Blue

The flight to Japan seemed to last about fourteen weeks. My valium/paxil/bourbon cocktail allowed me to sleep for what felt like possibly twenty-three minutes of a nearly seventeen hour flight but I was a jumpy, panicked, excited hot mess. I was going to be with Harry again. How could anyone expect me to sleep, knowing that once I got off the airplane, I’d be that much closer to being in his arms?

By the time the plane landed at Narita International Airport in Tokyo, I’d given up trying to be a sophisticated first class passenger and had been sprawled out in my seat with my head against the fuselage wall; half dozing, half listening to Beethoven. Even if I only saw Harry for ten minutes a day, it would be far better than the mess I’d left back in America: my mother was convinced I was ruining my life, my sisters thought I was a slut, and Vi was still so pissed she wasn’t speaking to me.

It didn’t bother me so much that they were mad; everyone’s entitled to their own, damn, opinion. But no one bothered to ask me how I felt about him. Nobody said, ‘Hey Laney, how does this guy make you feel’ or ‘you seem to be really happy, Laney. Is it because of this boy?’ They all seemed to agree he was using me for sex and I was using him for fame. Frankly, it hurt.

In order to make myself feel less like shit, I mentally just told myself, ‘so, it has come to this’ anytime someone acted pissy. My sisters unfriended me on Facebook. So, it has come to this. My mother texted me that no man was worth losing my self-respect. So, it has come to this. Vi blatantly ignored me and slammed the door whenever she entered/exited our apartment. So, it has come to this. Fine. I packed my bag, I drove myself to the airport, and I launched myself into the unknown. I wasn’t a whore. I was Harry’s Darling Clementine. I was the topic of a hilariously speculative article in In Touch magazine simply titled #loveforblue that pondered “just how serious is hunky twenty-one year old Harry Styles with the stylish blue haired mystery girl?”

So, it has come to this.

The second the plane touched down on the tarmac, I was wide awake. Never mind the fact this was Japan—exciting adventure and a whole new culture to explore!—I was here. Harry was also here. My brain casually reminded me how ridiculous I probably looked after being in an airplane for seventeen hours. I’d dressed for comfort and not glamor: gray Flyers cotton capris and a plain, fitted navy blue v-neck t-shirt. My hair pulled up into a messy bun and, despite the look of professional slacker, I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time primping for the flight. My look had to hold up for seventeen hours and result in Harry thinking “hot” and not “hobo.”

I flipped my phone off of airplane mode and fired off a text to him. Landed! I’m officially on the same continent as you.

He texted back promptly. I cannot wait to see you, baby girl!!!! Show went over so I’m still at the arena. Sean is in the arrival lobby for you. He says he’s trying to blend.

My heart sank. After seventeen hours of squirming, slouching, and shifting on an airplane, I wanted to melt into his arms and forget all the shit of the past two weeks. But, okay, that much closer to seeing him. I could cope. Or act like I was coping. I hope he’s holding a giant sign that says ‘Clementine Darling’ on it.

He’s probably storming around looking for an eggroll.

The plane seemed to taxi for miles, like we were literally driving from the tarmac into downtown Tokyo. I busied myself putting my backpack in some semblance of order: headphones in the small pocket, iPad in the medium pocket, and my leftover, overpriced cheese/nut/cracker/questionable hummus snack pack I bought, not so much because I was hungry, but because I was bored. I’d slept, what, maybe four hours in the past thirty? Excellent. Watch out, Tokyo, Lane-zilla is on the loose.

First Class seating did have its perks, so as soon as we were able to get off the plane, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and shuffled behind the abnormally tall man who’d sat beside me for the slight. I restrained a giggle. I was fairly sure that he didn’t like me. He’d watched ‘American Sniper” for the first two hours of the flight and, with nothing else to look at, I’d watched with him. He kept adjusting his iPad so I couldn’t see the screen as well. Whatever, dude, it’s not like I’d plugged my earbuds in to listen to the movie. I’d watched ‘American Sniper’ but I listened to Fiver Finger Death Punch. And a few One Direction songs—but I’d never admit that to Harry.

The only ‘foreign’ country I’d ever travelled to was Canada, and that was long before passports were required for crossing the border. Arriving in Japan was somewhat intimidating. Okay, I was lying to myself. It was insanely intimidating. The line of debarking passengers filed towards the “Quarantine” station, which Harry had previously explained to me. Sure, I’d made it to Japan. But I felt like there were still two tests to actually set foot into the country. Quarantine. Passport Control.

