55 - Lost In The Dark Of The Night

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The bonfire on Saturday started at five o'clock, but we didn't head down until six. Harry said there would be food stalls there so we declined Anne's offer of dinner (she and Robin were staying in so the cats wouldn't be too frightened.)

I borrowed a pair of Gemma's wellies, wound a thick cream scarf around my neck, pulled on a woolly bobble hat and gloves, and walked out into the hall to see Harry wearing his trademark beanie, a thick green coat and his own pair of wellies.

"You look so cute," he grinned.

"Back at ya," I grinned back. "You're going to be recognised in about three seconds, though."

"Not if I stay in the shadows," he shrugged, and began tucking his curls under the bottom of his hat. "You ready?"

I nodded, and we said goodbye to Anne and Robin, got into Harry's car and drove towards the village. We managed to sneak into a parking space not too far from the entrance, and true to his word Harry kept his head down and his coat collar pulled up in an attempt to be inconspicuous. I paid for us to get in, and we took a leisurely walk around the edge of the field, checking out the food and drink stalls and keeping out of the light from the bonfire. We had loosely arranged to meet up with a couple of Harry's old friends, and although the event wasn't even remotely busy we couldn't see them, probably because we were lurking in the darkness out of sight.

"Shall we go on some rides?" I asked, after we'd completed one circuit of the place and approached the entrance again.

"Um... if you want," he replied.

"I love fairground rides!" I said excitedly, jumping up and down, and he chuckled.

"You're just a big kid at heart, aren't you," he teased.

"Yep," I nodded, and I grabbed him by his hand and pulled him over to a ride that had groups of cars that lurched from one side of a circle to another, while nineties dance music blared from the speakers. It was just coming to a stop, and I happily handed four pound coins to the ride operator and skipped over to a glittery pink car, Harry following behind. I pulled the bar down over our laps and Harry tucked his chin into his jacket and pulled his beanie down to his eyebrows.

"Are you cold? Or worried about being recognised?" I whispered.

"Both," he murmured. "Not that I'm bothered what people say about us. I just don't want the attention, that's all."

I glanced up nervously at the floodlight above us, and silently willed the attendant to start the ride. A minute or so later it began to move, and I shifted a bit closer to Harry as it began to pick up speed. I needn't have bothered. After about ten seconds it was in full swing and centrifugal force was squashing Harry against me so hard I could barely breathe.

"Sorry!" he shouted over the music, but all I could do was laugh, and enjoy the feeling of him pressed up against me. I relished any opportunity to have him close to me, in truth.

The night air was cold on my face as we were thrown about from side to side, and every time we neared the people standing by the railings I swept my eyes over their faces to see if anyone had noticed that one of the most famous men in the world was a couple of feet away from them. However, if they did they either weren't bothered or we had been whisked away before they could react.

The ride eventually came to a stop and I sprang out of the car and down the steps, Harry behind me.

"What next?" I asked, stepping out of the light to the side of a hot dog stand, out of view of the people queuing. "Do you want some food or something?"

"Er, yeah, maybe in a bit," he said vaguely. "Are you hungry?"

"I can wait until you're ready," I replied. "Shall we go on the ghost train or something?"

"Yeah, the ghost train sounds good," he nodded, and as we made our way across the field he slipped his hand into mine.

"I really like this," I whispered to him as we passed unnoticed through a line of people waiting for candy floss.

"Me too," he whispered back, and I looked up at him to see his eyes all crinkled at the corners. His mouth was obscured by the collar of his jacket but I could tell he was beaming at me.

His phone pinged in his pocket and he pulled it out and stared at the screen for a few moments before turning it towards me. He was showing me a text.

From: Karen: Are these the pictures you were telling me about from yesterday at the petrol station? They're all over Twitter this evening.

The message was accompanied by a picture of Harry wearing a sheepskin coat, black skinnies and his hair in a mun. The caption was 'Harry at a petrol station in North London tonight 7th Nov 15.'

"I don't get it?" I frowned.

He grinned at me. "It's been shared today, as if I'm in London now. Whoever took the picture didn't release it until today, so everyone thinks I'm still at my house, instead of up here at my mum's."

