and back again.

Ella drummed her fingers against the steering wheel of her car as it idled at a red light. Ella had stopped at that red light so many times before on her way home from work, but tonight it was different. Tonight that red light felt like a gateway separating life from fantasy. If she were thinking rationally she knew she would make a left turn at the light, head for the highway, and be home in thirty minutes. She would hop into bed, snuggle into Eric's back, and chalk tonight up to an amazing story that she would never be able to tell anyone. She had a good life - a life she loved - and she could be content just knowing that once upon a time she gave Harry Styles her phone number.
But Ella had a habit of overthinking things - what if this was some sort of sign? Sure, she was happy, but she couldn't lie to herself and say that she hadn't been longing some adventure in her life. She and Eric had been together for six years and had done everything "right" - school, good jobs, house - it wouldn't be long before they started talking children and Ella would lose what freedom she had left.
As the light switched from red to green, Ella's hand hovered over her signal switch. Left or straight, Ella, make a choice, she coached herself silently. Ella inhaled deeply, gripped both hands over the steering wheel, and drove straight through the light.
"Hey," Eric answered his cell when Ella called him a moment later, "on your way?"
"Actually, no. Nicole is pretty wired from the show and she's asked me to spend the night - I think she wants to chat for a bit. I'm pretty exhausted so it works for me, too." Ella rambled effortlessly.
"Oh, okay. Do you have clothes for tomorrow?"
"It's jean day tomorrow, anyway, so I'll just borrow a shirt from Nicole."
"Okay. Have a good night. I'll talk to you in the morning." Eric mumbled sleepily, "Love you."
"Love you, too, babe."
Eric disconnected the call as Ella made her way closer and closer to the Prince George hotel. She was shocked at how easily the lies had spewed out of her mouth. She had absolutely no idea where she was actually going to spend the night but presumed she would have to fold down her back seats to create a makeshift bed. She was eternally glad that it was May so that she wouldn't freeze without blankets.

***

Ella felt the blood rushing through her veins as she parked her car along the curb a block before the Prince George and made her way up the sidewalk. A couple dozen squealing fans stood outside the hotel, eager to catch a glimpse of any of the boys, as Ella reached the front door and stepped inside.
"Ma'am, can I help you?" a well-suited concierge asked as she stepped onto the polished marble floor of the hotel foyer.
"Um, I'm meeting someone." Ella stumbled as she reached for her iPhone. It's not like the hotel was about to let a young girl upstairs just because she said she was meeting Harry Styles - half the girls outside had probably already tried that. Ella smiled at the sight of an incoming text on her phone.

INCOMING TEXT MESSAGE: UNKNOWN NUMBER
Tell the desk you are Regina Phelange, local pimp.

"I'm, um... I'm Regina. Phelange."
The concierge smiled knowingly, "And your occupation, miss?"
Ella felt her cheeks grow warm, "Local pimp."
The concierge nodded, "Right this way, Miss Phelange. My name is Stefan Marks; I'm on duty all night if you or your company should need anything. I can be reached by dialling 99 on any of the hotel phones."
Stefan led Ella to the elevator, swiped his employee card, and selected the tenth floor of the hotel.
"Mr. Hannigan is in room four." He informed her as the elevator slowed to a stop.
"Mr. Who? Oh, um, yes - Mr. Hannigan. Who is expecting me." It only made sense that someone as over-stalked as Harry Styles would check into hotels with an alias.
Ella stepped out of the elevator and waited for it to disappear again before approaching room four. She paused in front of the door and let a tidal wave of emotions crash against her - anticipation and anxiety at what lay beyond door number four, guilt for standing in front of another boy's hotel room while her boyfriend was at home in bed, and sheer terror at the thought of being alone with Harry Styles. Harry. Fucking. Styles.
"I can see you, you know." Ella heard an increasingly familiar accent behind the door. Suddenly and inexplicably, confidence pushed her mixed emotions out of the picture, and Ella smiled,
"Open the door, then, jackass."
The door swung open and there stood Harry, in the same torn jeans now paired with a baggy grey sweatshirt, his hair held back from his face with an elastic band. He smiled a wide, toothy smile, "Hi."
"Hi."
"I'm realizing that it's a bit creepy to invite you into my hotel room considering we've only met once. You could be a serial murderer for all I know!" Harry spoke slowly, "I could use a tea, though. Would you like to go get tea?"
Ella nodded, "I know the perfect place."

***

Ella folded her hands in her lap awkwardly, ordered a peppermint cocoa to match Harry's peppermint tea, and squirmed to find comfort in the aged leather booth at the Inland Coffee House. She watched as Harry flicked his fingers across the screen of his iPhone before sliding it back into his pocket and turning his attention toward her,
"That was Niall checking up on me. He thought you might be a serial murderer, too."
"You people don't think very highly of me - pimp, serial murderer. I must be putting out negative vibes."
Harry laughed as an elderly barista placed their drinks in front of them, "Must be!" He joked, "So do you hang out here often?"
"Not anymore. I did when I was in school; my university is just two blocks up."
"Did you study finance?"
"History."
"History... of finance?" A cheeky grin spread across Harry's face.
"Cultural history, actually," Ella laughed. She rolled her eyes. She was used to this conversation. "It's a long story, but turns out there aren't many career opportunities in cultural history. Who knew?"
"Did you like it? Studying history?"
Ella felt Harry's eyes on her as she stirred her cocoa, "I loved it."
"Then who cares about career opportunities? You have to do what you love."
Ella smiled at her mug, took a gentle sip of the thick, peppermint liquid, and returned Harry's stare.
"Do you travel much? My sister has a friend who studied history - she loves to travel and see the things she's studied."
Ella shrugged, "I don't get far."
"If you could go one place right now, where would it be? Quick!"
"Ireland." Ella blurted, surprising even herself.
"Niall will be pleased." Harry laughed.
"Where would you go?" Ella asked.
Harry took a slow sip of his tea and smiled at her, "Ireland."

