Day 2

New Orleans

I wake up, my body full of ecstasy. Harry kissed me. My lips still lingers with the taste of him, my eyes unable to forget the smile on his face. And now we're back in my room after doing who-knows-what and it's morning. I reach over excited to finally touch him again. Except he's gone. Or rather he's not there.

"Harry?" I call, hoping for a response. None comes.

I immediately tumble out of the bed and make my way to the bathroom. It's empty.

I hurry over to the sink and start splashing water in my face. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this, Harry wouldn't leave me. In fact, he has probably just gone back to his room to take a shower. Yeah, people do that after sex, right? But then, why am I still wearing pants?

When I come back into my room the TV flickers on. It's been doing it for days now, even though I told the management to come to fix it. Maybe Harry knows a thing or two about electronics.

"And we interrupt with a short warning," The meteorologist announces; I freeze. "A storm is coming our way. And according to our recent calculations-"

I don't let him finish. Instead I press the button and hurry over to my bedstand. This has to be a mistake, the storm should be over by now. I quickly pick up my phone. Maybe Harry has left a message for me or his phone number or... something.

But I never get that far. Instead my eyes stay fixed on the lock screen.

January 31, 2013.

No, that can't be true. That was yesterday when Harry kissed me. When I kissed him.

My feet start moving around furiously. There has to be a some way to prove it's not my parents wedding day again. After all technology does have flaws. But if yesterday was today, that would mean that Harry would be in...

The thought strikes me and I instantly storm out of the room. Fast.

My heart pounds heavily in my chest as I sprint towards the laundry room. If I'm lucky they're not gone yet. And as predicted, voices are streaming out into the hallway through the half-open door.

"Oh, come on, Boo Bear," Harry, unmistakably, says. "Let me go first."

I carefully push the door open, making my way to corner of the entryway. I peek out and see that Louis and Harry are both standing in front of the laundry cart, Harry has a towel in his hand.

"But you went first yesterday," Louis complains, about to jump in. "Besides if you hadn't been screeching in the shower this morning, I would still be fast asleep."

"In others words," Harry spanks Louis with his towel.

"Oh, it's on," Louis quickly grabs a towel just in time to avoid another one of Harry's blows. I feel a twinge of jealousy inside me. Maybe yesterday was nothing more than a dream.

I'm about to crawl back out into the hallway when a huge pile of towels fall down next to me with a loud thump. Harry and Louis look up.

"Who's there?" Harry yells. "Reveal yourself. Or I will spank you."

I take a deep breath, considering to make a run for it.

"I'll count to three," Harry continues. "One. Two. The-"

But before he can finish I step out, my eyes immediately meeting his.

"Wait, haven't I seen you before?" He asks. I'm about to answer, when Louis interrupts.

"Looks like we got ourselves a spy," Louis starts. "And you know what we do with spies?"

I stare bewildered at them. They lock eyes.

"THROW THEM IN THE CART!" They both scream simultaneously. I have no idea what happens next. All I remember is that one moment I'm next to the towels, the next I'm dangling in the air above the basket.

"Any last wishes?" Louis asks.

"Actually-" I start, just in time to feel my body getting plunged into a sea of towels. A second later someone joins me. Harry.

"Sorry 'bout this," He says. "Louis likes to joke around."

"It's all right," I manage to reply before Harry suddenly grabs my body, pulling me in close. I feel our bodies align, as he finds my ear, muttering something in a deep, husky voice.

"Enjoy the ride."

"Come on, honey," My dad says as he exits their room. "You can finish packing when we get back."

I hear my mom scramble with her shoes before joining my dad in the hallway. I lean back against the wall, waiting for their steps to fade. It doesn't take long. I slowly move forward, thankful that my parents gave me the extra key. Unfortunately, I also suspect why, which doesn't make this any easier.

My head slowly clears as I move forward. There's nothing, but the last couple of hours there's real. The hours which I spend with Harry and Louis, running up and down the hallways with a heavy iron cart. The hours where Harry seemed to like me again.

I take a deep breath, feeling the card swipe through. It beeps; I'm in.

My hand shakes as I open the door.