I beamed at him, and reached up to plant a quick kiss on his lips, and he smiled as he tucked his phone way in his pocket again.

"I suppose the paps have their uses, every now and again," he observed. "That will cast further doubt over the story of us at the service station too."

"I feel almost sorry for those fans," I sighed. "They're probably being abused right now. No one will believe them."

We reached the entrance to the ghost train, that had 'Rollerghoster' written across the outside in red dripping paint that looked like blood. I could hear screams from inside, and as we walked up the steps I giggled.

"Rollerghoster," I said. "That's funny."

"Roller what?" he repeated, looking down at me.

"Rollerghoster," I repeated, as the cars arrived and we stepped into one, Harry bending his gangly legs awkwardly to fit them into the confined space. "It's a play on words. Ghost train and rollercoaster."

Harry gave a strange sounding laugh, but before I could look at him the car moved off through some double doors into pitch blackness. Skeletons dangled above us, their jaws swinging menacingly, illuminated against the backdrop, and as we turned a corner a creepy looking vampire rose out of a coffin, his black cloak billowing behind him. Harry chuckled.

"It's actually quite good, isn't it," he mused.

"I love stuff like this," I grinned. "Anything creepy gets my vote."

Before Harry could respond the car plunged suddenly downwards, accompanied by a blast of icy air in our faces that literally took our breath away. I heard a small squeak from beside me, and then a breathless, "fuck."

"Language," I chided him, nudging him with my knee and he gave another weird laugh that sounded almost forced.

The car made a serious of jerky twists along the track as it slowed down, passing tombstones and what looked like a zombie climbing out of a grave. A bloodstained axe swung from the ceiling, its blade apparently narrowly missing our car, and then as we approached a set of double doors they burst open and we were back to the beginning.

We climbed out onto the metal platform and made our way down the steps onto the grass again.

"Look, the waltzers are there," I said, pointing over to them. There were a few people waiting by the booth, but we would easily get on the next go.

"Umm..," he began, biting the zip of his jacket between his lips. "Won't the fireworks be starting soon?"

"I didn't think they started until eight?" I frowned. "We've got plenty of time to do the rides and then have something to eat before they begin. And no one will see us on there, it goes too fast."

"Great," Harry replied, and let me pull him over to the ticket man to pay for us both.

"We can get some food after this if you want?" I suggested as a young guy of about sixteen pushed our safety bar down and locked it into place.

"Mmm hmm," Harry nodded, his eyes darting to the people in the other cars.

"Are you OK?" I asked, lowering my voice. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he said, brightly, his eyes crinkling again. "Just checking we're still anonymous. So far so good."

The car we were sitting in moved slowly round, hiding us from view, and I took the opportunity to lean into him, pull his collar away from him mouth and kiss him softly on the lips again.

His face broke into a beaming smile. "What was that for?" he asked.

"Because I couldn't resist," I answered. "Because you're gorgeous. Because I can."

He continued to smile at me, his eyes dancing with light from the bonfire as our car completed its slow full circle, and then the ride jerked into motion and the music increased in volume. I squealed and gripped the safety bar as the attendant span us around, and the momentum picked up as the track beneath us speeded up too. I sang along to Rhythm Is A Dancer at the top of my voice, and would have waved my hands in the air if I had been able to let go of the bar. I caught Harry's eye a few times, only to see him watching me with amusement, but I didn't care. I was loving every second of this; of being out with Harry and doing normal coupley things. It was nice to be carefree for one evening, and enjoy ourselves like this.

"Don't laugh, but this reminds me of the Night Changes video where Liam is sick in the girl's hat after riding the waltzers," I said in an undertone, as we disembarked the ride a few minutes later. "What do you fancy to eat? There's a burger van over there, or what looks like some sort of hog roast over by the hook-a-duck."

No answer.

I span around to see Harry bent over, his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths.

"Harry? What's wrong?" I asked, putting my hand gently on his back. "Oh God - are you OK?"

"'m fine," he mumbled.