I’d filled out my quarantine form on the plane, as directed by a crazy-eyed female stewardess. It was pretty basic. Diarrhea? No. Vomiting in the past twenty-four hours? No. Fever? No. Still, I felt as if this was some kind of trick question. Are you sick, Delaney Lee? Really? You look wide-eyed and panicked. Is that sweat on your forehead? Maybe you should just sit down….yes, here, on this plane heading back to America.

The man at the desk barely looked at me when I handed him my form. He reviewed the questionnaire and said, “Any flu like symptoms in the past twenty-four hours? Sneezing, coughing, lethargy, congestion?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced diarrhea or vomiting within the past twenty-four hours?”

“No.”

“Have you recently traveled to Africa?”

“No.”

“Do you consent to a temperature verification check?”

“Uhhh….sure?”

He scribbled something on the form and then pointed what looked like some kind of weird tricorder/price checker at my forehead. He squeezed the trigger and then looked at the back. “You have a normal temperature.”

“Good to know, thank you.” It was always a good sign when someone used ‘normal’ to describe me. I like you, Mr. Quarantine counter agent!

He scribbled something on the bottom of the form and slid it back to me. “You may now proceed to Passport Control.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just smiled broadly and thanked him, following the corridor and, ahead, my tall non-friend/seatmate towards the immigration counter. It resembled a line of bank-teller booths in an old-timey 1940s movie and, beyond it, was a set of automatic doors leading to the arrival lobby. This was it. This was the last barrier keeping me from Harry. Well, from Sean anyway. But still.

When I was my turn, I confidently walked to the booth and slid my passport and quarantine form to the immigration agent. My knees quivered beneath me. Fuck, what if they turned me away? Ugh, this was too much to think about. Could they just randomly pick me to send back to America? I looked abnormal, I sounded like a panicked hamster because I was so anxious to see Harry. They’d probably think I was hopped up on methamphetamines. Calm down. Keep it together, Laney. Fucking keep it together.

The passport agent reviewed the quarantine form and then opened my passport. He critically studied my picture and stared at me. “Are you here for business or personal holiday, Ms. Lee?”

“Personal holiday. I’m here to visit my boyfriend who has been here from several weeks and I’m really excited to see him again because it’s been awhile.” In my panic, I rattled off the answer like I had a time limit.

The agent stared at me.

“Personal holiday.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, I’m nervous. I’ve never traveled this far from home before.”

He continued to stare at me in silence, his face so stone expressionless that I momentarily panicked that he was just biding his time to refuse my entry into the country. Without blinking or so much as making a hint of an expression, he said, “How long do you plan to stay in Japan?”

“Two weeks.”

He stared at my passport picture again. I held my breath. Finally, after what seemed like hours of deliberation, he flipped to the center of my passport and stamped it. “Welcome to Japan.”

I wanted to hug him. I smiled and took my passport back from him, briefly looking at the cancellation stamp. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Enjoy your stay, Ms. Lee.”

Fuck yeah, I would.

The baggage claim area was like a hive of buzzing bees; people moving and shifting and walking everywhere. I stared at the screen until I found my flight information and then made my way to carousel B3. Luggage was already circling and I quickly found my purple, leopard print suitcase. Japan—your efficiency is fantastic!!

Phew, another obstacle down.

I hoisted my suitcase off the carousel and adjusted the handle, heading in the direction of the arrival lobby which, for whatever reason, was still two checkpoints away. I’d have had an easier time if I’d just mailed myself to Harry. Jesus.

I was able to pass up the animal and plant quarantine area—for obvious reasons—and then strolled to the Customs checkpoint. I checked the signs above the counter: I hadn’t exceeded the duty-free allowance, mainly because I hadn’t bought anything duty-free, so I strolled to the green counter. Perfect---the line was twenty people deep.

Surprisngly, though, it moved quickly. And finally—finally!—I was released into the arrival lobby. Yay; what’s up, Japan? For as late as it was (although I admittedly had no idea what day it was, let alone the local time), the airport was hopping. The arrival lobby was an enormous, two story corridor of insanity and finding Sean was going to be ridiculous.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I pulled it out. It was a text from Harry: Sean says he’s near the escalators. Are you through customs yet?

I stared at the signs above me. Customs that way (nope), toilets that way (nope, but tempting) information straight ahead (possibly) and meet/greet area. Meet/greet sounded probable; beneath it was displayed ‘Exit.’ I texted him back. Meet/greet or information? Or exit? I’m not going to qualify myself as lost at this point, but I don’t know what day it is. So. Work with me here.