Inside the room looks completely normal. The sheets are still folded neatly on the beds, the towels are still laying in a tidy pile, but where there should have been clothes and shoes strewn across the floor are instead bags. Regular old gym bags my parents have easily hidden from sight by compressing them in their trolleys.

I feel the card burn in my hand as I walk over and place it on top of the red one. It's my mom's. Usually she would never use it. Yet here it is, degraded to a hobo bag. A bag full of things you run away with.

I walk over to the window. The rain's still drumming against it. And as I turn, letting my back slide down it, tears start to burn their way through the corners of my eyes.

"Are you all right?" Someone asks. He's wearing white sneakers.

"No," I answer, snuffling.

"So," He sits down next to me. "What's wrong?"

"It's complicated," I snuffle again.

"Is it?" His finger touches my cheek. "Or do you just think it is?"

The moment he turns my face, I let myself fall into his arms. Harry's arms. I snuffle and cry, letting tear after tear fall into his curly, brown hair. Suddenly an angelic sound hits my ears, he's humming.

I don't know how long we sit there. All I know is that Harry's voice never stops. It just keeps going, no stutter, no falter. He doesn't even pry.

"Better?" He asks, when I finally lean away. "Cause if not, you know what they say, all you need is a little love."

A small giggle escapes my lips.

"Hey, what do you say to taking the day off and going to New Orleans?" Harry asks, returning my smile.

"But what about the wedding?" I say, guilt filling my stomach.

"Well, you're clearly not all jolly with your parents," He starts. "Besides the guys can cover for me. We have a gig in New Orleans tonight anyway."

I bite my lip, way too sure of what to say.

"All right," I finally give in. "Let's go."

The sun's shinning once we exit the ice cream parlor. Harry and I went in about 30 minutes ago for a snack since none of us (particularly Harry with his white T-shirt) wanted to get wet after the one-hour drive to the city.

"So," Harry says, as we start walking down the waterfront. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

I don't reply immediately. My gut tells me I can trust Harry, but what if this day is just a dream too? Then it won't even matter.

"It's complicated," I start.

"You already said that," Harry replies. I hesitate, wondering how much I should tell. He notices and scowls. I laugh.

"All right, you really wanna know?"

"Yes, tell me, tell me, tell me," Harry starts jumping up and down, like a kid waiting for candy. I take a deep breath.

"It all started eight months ago when my parents got divorced," I start, but before I can continue Harry holds up his hand.

"Wait a sec'," He says. "So you're saying that your parents only were separated for eight months?"

"More like five," I answer and continue. "See three months ago, they got back together, started acting weird, being irresponsible-"

"Having loud sex," Harry adds, winking.

"Gross," I punch his shoulder. "Stop that."

"What?" Harry exclaims, his face covered in mischief. "I like older women."

"What women?" I ask, defensively. But Harry doesn't reply, instead he just keeps walking.

As we walk further down the waterfront the clouds start gathering again. The winds become a tad stronger, but apparently it doesn't interrupt any of the Southerners from their daily business. In fact, they seem perfectly at home.

I get a huge knot in my stomach as we pass a small pavilion. It reminds me of the Southern wedding my parents always wanted. On the steps of it, sits an Afro-American guy, strumming on his guitar. He's surrounded by people, all smiling happily. Harry suddenly notices I'm uncomfortable and stops.

"Hey," He says. "I got an idea."

Harry grabs my hand and drags me over to the pavilion. The guy has just finished.

"Hey bro," He greets. "Could I borrow your guitar? Promise I won't steal it."

"Sure, man," The guy says, handing it to Harry. "Rock on."

Harry thanks him before whispering in my ear, "At least not while your looking."

I smile and watch as Harry drops down onto the steps, ready to play.

"Do you play guitar?" He sounds nervous.

"A bit."

"Then please don't make fun of me," He says before strumming the first chord.

At first I don't recognize what he's playing. Maybe it's his rusty skills, but then it hits me.

"Isn't she lovely," He sings. "Isn't she wonderful."

He looks at me.

"Isn't she precious, less than one minute old. I never thought through love we be,"

People starts surrounding us, I smile.

"Making one as lovely as she. Isn't she lovely made from love."

His voice ebbs out, the strumming continues. When he returns, his eyes are locked with mine.

"Isn't she pretty, truly the Angels best."