"You don't look fine," I said, gently rubbing my hand over his shoulder blades.

He breathed out deeply and stood upright again, and in the light from a nearby drinks stall I could see his face was as white as a sheet.

"Harry!" a deep male voice shouted.

I looked over my shoulder to see a couple of Harry's friends jogging towards us, grinning.

"Hi," he called, weakly.

"Uh oh, Harry's been on the rides," they laughed gleefully, and as soon as the words were out of their mouths I suddenly remembered Harry had a fear of rollercoasters.

"Harry," I began, turning back to him. "Does your loathing of fast rollercoasters extend to all fairground rides?"

He nodded miserably as his friends fell about laughing and gave him a playful shove.

"Why didn't you say something?!" I cried. "I never would have suggested going on them if I'd known that!"

"You were having such a good time, I didn't want to ruin your fun," he croaked.

"Oh Harry," I sighed, as they then started ribbing him for being whipped.

He gave me a weak smile and stood up straight again and puffed out, slowly. "I'm OK. I just need to keep on level ground for a bit."

I slipped my arms round his waist and looked up at him. "You should have told me," I said softly. "I don't want you to feel ill because of me. We needn't have gone on the rides."

"It was worth it to see you enjoying yourself," he said, quietly. "You really are cute when you're having fun."

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on the lips, lingering for a couple of seconds, and he smiled as I pulled away.

"What would make you feel better?" I asked. "Do you need to eat something?"

"Yeah, some dinner would be good," he nodded, so we set off with his friends towards the fast food stands. We got in the queue and Harry's friends made sure to stand around him, keeping him out of view of anyone who may have noticed him. They clearly had his back, despite the hard time they'd given him for hating the rides, and it was nice to see.

We bought a hog roast barm each and wandered around as we ate them. It was a cold night, and eventually we had to give in and stand near the bonfire to warm up. Harry kept his hat pulled down and his collar up, and blended discreetly into the crowd in his dark clothes. After we'd finished our food he was feeling much better, and we walked back across the field towards the hook-a-duck, ring toss and basketball shot.

I stopped at the mulled wine stall and bought a large cup, and Harry and I took it in turns to take a sip, me drinking more than him as he was driving us home. He led me over to the basketball shot, eyeing up the hoops, and then cast me a cheeky sideways glance.

"Are you having a go, mate?" the man behind the stand shouted over to him, and he pulled a crumpled five pound note out of his pocket and handed it over. The man tossed three balls to him and Harry lined them up in the dip in front of him.

"How's your aim?" I asked, leaning against the side.

"Not bad," he shrugged. "I guess we'll find out."

He picked up the first ball and stared up at the hoop. It was pretty high up, and there didn't seem to be a huge amount of space above the hoops, meaning the ball was likely to bounce off the back board because of the angle of the trajectory.

Harry squinted, took aim and threw the ball into the air. It hit the backboard and bounced straight back, the attendant catching it deftly in one hand. Harry frowned.

He picked up the second ball and stared at the hoops for a moment before lining himself up in front of one of them and launching the ball again. It bounced on the edge of the hoop this time, hit the ceiling and veered off to the right.

"Damn," he muttered as the attendant retrieved it and stowed it away out of sight.

Harry took his time with the third one, spinning it in his hands a few times while flicking his eyes from the hoop, to the ceiling, to the ball in his hands. Eventually he took aim and flung the ball at the hoop. It hit the rim, bounced twice and then tipped outside the hoop into the attendant's hands.

"Never mind," I said, taking his arm as we turned away.

"I wanted to win you a cuddly toy," he said, tucking his hands in his pockets.

"Awww," I said, before I could help myself, and he gave a sheepish smile.

"Let me have a go on this one," he muttered, stopping at the next stall that had pyramids of tin cans that had to be knocked over using three small wooden balls.

"Knock them all off the shelf to win," the man in the booth barked, and Harry dug in his pockets again and handed him a couple of coins.

"You don't have to win me anything," I said softly.

"Yeah I do," he said gruffly, and he handed me his gloves and took the little wooden balls from the stallholder.

