Summer With Styles

Macey Calihan is a grown woman now, and when she comes in contact with an old box of keepsakes, she remembers a series of incidents that made her the woman she is today. As a youngster, she was struggling with past occurrences of suicide, self harm, and of course depression, all while trying to balance out the good and bad things of her life. She was so close to happiness when her adoptive parents informed her she and her brother, Carter, would be going to the U.K. to spend the summer at her father's recording studio. She then meets the boy -- or boys -- who save her life, only to pick it up and wreck it again in a new, exciting way. Macey falls head over heels for one, while another falls for her. The only thing standing in her way of happiness, is one decision. But as it turns out, some decisions make themselves whether you like it or not.

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4. Waiting Forever

 

My hatred for life was getting thinner, and everything had changed somehow. I was perkier, more open to new ideas and techniques. So open – in fact – that I agreed to go to a One Direction concert to watch Harry perform.

I stood with Carter at the side of the stage, watching them sing and dance and surprisingly I danced along. Every now and then I caught Harry glancing over at me and smiling, occasionally a little wave too.

Their fans were intense, screaming and jumping up and down. How did he do it? How did he go out there in front of all those people and be himself without getting nervous? If that were me, I'd faint right in front of the crowd.

After the concert, Harry and I finally got time to ourselves while everyone else was at the after party. He helped me limp to his car, and shut the door behind me. Sliding in the driver's seat, he said, “Tonight's the night. Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Confused, I checked my reflection to make sure I didn't look too horrible to be seen in public with him.

“To go meet my parents.”

I freaked and jumped from my seat, inevitably hitting my forehead on the sun visor. He laughed so hard his eyes fell tightly shut, and he doubled over, holding his stomach. “That's not funny, Harry!”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he said as he continued to laugh. Entertained, I laughed along too, but that didn't stop me from declining his request.

“I don't think I want to meet them,” I finally replied.

“Why not?”

“Because I'm...me.” My eyes darted to my feet immediately, remembering everything about myself that I still hated. The way I looked, the way I acted, my inability to communicate with new people. “What if they hate me?”

“You're perfect,” he said kindly, placing a hand on my bare knee. “Everything about you is perfect and if they don't like you, then that's their problem. What matters is that I do.”

Harry had only known me for a little over a month, and to think he already found perfection in my insecurities made me feel so important and wanted...something I'd never felt before. We drove away with music blaring, and arrived to his house in about twenty minutes. As we pulled into the drive way, I lost all control of my thoughts and breathing.

“I'm scared,” I said as we stepped up to the front door. “I can't do this.”

I began to turn and walk away but he grabbed my hand, spinning me back around to face him. He placed a hand on my waist and planted a giant kiss right on my lips. “You can do this, Macey. You can do anything. I've seen you go from this shy, self-conscious girl to who you are now. Come on.”

Again he took my hand and inched me to the door, ringing the bell. A woman opened it and greeted us both with hugs and a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, darling! This must be Macey. Harry's told us so much about you.”

A young girl with blonde hair appeared behind her with a face just like Harry's. “He never shuts up about you, actually. Hi, I'm Gemma, Harry's sister.”

“That's my best friend's name,” I said, smiling and taking her offering hug. Okay so maybe it's not the best conversation starter, but ti's the first thing that came to mind.

“Well come on in then, sweetie, you can call me Anne,” his mom said, pulling us both inside. They had a beautiful home, English architecture, and a cozy lounge to boot. We sat around the center table and chatted about Harry mostly, until she began asking me questions.

She sat her tea down and asked, “What's your familly like, Macey?”

I hesitated, frightened. But Harry nudged me and I began. “I uhm...my dad is Joe Calihan, one of the producers from Sony Entertainment. My mom, Lizzie, used to be a lawyer but now she stays home. I have a brother as well, Carter.”

“I know Joe Calihan!” Gemma stated. “I went to his condo a few months ago to pick up Harry. I found him drunk on the sofa.”

We laughed together. “It must be exciting being the daughter of a music producer. I bet you were born here in England,” Anne said.