"Oh, boy, I'm so happy," Harry exclaims. People laugh.

"I can't believe what God has done, through us he's given life to one."

He stands up.

"But isn't she lovely made from love. Isn't she lovely, life and love are the same."

He walks towards me.

"Life with Benji, a butt full of pain. Blondie, it could not have been done,"

I shake my head.

"Without me having some fun,"

He stops in front of me, grinning.

"But you're so very lovely, made…"

The guitar playing stops.

"From love."

The last notes rings across the park. People applaud him. When they're done he turns toward me.

"What do you think?" He looks at me, his face still covered in a cheeky expression.

"Since when did I become the woman in this relationship?" I cross my arms.

"Since you decided to be the jealous one with the hole."

"You going in the water for that," I say. But before I'm able to grab him, Harry hands back the guitar and make a run for it. I follow him.

"So this is where the two love birds are hiding," Zayn says, slipping into the booth across from us. He's making a smoochy face.

"Oh, come on, guys," Harry says as Louis and two other guys, one with a buzz-cut and one blonde, join in. "I seriously thought we were all grown-ups here."

"Says the guy who digs my butt," Louis comments.

"We all dig your butt, Louis," The guy with the buzz-cut slaps it. "Hi, I'm Liam."

"Benjamin," I shake his hand.

"Do you by any chance know the recipe to the wedding cake?" The blonde asks.

"No, why should I?"

"You are the son of the bride and groom, right?" He stares anticipating at me.

"How did you-" I start, to astonished to finish.

"Niall always memorizes the names of the guest in case someone's sick or leaving or-"

"There's a delicious emergency," Niall ends, already sobbing over the menu.

"Wait, you're Nadja's brother?" Zayn turns his attention back to me. "Do you, by any chance, know what happened to your par-"

"Anyway," Harry interrupts, and I send him a grateful smile. "Did you bring it?"

"Right here," Louis throws a bag to Harry, who catches it one handed. "But hurry we're on in five."

"But that's barely time to eat dessert," Niall complains as the other guys get up and leave to go backstage. All except Harry, who stops right behind me.

"And just so you know," He whispers into my ear. "I'm gonna be all naked."

I roll my eyes as he strolls off. Harry and I have already spent so much time together that I'm used to his perverted way of thinking. Unfortunately, my pants doesn't seem to agree. They tighten the minute he's gone.

I do a sharp inhale, clearing my thoughts, before focusing on the stage at the other end of the room. It's nothing special, but Harry told me that him and the guys met each other at this club a few years back. They had all been here in hope of catching some British producer's attention and ended forming a band.

"Excuse me, can I sit here?" Someone suddenly asks, and I look up. It's a middle aged man with shaggy, dark hair and a stern expression. He's wearing sunglasses.

"Sure," I say, smiling.

The man thanks me and sits down. I glance at the clock on the wall again, wondering how long it is till the boys goes on. It can't be more than two minutes. Then my eyes somehow finds their way to man sitting across from me and I end up studying him.

"Is something wrong?" He asks, making me jump in my seat.

"Haven't I seen you before?" The man opens his mouth about to answer, when music suddenly beams through the speakers. A deep, loud voice comes on.

"Are you ready to rock?" I recognize the voice immediately, peoples start cheering. "Then give a warm welcome to the hot, the sexy, the One Direction."

In that moment all the boys come running out on stage. I notice that Harry has exchanged his white t-shirt and cargo pants for a white grey-striped shirt, some tight jeans, and hightop sneakers. He looks hot.

"Are you ready?" Zayn yells, holding his microphone towards the audience. They scream.

The moment the boys start singing I recognize the song. It's last years summer anthem and soon everyone in the audience sings along. Even me.

As the set goes on the crowd only gets wilder. The girls basically start throwing their underwear at them. I can't help but laugh as I watch Niall pick a pair up, jokingly placing it on Zayn's head. Maybe these guys are childish, but they're passionate. Whoever that producer is, he's either a jerk or missing out.

"All right, guys," Liam says as their eighth song ebbs out. "We gonna turn it down a little. Nialler are you ready?"

He looks back at Niall who just found a guitar, strapping it securely around his shoulders.

"I'm ready," He proclaims.