He threw the first one up in the air a couple of times, catching it in his palm, before leaning back and hurling it at the tins stacked against the wall. The top three scattered violently but the bottom three remained in place.

He gave half a smirk, before taking the second ball and hurling it at the stack again, sending two of the cans skittering off the shelf and knocking the final one over. He said nothing, but lobbed the third ball, and sent the last can spinning off the shelf onto the floor.

"Pick your prize," the man said abruptly as Harry couldn't contain the satisfied smile breaking on his lips.

"Pleased with yourself?" I murmured, stepping up to him.

He shrugged, still smirking. "No biggie."

He surveyed the display of cuddly animals, before pointing to a floppy looking grey dog with long ears and a doe-eyed expression. The man reached up and took it down, handing it to Harry with a nod of his head, before turning away to line the cans up again.

Harry squeezed it in his hands and remarked, "mmm, squidgy," before thrusting it into my arms.

I laughed as I took it and squeezed it. It was incredibly soft, and squidgy.

"Do you feel better for that?" I teased him as we stepped away from the booth and I took the last sip of the mulled wine and tossed the cup into a nearby bin.

"Yes," he nodded firmly, smiling. "Knocking stuff down is way more macho than basketball."

I chuckled again as I linked my arm in his, leaning into him as we walked along.

"Thanks," I said, after a minute.

"It's OK," he replied, strutting along with his chest puffed out, clearly proud of himself. "I just thought maybe it might be something squidgy for you to cuddle, y'know, when I'm away, 'n stuff..."

He trailed off and cleared his throat, staring towards the bonfire.

"Did you just admit that you have a squidgy bum?" I grinned.

He rolled his eyes. "No. I did no such thing."

"Um, I think you'll find you did," I argued, still grinning, and he shook his head firmly. "Harry," I reasoned. "Having a squidgy bum is nothing to be embarrassed about. Just embrace it. Be proud of who you are."

He grabbed me around the waist with both arms and held me against him tightly as I squealed. "I do not have a squidgy bum," he murmured quietly, his lips brushing my ear.

"But you really do though," I murmured back, and without warning he swung me up over his shoulder, ignoring my shrieks, and sauntered off across the field with me in a fireman's lift.

I beat his back with my fists, laughing and squealing, and eventually he set me down again on the grass, close to the perimeter fence, and grinned triumphantly.

"I'm not afraid to do that again if you misbehave," he warned, pointing his finger cockily at me, so I bit the end of it gently and he snatched it away, his eyes wide and his mouth smiling. "You are really asking for it!" he breathed as I laughed delightedly in his face.

"Yeah yeah," I retorted. "If you say so."

He shook his head in mock disappointment and we were interrupted by an announcement through a loudspeaker that the fireworks would be starting in five minutes.

"Where did your friends go?" I asked, glancing around.

"I think they were discreetly giving us some 'us' time," he smiled, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.

We waited by the fence as more people wandered over to wait for the fireworks, and when the first rocket shot up into the sky and burst into a shower of golden sparks, Harry's arms tightened around me and I leaned back against him, melting into his body heat, fitting against him like we were designed to slot together; two halves of the same piece.

There was something incredibly romantic about watching the vibrant colours exploding into the black velvet sky, standing in the middle of a crowd yet somehow invisible, in the arms of one of the most famous and desirable men in the world. The simplicity yet significance of attending a local event in Harry's home town, completely anonymous, wasn't lost on either of us.

We stayed silent, enjoying the display, while the gentle warmth from the bonfire kept the chill of the night at bay and cast a warm orange glow over the faces of the people staring up into the air.

The smell of the gunpowder and woodsmoke mixed with the aroma of mulled wine and toffee apples drifting over from the catering stands was a beautiful combination, and as Harry and I eventually turned and began to make our way back across the field, swept along by the crowd, I breathed in deeply, trying to savour this moment of pure beauty and store it in my memory.

I never wanted to forget the reassurance of his arms around me. I never wanted to forget the feel of his hand in mine, or his breath on my cheek.

I never wanted to forget how it felt to be loved by Harry Styles.

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