Amber Easton

If 3 years ago someone had told me I'd be laying in a field of dandelions with one of my favorite people in the entire world while feeling happier than ever... I would've laughed straight into their face.

And, if somebody had told me Harry Styles would be making me run as fast as I can to get to an old bridge... I would be extremely confused.

But here we are.

We spent the whole day on the flower field. I kept telling him the most random facts about them I could remember, like "Did you know there's such a thing as dandelion honey? Milk as well. And every part of the flower is edible. You know, I've heard people cook and eat them like it's meat. How crazy is that?"

To that, Harry just kept nodding whenever I asked him a reassuring question while keeping his eyes drilled on me at all times.

We napped, had snacks, daydreamed, read, listened to poetry, and laughed for hours until other people started filling the place, so we had to leave anyway. We wanted to stretch the moment of joy for a little longer, so Harry took a left turn instead of a right when driving home.

Now we're rushing up the familiar trail, the gravel crunching harshly under our feet. I still haven't figured out what's the hurry, but Harry's adamant to get us up there quickly.

"I don't know if you remember, but last time we laid on the bridge, I told you I'd take you to see shooting stars." Harry grabs my hand tighter, making me run while hiking up to our destination. "Well, it's August, and I'm a man of my word."

"It still doesn't explain why we're running." I pant out, feeling my cheeks redden from the heavy exercise.

"Well..." Even he has to take a breath from the pace we're going at. "It's because this is one of the few moonless nights this month, plus the sky's as clear as ever." He lets me cling to his hand for life. "I'm pretty sure once it gets brighter soon, we won't be able to see 'em."

"Alright, star expert," I mutter under my breath, feeling as though my lungs are about to give out. Maybe working out more often isn't such a bad idea.

"C'mon." He guides me up the last steps, now gently putting his hand on the small of my back.

Finally stepping onto our destination, I'm familiar with the dim outlines of the bridge. It's even more narrow than I'd remembered but is still so high that it invokes a tinge of anxiety in me.

I notice Harry's eyes linger onto its railing a second too long, and it makes shivers run down my spine. I'm quick to burry the strange feeling down and drag him to sit in the middle of the bridge instead so that we wouldn't even be touching the barriers.

I glance up at the darkened sky, still in awe of the thousands of luminaries up for display. Some of them are dim, and some are much brighter than others, but they all create a family of small lights as a whole.

It's truly a tear-invoking moment.

I nearly gasp when my eyes flick to a source of light flashing while slipping down the nocturnal sky. I must admit, it's shooting much slower than I'd expected, but it doesn't ruin my uncensored excitement.

"Holy shit! Is that it?" I passionately point up to the moving object, but the air gets filled with Harry's sunlit laughter instead.

"No, baby." He gently folds my finger back down. "I'm pretty sure it's an airplane."

"Oh." I sputter out a chuckle, feeling a little embarrassed.

"They should appear soon, though." He reassures, gazing up at the sky, seemingly nowhere in particular.

A curious inkling strikes in my mind, invoking the urge to stand up, and explore my sudden interest. Harry furrows his eyebrows when he watches me walk over to the railing, swiftly grip it and drag my hands over the hard edge.

Some bits of the rusted metal flake off the side, but I continue to go on my search. I feel Harry arise behind me, and hook his finger through one belt loop of my jeans for some kind of security since we're extremely high up. I'm still surprised how this bridge hasn't already been removed by the authorities, to be honest.

"Careful, Am." He tightens his grip on the piece of fabric when I lean forward a little to check out the other side. There's no way my memory's been deceiving me. Apart from a few rusted love locks, I haven't found anything unusual.

Just as I start losing hope, my fingertips meet an uneven spot on the railing. I have to apply a little friction to get the dirt and chips of rust off, but the lines start becoming more prominent the more I scrape.

A & H

I stare at the wobbly lines in awe. I blink a few times to make sure I'm not hallucinating, but it's clear as day: they're exactly the same as I remember. Even the '&' still reminds me of a pretzel.