"Okay, guys," Zayn says. "We're gonna play an oldie now. It's our trademark. This is Torn."

The crowd goes silent as Niall starts picking the melody. Their voices soon join in harmony and Liam steps out, ready to go solo.

"Thought I saw a girl brought to life. She was warm, she came around and she was dignified. She showed me what it was to cry."

Liam jumps off stage and moves toward on of the girls. He places her hand on his heart.

"Well, you couldn't be that girl I adored. You don't seem to know, seem to care, what your heart is for. I don't know her anymore."

Liam fades from the spotlight and Harry continues.

"There's nothing where she used to lie. Our conversation has run dry. That's what's going on."

The others jump after Liam into the audience, all singing.

"Nothing's fine I'm torn. I'm all out of faith. This is how it feels."

Each guy has a girl now.

"I'm cold and I'm ashamed, lying naked on the floor."

Harry finds my eyes and winks. I smile.

"Illusion never change into something real. I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn. You're a little late, I'm already torn."

The guys start moving back onto the stage, no instruments playing. They repeat the chorus again and when it fades, the entire crowd stands up to applaud them. All except one.

"Why are you not clapping?" I ask the man, sitting across from me.

"Because they're good," He explains. "But without an original they're doomed."

I stare at him about to protest, when Harry's voice suddenly beams through the speakers.

"All right, guys, we're glad you liked it," The crowd cheers again. "But before we end the show we have a special guest with us tonight. Benji, get up here."

"No way."

But before I'm able to escape the crowd has grabbed me, dragging me onto the stage. I glare bitterly at Harry as I approach.

"I'm not that good a singer," I mumble.

"That's ridiculous," Harry answers. "I heard you hum at the pavilion."

"That was different." But instead of listening, Harry turns towards the audience.

"Who want to hear my pal, Benjamin, sing?" He yells. The crowd cheers, and before I'm able to protest further a microphone is placed in my hand. Only problem, I've got no idea of what to sing. Not unless...

"Niall," I yell, he hurries towards me. "Do you know Big Girls Don't Cry?"

"Yeah," He quickly places the guitar on his lap. "Ready?"

"Can I get a chair?" Someone immediately places one beneath me. "Now, I'm ready."

Niall starts picking and the song begins.

The door to Harry's apartment opens the second my butt touches the handle. We tumble inside both soaking wet from the rain, but he doesn't let go. Instead he presses me hard up against the wall, our lips never breaking. I feel his lips press hard against mine, his tongue desperately trying to breach the barrier.

"Not yet," I tease.

"Why not?" He complains in between breaths.

"First of all, we're wet," I start, quickly continuing before he can make any inappropriate jokes. "Besides the night's still young."

"So?" Harry replies. "You just got a business card from-"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"Well, big deal or not," Harry lingers a little. "You still deserve a big reward."

I try to object, but my legs are too weak and my pants too tight. I want Harry. I really do.

"All right," I whisper, through ragged breaths. "Let's do it."

Harry instantly grabs me around the waist and presses me back up against the wall. I can feel his bulge growing on my leg, making me hornier than ever. He starts kissing me roughly, and before I'm able to notice I'm thrown onto a madras shirtless.

He gazes at me for a moment.

"You're beautiful," He says, before leaning in to gently kiss me on the lips. My left hand quickly finds his hair, holding him tight, while the other searches for the hem of his shirt. Soon, it falls down beside us.

Blood starts rushing through me as our half-naked bodies meet. I moan.

"Man, you're dirty," Harry states in a sexy, husky tone

"I never said I wasn't," I force his lips back against mine.

We lay for a few minutes, kissing intensely. I let my hands comb through his hair as he moves down, letting out a moan every time he reaches a soft spot. Soon his hands are all over my legs and give in, folding my legs around his back.

Both our bulges rub together, a nerve wrecking explosion fills us.

But before any of us can react, Harry's elbow accidentally hits the remote. The TV turns on.

"We interrupt shortly with the sad news that the storm has already claimed its first victims," An aerial shot flashes across the screen. "On Route 10, an old oak suddenly collapsed on top of a black truck. The names of the victims are still unknown-"

I stop listening. The names are not unknown to me. That is my parents' car.