"Miss Hatter! Miss Hatter!"
Sophie ran up the steps, her key card already in hand as she pressed it against the sensor. Hurry, hurry, hurry—
Cameras flashed, people yelled, attention was being drawn, and now they knew where she lived. They knew her name, they knew her address, they probably knew the route she took from work, and she wouldn't be surprised if they hadn't already figured out where she worked. The door finally clicked open and she rushed in, closing herself off from the pandemonium on the street.
She could still hear them through the door over the rush of blood in her ears. Forcing in deep, slow breaths, Sophie tried to ground herself. Tried to calm her racing heart and drain the tension riddling her limbs. One foot in front of the other, she carefully made her way to the stairwell and climbed.
Four flights up and her heart was still racing.
She locked herself into her apartment, purse and keys onto the small table by the door, then crossed and immediately shut the blinds. They shouldn't have a good angle to see into the apartment, but she didn't want to take the chance. She'd already risked too many chances and made too many mistakes. How could she have ever believed herself capable of this?
Her coat was hung in the front closet and she retrieved her phone from the pocket. A flash of the screen showed three missed calls and two voicemails from her sisters and a single text from Howl.
Howl.
It was all his fault.
That wasn't fair. She hadn't walked into this unaware. It was next to impossible to have not heard Howl's name over the last five years. His movies had been huge, from the summer blockbuster to the highly esteemed, award winning film, and his photogenic face was plastered all over the city. Howl hit it big and ran with it and Sophie had been aware of his fame long before she stumbled into him behind the bakery her sister worked at.
Still, her emotions were unstable and not even the poetry of his text could settle her nerves. Shutting off her phone before she did something she'd regret, she tossed the thing onto the coffee table and made her way into the bathroom.
A shower would help. The spray of water would drown out the echoes of reporters that knew her name, the weight of curious stares as she ran the day's errands, and the sinking feeling in her heart that convinced her this wouldn't work out.
Howl thrived in his world. The fame, the fortune, the glamour, all of it. His larger-than-life personality fit well on the screen and charmed even the most jaded interviewer.
She didn't.
And she wouldn't.
So if she suffocated in his world and he withered in hers, how much longer could they drag this on before it ended?
…
An incessant banging came from the door when she got out of the shower. Steam followed out the open door and with her robe pulled tight around her, she tentatively approached. A peek through the peephole gave her no information. The person banging on the door was too close to really get a good look at them.
Latching the chain, she unlocked the doorknob and cracked the door open.
"Sophie."
Just the sound of his voice sent a pang through her heart.
"Howl."
"Sophie, let me in."
"Howl—"
"We need to talk," he interrupted, panic written all over his face. "I'm not leaving until we talk and I will resort to saying everything I need to say in the hallway where your neighbors can hear."
He just would, too.
"Howl—"
"Please," he added in a whisper, his forehead falling against the wood. "Please. Don't close the door on me."
Her hand stilled, her heart tugging at the genuine pain in his words.
"I didn't know. Markl saw it and told me. He found the source of the leaks. I never— Sophie, I never wanted this for you. Please," he begged as blood-shot blue eyes met hers through the small opening, "please let me in."
There was nothing left for her to do but nod.
…
The cup rattled against the counter, her vision filled with the desperation lining Howl's shoulders. She'd never seen him so anxious, so out of control, but she didn't say anything. As soon as she had opened the door, he burst in, closing the door and locking them in before enveloping her in his arms.
"Howl—"
"Just—" He pulled in a sharp breath, his heart thudding against her cheek and his cheek pressing into her hair. "I'm so sorry."
"Howl, it's not your fault."
"But it is," he argued. "It is. I should have known. I should have been more careful. I—"
"You shouldn't have to change your life to accommodate me."
He went still, his arms tightening briefly before he pulled back. Just enough to look at her, study her expression and cup her cheek, allow a fleeting glimpse of emotion flash across his face, then he released her. That emotion was more than she was prepared for and Sophie did what she had always done: ran and hid behind the veneer of being polite.
Making a pot of tea was a polite thing to do for a guest and even with Howl's huff, he let her. He took her empty words to heart and stepped out of his shoes, leaving them by the front door, then made himself comfortable on her small, ratty couch.
Just looking at him pierced her heart. There he was in beautiful clothes that seemed casual but fit too well and were just too clean to match the worn furniture she owned. And they really did fit him in all ways. Howl had always been larger than life and it seemed unfair to quell all that he was into her compact life.