This is going to be awkward if he doesn't remember.

"Alfie?" I whisper just the right volume for Harry to be able to hear. I feel his grip loosen out of small shock, but he recovers quickly by clearing his throat.

"Pleasure to meet you, Holly." He declares, making my sight snap up to his. I must admit, his eyes are one of the only physical traits that have stayed the exact same. I mean, his hair has become longer and much wavier, whereas his voice is deeper and raspier than it was those 3 years ago.

"What are the fucking odds?" I say each word extremely slowly as if I still don't believe it. I let Harry drag us both to sit onto the wooden boards to avoid losing our balance, and it's now made heart-wrenching eye contact. He stares at me the same way I keep staring at him — it's like we both knew for so long, but so many things have changed that it doesn't feel real. Like we're two different people now.

The more I stare into his forest eyes, the more thoughts rush through my head, and they're all revolving around the question of how did this happen in the first place. We exchange looks of amazement, looks of sorrow, and looks of disbelief, but they all create a mix of relief and closure.

"I tried finding you, you know..." He's the first one to speak up, and that tiny sentence makes my stomach flip a thousand times.

This seems like such a heavy topic, that we can't even keep eye contact, so we make it easier to just lay on the wooden boards, and gaze up at the sky, finding some sense of calmness within the astral events.

"I mean, I didn't organize a full search party, but, for the first year after that night, my eyes always subconsciously wandered around public areas in hopes to find you." He admits, his eyes drilling into one particular spot in the sky. "At every event, I was hoping to meet a certain curly brunette with the most gorgeous and unforgettable hazel eyes... but I never did."

I honestly have no idea how he has the guts to say that much, but maybe the stars above us are helping. The more I follow his sight, the more I understand he's actually looking up at the North Star.

He musters up the courage to continue. "I even tried doing some stalking on the internet, but have you got any idea how many Hollies are there in America? Over 200'000." He quickly glances over at me, before diverting his eyes back to the sky. "Yeah. It's safe to say I gave up at some point and started moving on."

"Well, fuck." I chuckle, unsure where to go from here. "Wait, so you knew I'm Holly the whole time?"

"No, no, no." He immediately sets his record straight. "First off, I didn't intentionally walk into Beachwood looking for you. Even then, I didn't recognize you. I mean, you'd changed a lot over 3 years — you seemed much more reserved than I'd remembered." He explains, and I feel our pinkies grazing each other gently. "Eventually, though, the little things like your bright laughter, your fluffy hair, or your colorful sunglasses made me suspect it. But it wasn't until I saw your tattoo that I realized you're the Holly."

I take a minute to just analyze all the information he's dumped on me. Harry seems to understand my struggle to talk, so he's taken my hand between his, and let me think about all I need. I even try to pretend to be looking for the shooting stars above our heads.

Truth be told, I'm relieved it took us such a long time to find each other again. Fate or not, I'm also glad he didn't remember me and let us have a fresh and honest start, allowing us to get to know the changed versions of ourselves without having any expectations.

"Do you have any idea how big of a mind-fuck it was to see you walking into the cafè that day?" I finally speak up, making his head turn my way. "I had the sense I'd seen you somewhere before, but then I just assumed it was because you're famous."

We look at each other for a few seconds before diverting our sights to the sky once again. "It's almost funny because a few months after that night on the bridge, I'd already forgotten the way your voice sounded like, plus it'd been so dark, that I couldn't have memorized your face even if I wanted to, so even when I saw One Direction on TV, you didn't alert my mind."

"Truth be told, I gradually began suspecting that you're Alfie by the little things you did. For example when you kept asking me, "I'll see you soon, yeah?", I started having a sense of Deja vù." I try explaining my side of the story, and I don't think he's ever listened to me as carefully as now.

The puzzled look in his eye explains that he hasn't got the words to speak, but he's interested in how I found out.

"It was actually when you took me to that bridge to see the stars for the first time, that it all suddenly just clicked in my head, but I wasn't really sure because those could've just been some coincidences." I search the sky for any falling objects, but so far nothing. "Though as we started spending more and more time together, I concluded that my suspicions had been right. Except, I wasn't sure if you even remembered, so I wasn't going to bring that up."