Haha, baby girl, I think it’s meeting area. Not sure.

Fabulous.

Despite less than thorough directions from Harry, I pulled my suitcase behind me toward the meet/greet area. I walked with my head held high and an air of confidence, even though I had absolutely no idea where to find the escalator, because if you look confident, act confident and like you know what you’re doing, no one will question you. I saw a few uniformed men holding up signs displaying passenger names. And, no, of course no one was holding one for me. That’d be too easy.

I glanced to the right and to the left. Oh, okay, escalator. Got it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket again. This time, it was a blank text from Harry. Also not helpful.

I started typing out a response to him, when out of my peripheral vision, I noticed someone stop walking in front of me. I looked up, half expecting it to be the passport control agent trying to drag me back to the plane.

It was Harry.

My mouth dropped open. I stood still for only a beat and then threw my arms around his shoulders. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you so much!”

His arms locked around my waist and held me against him, burying his face against my neck. “Two weeks felt like two years. You smell amazing, baby girl.”

“I put a lot of deodorant on, I’ll be completely honest.”

He laughed, pulling back far enough to look at me. His hair was pulled back in a bun and he was dressed in tight black pants and some kind of weirdly patterned black and white button down—which, as usually, was unbuttoned well below his chest. He smelled like heaven: a mixture of his Tom Ford cologne, sweat, and coconut. My face felt like it was going to split apart from smiling so broadly at him.

After several moments of staring at each other, he leaned over and crushed his lips to mine; cradling my face in his hand. His tongue played against the bolt through mine and fingertips gently pressed into my flesh. Despite the lack of sleep and my general irritation at traveling for so long, it turned me on. I felt better in his arms. I felt whole again. Loved.

The kiss was far too brief and far too tantalizing. He caught my hand in his and, lacing his fingers around mine, led me toward the escalator, pulling my suitcase behind him. “Sean really is here, baby girl. I just wanted to surprise you.”

I turned to him and grinned. “You’re a cheeky boy, Hazza.”

“Just you wait, Laney love.”

Sean was, as earlier rumored, waiting for us by the elevators. He raised his hand up for a high five. “Hey pretty girl.”

“What’s up, dude?”

“I’m glad to be done with this kid for today.” He jabbed his finger in Harry’s direction. “It’s been like dealing with a puppy. He’s been running and jumping and punching me in the arm screaming ‘Laney’s on her way!’ since five am. Five am, Laney. He’s like dealing with a puppy that hasn’t been housebroken yet.”

“I have gone wee a lot today.” Harry chuckled and pulled me against him, nuzzling against my neck. “I told Sean that he can consider himself your security detail while you’re with me. Well, when I’m not there to protect your body anyway.”

Sean took the suitcase from Harry and cocked his head to the doors. “Let’s get out of here before too many cameras come out, yes?”

Harry squeezed my hand and led me out from the shadow of the escalator and to the automatic doors leading outside. The air was damp and cool; somehow this surprised me, despite having absolutely no point of reference to what season Japan was currently experiencing. I inhaled it into my lungs. Invigorating—but mostly because of the boy beside me.

Flashbulbs lit up the sidewalks around us. He pulled me closer, protectively sliding his arm around my body. “Word gets out fast.”

I averted my eyes from the flashes, determined on keeping my vision, and tried to keep my face completely relaxed and calm. Fuck being calm—percentage wise, I’d gotten a fraction of the amount of sleep I needed to be charming. This was like facing a crowd of Susanna’s; a stampede of angry Vi’s. The girls screamed his name, the paparazzi yelled for him to tell them my name. This was chaos. It was shiny, lightening-lit chaos, but it was like nothing I’d ever seen in my life. It was a moment of epiphany. I actually understood Lady Gaga’s ‘Paparazzi.’

My eyes widened and I made a face at Harry. Oh my god, this was exactly what Lady Gaga was singing about. I was living ‘Paparazzi.’ Harry wiggled his eyebrows and started laughing. I wondered if somehow he knew what I was thinking. Of course, maybe he’d be more tickled by the thought I could name a random, somewhat current…ish pop song.

Shit, I needed some sleep. Or some bourbon.

He slowed his pace long enough to guide me towards a waiting vehicle. Waiting until I had crawled into the backseat and was safe inside, he slid in and waited while Sean tossed my suitcase to him. And then the door was shut; the roar of fans somewhat muffled.

Paddy waved at me from the front driver’s seat. “Welcome to Japan, Laney! You handled that incredibly well for a first-timer, doncha think, Harry?”