“Actually, no, I'm adopted.”

“Oh, my apologies.” She sounded regretful, but perked up a bit after I guaranteed her it was fine. “I would love to meet them someday. How long will you be in town?”

“Mum,” Harry groaned. “You don't have to interrogate her.”

“It's fine,” I said. “Til sometime in September. I actually planned on leaving in August, on my eighteenth birthday, but then I met Harry here.”

“Well, that's just wonderful. That gives us plenty of time to get to know each other,” Gemma said playfully. “We can go to the shops and go see a film with Eleanor and Danielle.”

“Who?”

“Louis' and Liam's girlfriends,” said Harry. “They're all about hanging out with Gemma. I personally don't get the female bonding stuff.”

Honestly I wasn't looking forward to “hanging out” with Gemma and the others. After all, all I wanted to do was be with Harry. And when I couldn't be with Harry, I just wanted alone time. Frankly that was too much for a girl to ask for.

Cracks of thunder rumbled outside the window, shaking the entire brick house. “That sounds dreadful,” said Anne in a worried tone. “Harry I don't want you driving in a storm. You can stay here tonight, young man.”

“But how is Macey to get home?” He argued.

“She can stay here!” Gemma offered. “She can sleep in the bedroom in the bungalow.”

Oh, happy happy joy joy. “No, really, I'll just call a cab. It's no big deal.”

“Come on,” Gemma encouraged. “It's really comfortable out there. We'd love to have you.”

I guess they made my decision for me. Gemma took fresh blankets, sheets, and pillows out to the small cottage-like building and helped me settle in and allowed me to borrow some of her nigh clothes. I called my parents to let them know where I was, and they're response was to “have fun.”

How on this Earth would it ever be considered fun?

Lost, deep inside my dreams, my mind was on clouds with every possible good thing occurring left and right. Then...

Tap, tap, tap.

Was that the door?

Tap, tap, tap.

Getting up from the warm bed, I rubbed my eyes and found my way to the door in the pitch blackness. Behind it, Harry stood with a bouquet of roses and a smile upon his angelic face. “Harry, what are you doing? It's two in the morning!”

“I got you flowers from mum's garden.”

He handed me rain-drenched roses and kissed my cheek before taking off his sopping wet jacket. “Hell,” he said, looking down at his shirt. “Do you mind if I take off my shirt?”

“Not at all,” I replied, not really paying attention as I dipped the roses into the face that sat on the end table. Turning back around, I saw his figure coming closer and closer to me. “Harry...” I sighed as he wrapped his arms around my body. His skin felt so cold from the rain, and smooth like a baby's. I never wanted to stop touching it.

“I hope my four nipples don't scare you,” he laughed. I giggled and shook my head, placing a kiss on his firm, wet lips. I pulled away in a second only to have him pull my face back to his, kissing me again. But this time it was powerful, not forced, but strong and affectionate. I leaned into it as he swooped me from the ground and wrapped my legs around his waist.

Suddenly, my backside hit the bed and he was on top of me then, his hands inching their way up my thighs. I grabbed it abruptly, stopping him from going further. “No, Harry,” I warned him.

He's eyes grew upset that he had went too far. “I'm sorry, I thought you wanted me to.”

“I do, I do,” I said. “It's just that...I've never...”

“I'm sorry, I...” He got off and rested his head in his hands. “I feel so bad.”

I raised up to comfort him in the best way possible. “It's okay, it's fine. I just want you to respect my boundaries. If you do that, then it's okay.”

“Of course I will,” he said, wrapping his arm around me. “I'll wait for you forever if I have to.”

 

 

But really, how long would forever be? Looking back on that girl I was in the bungalow, I remember the thoughts of doubt rushing through her head. She knew he would leave her eventually, whether she gave herself to him or not. Just like every guy she pursued in the past did. I pulled a single dead rose from my keepsake box. It reminds me of forever, and waiting for that right moment to give all your love to someone. It reminds me of the night we spent there at his house cuddling til the daylight. But sometimes forever is just too long.

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