Harry's completely quiet for a few seconds before striking with his question. "It's always the lack of communication, isn't it?"

I let out a small river of laughter because he's right. "Well, yeah, but do you think it would've changed anything?"

He thinks thoroughly for a second or two, before letting out words laced with confidence. "No." He twists his head to trace his eyes over my every feature. "It just proves that I'd fall for any version of you. No matter the time, no matter the place, no matter your name."

My heart stops. Or, at least it feels that way.

I have to now pay attention to the way I'm breathing in and out because my entire body has suddenly frozen. The overwhelming feeling rushing through my bones doesn't seem to stop, so I have to end our eye contact and sit up from my laying position.

"Likewise, Styles. Likewise."

I feel him rise next to me, our hands still connected. His thumb draws soothing motions on my skin, igniting it with warmth.

"I guess we got lucky." I breathe out, bathing in the nice feeling.

"Don't think it was luck."

"Do you think we're written in the stars, then?" I make up another comic theory, not even believing it myself.

"Nah." He shrugs, making me chuckle. "We are the stars, darling."

A mix of the golden sun and the nocturnal moon.

His forest eyes drill deeply into my dumbfounded ones, and I'm so close to kissing him, but he smirks, looking up at the sky instead.

He lets out a frustrated breath from interrupting such a moment. "Look up, Am."

I confusedly follow his sight, unsure where to look at. It isn't until sudden light races across the sky, making a huge smile instantly slide onto my cheeks.

One shooting star is followed by another, and now I'm a mess, gasping for air, and clutching Harry's hand in wonder. I quickly glance his way to see if he's also enjoying the magnificent event above us, but he's just been looking at me and smiling almost bigger than I am.

His bunny teeth start showing when he hears my amused laughter, and he closes his eyes for a moment when I brush a single curl out of his lashes.

If this is what falling in love feels like... I'm not afraid of it breaking.

I gently press my lips onto the spot where one of his dimples has appeared, making them dig a little deeper. When I move to kiss the other one, he pulls me onto his lap in one swift motion, my legs hanging on either side of his body.

I've never seen him smirk this wide.

"Amber, Amber, Amber..." He's shaking his head now in a slow manner.

"The things you do to me, I swear." He continues shaking his head, his eyes a little droopy.

"Yeah?" I press one quick kiss to his jawline. "Do I make you feel butterflies?" I ask, pressing another short kiss closer to his lips now.

"Do I make you see stars?" I don't let him answer, kissing him again instead. "Do I ever make you feel overwhelmed because of nothing in particular?" I'm less than an inch away from his lips. "Because you sure as hell make me feel that way. All. The fucking. Time."

"You don't know the half of it, baby." He steals my next kiss, being the first one to crash his lips on mine.

Yep. I can die happily now.

His arms are locked around my back, creating a sensation of a warm hug. The intensity of this kiss becomes almost unbearable, especially when he wraps his finger around a single strand of my hair and twirls it soothingly.

I push my hands against his shoulders to make him lay down on the uneven ground. We detach our lips for a few seconds to draw in nervous breaths, only to snap them back together like puzzle pieces.

A taste of cherry and vanilla is being mixed together, and it's creating a sensation that I'm not sure I'll ever get enough of.

He clings to me like he wants me forever.

"Fuck, Harry," I speak between small kisses, pressing the final sweet pecks onto his lips and cheeks, before rolling over to lay by his side.

What did I do to deserve this?

Even though the wooden boards are extremely uncomfortable, I can't seem to focus on anything else other than the way he's holding me by his side.

One of his arms is still wrapped around me to keep me pressed to him, while still being able to look up at the stars.

Totally out of breath, I continue to search for the falling meteors, which keep appearing on every side of the sky. I take notice of how the moon's shining as bright as ever, and being in the center of attention.

I can't believe I'm so lucky to be a part of such a phenomenal event.

