Wrapping a towel under my arms, I walk out to the bedroom and find Harry resting on the bed. His feet are kicked up with his back against the wall. Wearing old brown boots, dark jeans and a blue sweater, eyes occupied on the phone until he sees me. Falling to his feet, he grabs the coffee cup off the night stand and walks timidly towards me.


"Forgive me?" he pouts.


I've cooled down by now, but I intend on getting him back. I get ready, slipping into my black skinny jeans with my favorite black top and mustard cardigan. I wish I had brought sneakers since I've worn in my black flats so much, they might as well be slippers. I return to my classic ponytail and glasses, as I mentally prepare to return back to my life tomorrow.


"Okay, I'm ready," I say, swinging my purse strap over my head so it falls across my torso.


Not one minute later I hear a knock at the door.


"Right on time!"


Who's on time? Wait, who's coming with us? I wasn't aware of a third party. Harry slips on an olive beanie before answering the door and its a big man dressed in black attire, how fitting. I'm guessing he's one of his buddy guards. I can barely understand the mumbling going on between them but we are making our way down the stairs. Me and my cold coffee.


"Ugh, I forgot my phone. Go ahead, I'll be right down," Harry instructs as he jogs back up.


Following the quiet man to the dark SUV, I notice its perfect London weather, cloudy and cool. I give him a friendly smile and thank him for opening the door for me. It's strange to be chaperoned like this, but I know better now. We wait for a few minutes in the awkwardest silence, then I see Harry jog on over. He pops in with a white box, like the one from the bakery, and pats his friend's shoulder to go.


After he closes the door, I realize that he's brought a satchel with him too. Now I really want to know where we are going.


"Oh, I see you brought your purse as well," I take my first swing and Harry frowns. "Is there a specific word for that here? Man purse, satchel, tote?"


"Yeah . . . a bag," he shakes his head and flares his nostrils.


"Really? There's no fancy British word?"


"A bag."


"So where are we headed to?" I quickly change the subject.


"Shhh, you can't ask any more questions," Harry nods but opens the pastry box to distract me.


My eyes water at the sight of an apple turnover and other delicacies my eyes have never feasted on before.


"What are those?"


"This is a Maple Pecan Plait and that's a Vanilla Creme Crown."


"I-I can't choose," I respond in mild frustration.


"You don't have to. Here."


Harry feeds me the vanilla flavored one and I swear my mouth waters even more after the first bite. I'm not shy about moaning how wonderful it tastes, making him light up as he partakes. We are tackling all the treats and have come down to the last one. The car takes a sharp turn but that doesn't stop me from grabbing his wrist to steal some more before its gone.


"Heyyy, remember to share," Harry lifts his arm to gently push me off and shove the last piece in his mouth.


"No one told you to get just ONE of each," I reply, pinching his side.


"Okay Miss Piggy, control yourself. Look, you're all full of crumbs."


Normally this is where I'd panic and wipe my lap frantically but for some reason I laugh harder. In my struggle to snatch the treat from Harry's hand, my black clothes are covered with mini golden flakes. I feel two dimples staring at me and a sexy grin that completes the moment. I lean over in my seat to shake and pull at my clothes, when I notice what's ahead.


"Is that an airport, Harry?"


"I don't know. Is it?"


I should've known he was playing dumb on purpose, his eyes are studying me while his fingers fiddle with those full lips. Once the car is parked, the three of us walk inside a small building and I see Harry shake hands with an older gentleman. There are few planes outside in the distance but I can't find any other buildings aside from this office one.


My observations are then interrupted by a strong hand knitting in mine.


"This way," Harry says softly with sparkling eyes.


"Where are we going?" My voice comes out in faint high pitch, unable to hide my excitement.


"You'll see. Be patient, love."


I think the fact that Harry and I are going on a plane eases my transition for tomorrow. Perhaps now I can envision him sitting next to me when I take off back to America, making it less miserable. We are approaching a small plane. A really small plane. Classic pictures of Jackie O coming out of a private jet come to mind. How crazy is this!


"Is this your personal jet?"


"A jet, yes, but not mine. . . Normally I prefer your standard, low key, kind of date but I wanted to do something special on your last day."


"You didn't have to, Harry. I would have been happy just staying at your place."


We climb into the modern aircraft and I literally count four seats. Harry's guard, friend, I don't know his name yet, sits in the copilot's chair and Harry slides next to me in the back. The pilot is talking through his head piece and I'm trying to catch the name of our destination while the main door closes.


"I hope I made the right choice," Harry mumbles.


"Right choice about what, the pilot? The plane?"


"No," he laughs, "where we're going."


"Yeah about that . . . WHERE are we going?"


He buckles his seat belt and exhales, "Okay, if you had a choice, would you pick Paris or Liverpool?"


My stomach swirls but I can't tell if its from the question or my reaction from us taking off. It's unnerving how I hear the wind pass under my seat. Regardless, I read the nervous tone in Harry's voice and it makes me second guess myself. I know any girl would scream Paris in a heartbeat, but Liverpool is my Paris. There is only one reason, actually four, that would make my decision so obvious.