***

"Okay, twenty-one questions." Harry declared two hours later, when the last of the awkwardness had disappeared and he felt like an old friend. They were still seated in the curved corner booth at the back of the Inland Coffee House, interested only in one another while the cafe around them hosted poetry night to hipsters and wannabe Bob Dylans. He was leaned forward across the table, his knees and elbows only centimetres away from Ella's own, with his long and slender fingers wrapped around his tea mug.
"Okay." Ella agreed, "Favorite city you've ever played in?"
"London and Tokyo. Favorite place you've ever visited?"
"Portsmouth, New Hampshire."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Ella blushed, "I can't explain why - I just love it there."
"That's reason enough." Harry smiled. His accent was just. So. Sexy.
"Thing you miss most about being home while you're on the road?"
Harry hesitated, biting his bottom lip, "My mum." He said finally, "And just being around people who don't care about Harry Styles - the people that know I'm normal."
"That must be hard."
"It's worth it, in the grand scheme of things, to get to do this for a living. My turn - tell me one thing nobody else knows about you."
"I've written this book," Ella began, "I must have started it four years ago but I keep going back and making changes. Anyway, I have this dream that one day it will be published, and I can just spend the rest of my life writing."
A smile slowly crept across Harry's face, "A writer. I can see that in you. I bet your book will be published."
Ella felt her cheeks growing warmer and her eyes dropped to the table, "You don't know that."
"No, but I have a good feeling. My turn again," Harry decided, "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Ella lifted her eyes quickly to meet Harry's. Had she really spent two and a half hours chatting with this boy and not once mentioned the boy at home in her bed? How was that even possible? When she talked with her coworkers, Eric was in almost every story she told. He was her best friend - one of her only friends - and the love of her life for over six years, how could she not have brought him up?
Ella rubbed her right hand up and down her left arm nervously and nodded, "Yes."

***

"So can I ask you another question?" Harry asked as they approached the rear service entrance of the Prince George hotel in Ella's car near one o'clock the next morning. Ella braced herself - she knew what was coming next.
"Sure."
"Why did it take you three hours to tell me you had a boyfriend?"
Ella frowned. There was no way to explain this that wouldn't make her look, or feel, awful. "I don't know," She admitted, "I really don't know."
"Don't get me wrong - I'm glad you waited."
"You are?" Ella pulled her car to the curb and turned off the ignition, then turned to face Harry, "Why?"
"I like to get to know someone without reservation." Harry said simply, "If I'd have known you had a boyfriend, I might have acted differently, or spoken differently, and that would have been a shame."
Ella smiled. It was strange how easy Harry made life seem; as if life were only about being happy and true to yourself, rather than those things taking back burner to making mortgage payments and getting to work on time.
"Where does he think you are now?"
"At Nicole's."
"Is that where you're going now?"
Ella bit her lip, "Ah, yeah."
"Why are you lying to me?" Harry asked incredulously, a wide smile painted across his face.
"I hadn't thought this part of the plan through yet!" Ella laughed, "I can't go to Nicole's - then I would have to explain where I've been. There is a pretty cheap hotel by my work, I suppose I'll go there."
"No, it's one in the morning, I'm not sending you across town to rent a seedy hotel room. Come upstairs with me."
"Oh, Harry, no. I shouldn't."
"There's an empty room beside me. You can stay there. We've rented the whole floor, anyway." Harry explained, "Come on."

***

Ella followed Harry to the tenth floor and he escorted her to room six, the door just past his. He folded his arms across his chest and smiled at her; smiled like there was only her. Ella couldn't remember the last time she'd felt someone's eyes on her like that - if she had ever. His wide, green eyes were mesmerizing.
"Tonight was great." Harry said, "I don't get to see cities that way very often. Thank you."
"I had fun, too." Ella pushed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, "And thank you for letting me stay here. I'm not so good at spontaneous planning."
"We'll work on on that."
After a moment of perfectly comfortable silence, Harry reached forward and wrapped his arms around Ella's neck, pulling her into a close hug. Ella felt electricity shoot up her spine; she'd spent the better part of the night trying so hard not to touch Harry for fear of this exact feeling. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him for a second before pulling away.
"Goodnight, Harry."
Ella stepped into her massive hotel room and collapsed on the bed, her mind racing with the night's events and her body pulsating with the thrill of Harry's touch. She had never felt that level of electricity in her body before - that was a feeling she knew she would never be able to forget. She wondered what it all meant, if it meant anything at all. Maybe this was Harry's thing - maybe he chose a girl in every city to play nice with. She couldn't blame him if he did; she could only imagine how lonely it must be on the road, and no one could begrudge him for longing for some company. Ella pressed her eyes closed although she knew there was no hope for sleep. Soon she would have to get up and showered, and find a store that sold work-appropriate tops before her nine o'clock conference call, but she knew there was no possible way of forcing herself to sleep.

INCOMING TEXT: UNKNOWN NUMBER
Did you know that Billy Madison is on Netflix?

Ella smiled. She had a feeling she would need to save this number.

REPLY: Excellent movie.

INCOMING TEXT: MR HANNIGAN
Come over and watch?

REPLY: Isn't it creepy to invite me into your hotel room given that we've only just met? I could be a serial murderer!

INCOMING TEXT: MR HANNIGAN

Notes

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