"Make a wish, baby," I whisper in his ear, watching this movie-like moment unfold right before our eyes.

"I won't." He shakes his head, unable to take his eyes off me.

"Why not?" I've counted at least 7 shooting stars so far, and am pretty sure it would be ridiculous to waste such an opportunity.

"Simply because I've got everything I need right beside me."

I try to ignore the way my heart just sunk to my stomach. "Wish for it to last forever, then."

"You do realize that wishes shouldn't be said out loud, right? It's bad luck." His bunny teeth are back.

"Well, promise me, then." I spot another one falling through the sky.

"Promise what?" He turns his head to wait for me to do the same.

"You and me. Forever, baby."

"Don't worry. There's no way I'm ever giving this up." He chuckles, his irises drilling deeply into mine.

"Promise? Forever?" I'm as serious as ever, struggling to draw in smooth breaths.

" 'Till the sun stops shining, honey." He nods, giving me a kiss on the forehead. I deliberately wrap my pinkie finger around his to solidify the promise.

"Good." I go back to searching for new falling stars.

"Good."

~~~

I must admit, past-midnight drives are actually delightful.

I might've gone crazy — I mean, why am I in a car, driving through the suburbs in absolute darkness with nobody around? Seems like I haven't learned anything from my past mistakes.

But it's different this time.

Winnie the Pooh sits on the dashboard of the white convertible, being in the protection of Harry. As I said, he carries the toy everywhere.

We finally figured out how to work the radio. Turns out, you just have to press two particular buttons together, and it'll turn on instantly. I felt like Ms. Middleton trying to work out her TV.

A random radio station is turned on, and now we're sitting in silence and enjoying the night with the wind blowing through our hair.

Somewhere between the music notes, a message tone rings through my phone, and it makes my heart drop to my feet because I already have a feeling who it's from.

Why do nice things always have to be ruined so quickly?

I pull the device out with trepidation, watching the screen light up with the unknown number's messages.

Unknown:
2:37 am

If I didn't want to throw up before, I sure as hell want to now.

What the fuck?

How did they even know Harry has trauma from gifts? He said he's never told anyone about it, so even New York — or Hayley — wouldn't have known.

How did they even know I gave him the teddy bear?

It's like they've been watching us. Or rather... Listening.

They couldn't put cameras or stalk us everywhere we go, but what if our phones have been bugged?

I mean, it's the only logical explanation of how they would've known the right times to strike. If my theory is correct, it means they would have the chance to listen to our conversations, and know our exact locations, so that we would never run into each other.

From what I've heard, phone bugs are essentially listening devices that let others hear calls and conversations even when the phone is turned off.

One question keeps scratching the back of my mind like crazy — how did our phones even get tapped?

The listening device has to be physically inserted in the back of the phone, so we probably spent quite a long time or were distracted enough by that person.

If Harry's phone is bugged, it would make sense that it was Hayley — his ex — who inserted the device, but for me? It only means that the person sending the messages is somebody who's really close to me.

It does make me feel a little better that our most private calls happened over the flip phones Harry insisted on using, so not every bit of our privacy has been exposed.

"Everything all right?" Harry snaps his eyes my way suspiciously.

I know I promised him to tell everything about the texts, but this is different. I know he would give away his bear with no question, but I'm afraid that would just break his soul for the final time.

"Yeah. Liv's just nervous about an audition tomorrow. She can't sleep." I hate lying to him, but this is slightly better than heartbreak. Plus, if our phones really are bugged, it's safer to keep quiet at this time.

"Oh." He draws a hand through his ruffled hair, wiping the few bits of sleep out of his eyes.

I turn the radio louder, carefully trying not to mess it up. I try to do it as smoothly as possible so that he doesn't notice my shaking hands.

I lean back in my seat, the teddy bear staring right at me with eyes so lovely. It holds so much joy.

I can't do it.

I think about the possibility of rushing to the mall and buying a new one to throw in the trash can, but all stores are closed at night, so there's no way I could do it in time.

Even if I did do it