"Are we going to Liverpool?" I gasp and press my hands over my mouth.


Harry's expression is worth a million bucks. For a moment there, his confidence hit a pause button as he waited for my answer. I guess I made the right choice.


"That is why I'm in love with you!" He pulls me in a bear hug and I want to die from this confirmation.


"The Beatles! That's why, right? I mean, that's why we are going to Liverpool?" I ramble.


"Of course! I wanted to see your reaction once we landed but . . . I suck at surprises."


Harry's boyish smile warms my chest, catching his cheek in the palm of my hand as he attempts to lower his gaze. I take a quick glance over to make sure we aren't being spied on, and steal a kiss. I keep it light for I can never trust myself whenever I'm this close to him. Not to mention there's other people in this mobile room, less than six feet away.


I bashfully pull away and sneak a peek towards the cockpit, but when I look back at Harry, he nods and places his hand behind my neck. To hell with the modesty!
He kisses into my smile and I take advantage of those plump lips. I don't know if we relieved the the tension or made it worse, still, we remain close after we tear our mouths apart.


Harry is twirling my ponytail in his fingers while I gush about how meeting Paul McCartney was the best moment of my life, thanks to him. I know I must sound like a fool, breaking my own rule, but he doesn't seem to mind. He just listens and smiles.


I've exhausted my thoughts, enjoying the peaceful silence while Harry sedates me with his brushing fingers. His free hand searches in his bag and pulls out a pair of headphones, then his cellphone from his back pocket. I'm tucked at his side with my head resting against his neck, when he carefully places one of the earbuds in my ear.


"What's this?" I whisper.


"Passion Pit and a few others"


Harry's voice sounds nice and deep, sending a tiny whirlwind down my stomach. And there we stay for the rest of the flight, cuddling and sharing earphones while Harry plays his favorite songs. What a perfect start to our expedition.

---

A grey car awaits us and we make the switch. Harry is showing the driver something on his phone and I smile once I spot the John Lennon Airport sign. I quickly take a picture with my phone and wait patiently for the next worthy scene. The anticipation is killing me. It's just as cloudy here as it is in London, all of England grieves for my departure. Harry squeezes my hand as I gaze out my window, desperate to find things that distinguish Liverpool from London. Its hard to tell the difference just yet but I'm equally enchanted.


Now I really look like a fool, a smiling joker, because there's nothing that could have prepared me for this first stop. I read the gold plated letters on the faded brick building, The Beatles Story Exhibition, just like the pictures I have on my laptop. I didn't even think to make a trip like this, I was so caught up on the concert and staying within the city.


My eyes are misty and even my nose is beginning to run as I casually pat it with my yellow sleeve. Harry's silhouette is right beside me when I see a familiar object. Turning to find him with his camera, I walk in front of the sign and point to it for a better picture. I wave for him to join me and he hands the camera to his buddy guard. We take a few silly and sweet ones before finally making it through the entrance down a few steps.


Leaving all seriousness at the door, Harry and I walk in with a little dance in our step while Mrs. Robinson greets our ears in the lobby. I love how Harry can be goofy with a straight face, making me smile even harder. He gets our tickets and we start to tour down the magnificent hallway.


There are blown up black and white photographs taking up the vast walls. Their faces are just my height, so I pose as if Paul McCartney were about the eat my head. Harry gets an idea and shows me how to use a video app on his phone. He explains what he's going to do but I can't envision it quite well so I just follow orders.


A woman's voice begins to narrate the Beatles history through the speakers. I'm thinking hard for a second.


"It says here that its Julia Lennon's voice," Harry's guard reads off the pamphlet and delivers a flat smile.


"That's his sister!? Wow!" I'm awestruck.


We continue to see all these life sized artifacts and setups, and I feel like I've traveled back in time to their glory days. There's even a small section on Elvis and his impact on the band. I see hearts in Harry's eyes as he poses with his head over the white costume suit sprayed with diamonds.


My heart won't sit still, after hearing all those classic songs and stunning images of my idols, I will never be the same. We spend a good hour or so, between the pictures and our slow stroll through the building, nothing tops this. When we step outside, Harry studies his phone before guiding us up the street.

It takes us over ten minutes but I'm soaking up the setting like any true fan would. To think all the members lived here and walked these sidewalks.


I see a banner hanging in the middle of the street that reads Welcome to Mathew Street, Birthplace of the Beatles. I go picture crazy. Harry's surprise will be the death of me. . . a blissful death. We see a statue of John Lennon leaning on a wall, The Cavern Club where they played numerous shows, and The Grapes pub where they hung out after.


We stop at The Beatles shop for what feels like another hour, its simply too difficult to narrow down the items that I want. I end up buying several shirts for me and my parents while Harry has his own load of souvenirs. We still have an hour left before The Grapes pub opens at three o'clock, so we turn on to John Street and walk towards the Hard Days Night Hotel to continue sight seeing.