“She’s marvelous.” Harry draped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close. “I’ll give you a proper welcome once we’re back to my room. Our room.”

Sean hopped into the front passenger’s seat and drummed his fingertips on the dash. “Let’s go.”

The drive to the hotel was pretty fast, considering the late hour (I still had no idea what time it was) and Paddy’s expert driving. Harry was fairly quiet through the duration of the drive, simply holding me against him and nuzzling his face against mine. I could feel my eyelids growing heavy, the gentle rock of the car and Harry’s even inhale/exhale as he cradled me. Nooooo, don’t fall asleep. Now is not the time to fall asleep….

Luckily, I managed to stay awake long enough to see the tall, narrow tower and well-manicured drive in front of us. It looked more like an office building than a hotel, but when Paddy slowed the car in front of the blindingly bright grand entryway, I figured out this was our destination.

Harry and I climbed out; he immediately grabbed my suitcase with one hand and slid his free hand to my lower back. Circling to the passenger’s side, he drummed his hand against Sean’s window. “Don’t anticipate seeing us anytime soon.”

“As long as I see you at the show on Saturday, I’ll be happy.”

“Make sure you get her VIP tags lined up, yeah? I want her there the whole time and no one bothering her for as much as confirmation of her name.”

“Got it, Haz. Go have fun.”

We walked to the hotel together, the massive front glass door held open by a doorman dressed from head to toe in white. He bowed slightly. “Welcome to The Peninsula.”

The front lobby seemed to be made entirely of ivory and deep brownish reds, with a huge gold wood front desk in the rear. Everything was modern and well angled, except for the massive ivory pillars leading towards the front desk and the enormous, crystal chandelier hanging above. Jesus.

Harry guided me to the elevators, pressing the up button to summon the car. I nudged him with my knee. “You’re sexy when you’re all bossy and in charge.”

He caught my leg with one hand, sliding his grip to my thigh, and dipped my backwards, crushing his lips to mine. “Want me to dominate you tonight, baby girl?”

“I want you to dominate me every night, Hazza.”

The elevator couldn’t get there fast enough. He jammed his finger to the eighth floor and again kissed me. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

“Oh, stop.” I trailed my fingertips down his exposed chest. “Was your show good tonight? Did you hit those high notes you’re so afraid of?”

“I have no idea.” He moved his kisses from my lips to my throat. “I just wanted the show to be over so you’d be here with me. And here you are…fuck, Laney, you have no idea how much I missed you.”

“If it’s anything like how much I missed you, it was miserable.”

He mumbled something against my lips and, as the elevator doors opened, pulled me out and down the hallway. “I had a fit of stubbornness until management agreed to get us a deluxe suite. The other lads are here, but I told them tonight is ours. And tomorrow. And the next day.” He stopped in front of a room and swiped the keycard into the door, holding it open while I walked inside.

The lights were on; a long hallway led to one area of the suite and an open door led to another. He nodded down the hallway before dropping my suitcase on the floor and guiding me through the open door. “Living room and kitchenette are down there. Dressing room and bathroom to the right and to the left,”—he switched on a light—“is the bedroom.”

The bed was possibly queen-sized with pristine white linens, but I barely had time to take the room in before Harry swept me into his arms and crushed his mouth to mine. His lips were soft against mine, his hands immediately dropping to my capris and working them down my legs to the floor. It was frantic; passionate and panicked, far too many days of getting off over Skype when we just really were craving the feeling of our skin against each other.

He yanked his shirt over his head and then shimmied out of his pants and briefs, pulling me into his arms and my mouth back to his. We tumbled onto the bed together. Squirming and stumbling, we crawled backwards and to the middle of the bed. He rolled me to my back and eased himself on top of me. I moaned against his lips as he slid inside of me; pleasure rocketed through me to the tips of my toes. “Mmm…Harry, fuck, you feel amazing.”

His eyes were locked on mine, his teeth clamped down on his lip as he settled into an intoxicating rhythm. “You might have to give me a pass on this one, baby girl. You feel too fucking good….I want to cum already.”

“You can make it up to me later.” I hoisted my legs up and wrapped them around him, flexing my hamstrings as much as I could to get them higher up his back.

His eyelids fluttered and he touched his forehead to mine, lifting his hand to cradle my face. “I love you so much, Laney. These past two weeks, my life felt empty….but now…having you here….I’m whole again.”

I pulled him into a kiss, running my hands across his back; feeling the taut muscles underneath clenching and flexing as he made love to me. I was nearly seven thousand miles away from NOVA but here, in a hotel, in a strange city, I’d never felt more at home.

Notes