Sophie brought the two cups with her and sat on the other end of the couch, drawing out a frown from him. He took his cup, stared down into the dark liquid, then set it on the table without a taste.
"You've made up your mind," he said, defeated.
She said nothing, simply looked down at the reflection in her cup.
"Sophie, please. I'll— We—" His hand swiped through his hair, sending the strands into disarray. "Please."
"Howl."
He sucked in a hiss, his eyes closing in pain.
"We live in different worlds. I don't fit in yours and you don't fit in mine—"
"So we'll make our own world."
She stopped, all at once wondering why she didn't think of that while believing it wouldn't — couldn't — work.
"Sophie." His desperate plea pulled her from her thoughts, the fear shining in his beautiful eyes tearing new wounds beneath her sternum. Still, she waited in silence as he stilled his shoulders, pulled in a breath, then met her gaze head on.
"I want to change my world."
Her lips parted and he held up a palm.
"Please let me say this." Howl waited for her nod. "I want you. I want you in my life and by my side and with me. I want what we've had, I want where we're going, I want to hear your voice in the morning and smell your hair at night. And above all of that, I want you happy and I want you happy with me.
"That?" He waved a hand toward her window, gesturing at the crowd that had been there an hour ago. "The posters and billboards and cameras and high profile life? Not worth living if you're not in it."
"Howl—"
"Give this a chance," he continued. "Give me a chance. Give me the opportunity to learn how to shut them out and how to balance my work and your privacy and how to make you comfortable. Let me build you a place in my life that will make you happy. That you can live in. That you will stay in."
Her throat burned and her breathing turned heavy and Howl's voice dropped to a beautiful, soft lilt that exposed the emotions he rarely showed.
"I can't lose you." His hand found hers and she let him lace their fingers together. "Not to this, not when there's a chance, not when I know we can make it work."
"What if we can't?" she asked, the unspoken fear finally bubbling to the surface.
"We will." He lifted their hands and kissed her knuckle. "If you have the strength to get up on the morning, then I'll have the strength to keep you safe. My security team is already working on this and my agent has attacked the press. It should buy us enough time to get you better protected and them off your trail."
"Howl, we can't live our entire lives inside."
"No, we can't, but we can live our lives free of that abuse. Celebrity couples do it every day, there's no reason to think we can't be one of them."
His thumb soothed over her skin, circling and circling as if he couldn't stop touching her. The memory of him doing the same the past weekend over her neck, her spine, her hip, sent her heart fluttering in her chest.
"How did you know?"
Pain welled up in his eyes, but Howl — the ever in-control, poised Howl — somehow kept it from falling. "I didn't. I jumped to the worst possible conclusion and couldn't let it happen without a fight."
"So if I had opened the door for you with arms wide open—"
"—I would have fallen into your arms with relief."
He had done that anyway.
"And," she added in a small voice, revealing the truth she was ashamed to admit, "if I had refused to answer the door?"
"Sophie," and she couldn't help but look at him when he said her name in that beautifully soft voice, "I would have slept on your doorstep."
He would have. She knew with certainty he would have. He would have done anything to salvage what she considered throwing away.
"That's a bit extreme, isn't it?" Sophie grasped for humor, hoping to alleviate the weight on her chest. "The papers would explode about the stalker Howl."
His lips twitched, but the pain didn't leave his eyes and the weight twisted.
"Howl…will you stay tonight?"
He moved, finally closed the distance between them and pulled her into his chest. "Forever," he said into the curve of her neck. "I will stay forever if you let me."
I like the idea of them having a slow romance. They meet in the alley and Howl is smitten immediately. He bumps into her again and again and finally gets her number. They have quiet dates over the course of a couple weeks, then he progresses them into dating exclusively.
This happens after their first weekend together. Up until this point, they were quiet and careful, but Sophie staying with Howl all weekend was too good of gossip to keep quiet. The doorman of Howl's apartment building sold the story and it made him a good amount of money. When they find the leak, his subsequent firing and blacklisting through the industry made him have to move.
It's a hard journey for them because Howl is set and Sophie is skittish, but they make it work and this is the foundation they build on.
I'm not happy with either characterization. It's been a while since I read the book and reading back over this, it's obvious. Both characters are more movie-based than I wanted, so I'm left completely disenchanted with what I wrote. Still, for some reason, I've decided not to delete it. Hope you can enjoy it for what it is.