---

We are flying back and poor Harry is passed out with his head on my lap. He barely fits with his long body but he manages to fold himself like a lean rag doll. I'm looking through the pictures in his camera and reminiscing of our final hours in Liverpool. We hung out at The Grapes pub for a while, making a few friends. Including Preston, the security guard I befriended when I insisted that he sit at our table, finally catching his name.


I underestimated the silence. Hanging out with an older crowd made the one outside seem inconceivably young. Harry encountered a small group, around twenty girls decked out in an array of colors and One Direction clothing. Preston suggested that we go back inside to wait for the car once Harry was done. By the time it came, the crowd had grown but the situation was still under control.


Harry waved goodbye to everyone while I climbed in first. Then we drove by Penny Lane Street and down where the Strawberry Field children's home used to be. I was beyond impressed by Harry's knowledge of the band but even more so on his thoughtfulness in putting this day together for me.


Playing with Harry's hair, about ready to land, I think of all the memories I had made in this past week. And all the souvenirs I'll take back with me minus the one that's holding on to my lap. I gently shake his stiff body to life and he springs up. His beanie falls onto the seat as he rubs his eyes.


"We're here already?" His voice is groggily and raspy.


"You fell asleep the minute we sat down, for about an hour."


Harry squints and looks at me in disbelief. Shaking his head, his hair falls in front of his face but he ruffles it to the side. He thanks both the pilot and the gentleman from before, then we are on our final ride back to his house.


"Are you happy? Did you have a good time?"


"I'm beyond happy. My parents are never going to believe this."


"That reminds me, my sister says hi. She's hoping to meet you on your next visit."


"Gemma? Really? . . . Oh my, I'm speechless. . .No wait, tell her I said hello and I'm looking forward to it."


"So here's a question, do you think your parents would like me?" Harry asks holding my hand.


"They will LOVE you!"


"Yeah?" he nods and a curve forms on his lips.


"I wish you could meet them."


"Have you spoken with them again?"


"It seems we keep playing text tag, but I do need to text them the flight details."


"I'm dreading nine o'clock."


"I know its thirteen hours away-"


Harry crashes his mouth on mine in a spontaneous kiss, inhaling me as he pulls away. His hand is against my stomach with his face floating by my cheek and hairline. I'm going to miss all of this. The restless emotions, unraveling of clothes and unsettling body temperatures. But most of all just seeing him, enjoying every time he seeks for my affection.

There's the staircase, most likely the last time I'll be going up them for a while. There's the homey scent, furniture mixed with Harry's musk, and then his cute kitchen where we made the turkey tacos. Dragging my feet to his bedroom, I stare at my open suitcase, no motivation to be found.


I slip off my glasses and cardigan, just about to kneel before this project when Harry grabs my waist and pulls me away.


"Not tonight. I'll help you in the morning, I promise. . .but," Harry looks in my sorted pile of intimates and grabs my black bra. "I will be keeping this one. Annnd . . . where are the black laced knickers?"


"That's my favorite pair!"


"Give it," Harry means business, so after I retrieve them from my folded stash I jump to my feet on my hunt.


"Fine. Then I want . . ." I stomp off to the laundry pile and find his rocker shirt I wore a few days ago. "I'm keeping this one."


I toss it with my clothes and all Harry does is smile at me lovingly. He scoops me in his arms and lays me in the middle of his bed, crashing beside me. His arm vines around my waist and we face each other with a melancholic daze.


"I like your hair like that," I say while combing an untamable curl away from his beautiful green eyes. "I'm going to miss you."


"Nuh-uh. Baby, don't cry."


Harry takes my hand and holds it against his mouth, laying repeated kisses. I allow the tears as they run down my cheeks, my body never does what I say anyway. We snuggle closer but I can't help feel like I'm the only one holding this anchor against my chest, sinking into the bed by myself. I'm thinking maybe Harry isn't good at saying goodbyes or maybe he's trying to be strong for the both of us.


"I should shower," I use as a means to escape, I'm a hot mess right now.


"No, lets just lay here till we fall asleep. I can feel your heart racing, just relax here with me."


Harry's words are so smooth and calm. I wish he were a little less composed, but I guess that would make things even harder wouldn't it. He wraps his arms around me and strums my back, I love it when he does that. His touch is always so gentle and soothing, knowing the precise moments when to be rough and when to be subtle.


"Don't be sad, Jude. We will talk everyday. . . I won't let you miss me. You have my word." I shake my head on his chest, though I can already feel the damp spots I'm leaving on his sweater. "Kiss me."


I lift my head to take a good look at him, to engrave his image, and I kiss him like its the first and last time.

Notes

Agh the time is drawing near. I can't watch. . .

Amigas, I'm blessed every time I read your wonderful comments and delighted to hear how much you like the story. I hope to keep writing many more chapters as you are all feathers in my wings of inspiration. (cheesy huh?)

Much love and hugs! Muah!