Part One | Chapter Three: Harry

London, England

December 1915

Christmas at the Styles' is quite different from how it is back home in Champagne. Having been brought up there in near isolation, being surrounded by so many unfamiliar faces can be quite frightening, and while I've decided to stay close to my friend for most of the morning, she's a socialite who insists on introducing me to everyone she sees and then disappearing for hours. She has a very big family and more people have gathered in this tight house than I've ever seen in my own home.

My friend, Thea, is the eldest daughter of the family I'm staying with for Christmas break. She's the only name I have remembered so far, but I'm sure when we're all a bit sober, I'll be able to recall and put names to faces.

People are still arriving, even though it's 9 in the evening. As I look around, holding a glass of wine to my lips, I notice that there are no signs of this party stopping anytime soon. While I'm growing tired by the second, it seems like this family is going to stay awake to see 1916 happen, and when they all kiss each other at midnight, they'll fall asleep as well. There are still 6 days until the New Year, but this family is certainly laughing and drinking as if it's their last month.

I drink as much as the average person does, having given into the invitations with some of Thea's older cousins. I find myself a bit tipsy, accidentally bumping into the corners of tables and chairs and laughing strangers as I find a place to sit. Most parties back at home aren't this lively, which comes as a shock to the English people I've stayed with because we seem to give off the impression as being well balanced in our daily and nightlife. That may be a part of French culture that I'm not all that familiar with because it's not how I was raised.

I was raised by my parents to be proper and courteous and docile even when I wanted to throw a tantrum and get my way. The first lesson I received was that things won't always go my way and it's my right to be the bigger person and accept it. Parties meant drinking and loud brash comments one could not take back.

But I am not that person who is proper and courteous, no matter how much it was drilled into me. I get angry easily, despite my better judgement, and I'm not often a good conversationalist.

I feel out of place right now. Thea is nowhere to be seen, so I sit down in the family room and watch the relatives hang by the fire, drinking and having a wonderful time. The small prick of tiredness has begun to grow and soon I find myself nearly fallen over, asleep.

When I'm very tired, I become a bit delirious. I'll hear ringing in my ears and stiffen as I fall asleep, and perhaps that's why I don't notice the person beside me. The room spins until I find the magnetic center, falling towards it. My temple hurts from the hard object poking at my temple, but it's support, regardless of how uncomfortable. The hum of busy people becomes a white noise, my brain shutting off, everything coming to a rest.

Suddenly, there's a voice, just a small murmur in my ear. The cracking of the fire nearly draws me back to the warm sleep I so desperately try to accept, but then the hard person nudges me. Forcing myself into an upright position, I open my mouth to apologize to whoever I've fallen on.

"It's fine," the drowsy voice says. "I was just making sure you're alright. Don't know what to do when people pass out, that's all."

My vision focuses on a man about my age with thick brown curls falling into his eyes, an amused expression on his face. His eyes, however, are just as tired as mine, a light green shade that reflects that orange flames from the fire.

"Sorry," I mutter, dragging my hand under my mouth because I've been one to accidentally drool in my sleep. "I just nodded off."

The man hums, raising his glass to the stairs. "Have you been given a room yet?"

"Yes. It's just that I don't want to be rude and head upstairs early." I put distance between us, scooting away. "Sorry, I just landed on you."

He ignores my embarrassed apology for a second time. "I can tell them to keep it down if you want to head to bed. It's not a big deal," the stranger offers with a new concerned expression. "You're Thea's guest, right? I'm sure they'll want you to sleep well after your travels."

I shake my head, looking back at the fire to wake myself up from the bright light. "Oh, no. That's alright. I'll just be up until they sleep."

The man leans in a bit. "Are you sure? It's not a big deal."

"It's alright." I pause, glancing over my shoulder. Sleep fogs my memory and my reactions are late. "Sorry, how do you know I'm Thea's guest? Everyone here is a guest."

With a quirk of his brow, the man says, "Right, well, it's just that I know everyone here except you, and you're the only one here speaking like... that."

I look back to the bright flames. "I see. I'm working on it but it's nice to know my efforts are failing."

"Trying to lose the accent?" the stranger asks, concerned once more. "Why? It's quite nice to hear something different."

The drowsiness is causing me to complain to a stranger. I barely register my shoulders shrugging and my mouth opening to speak again. The lightheadedness settles in, eyes defocusing despite the brightness of the flames. "People say they can't understand me. Leads to them not taking me seriously."

From the corner of my eye, I see the stranger sit back against his seat and shrug his own shoulders. "I understand you just fine. And I'm taking this conversation quite seriously even though you're nodding off as I continue."

I sigh, pressing a palm to my eye. "Sorry. Your voice is just... it's putting me to sleep."

Knowing I've said the wrong thing, the stranger and I sit in silence. A moment passes and he says, "What's your name?"

"Annaliese. It's nice to meet you."

The man laughs quietly, causing me to divert my attention back to him. As my eyelids grow heavy, my vision swims a bit, and I'm suddenly unsure if I'm dreaming or just that lightheaded. "Why are you laughing?"

"Well," he says casually, throwing an arm over the backside of the couch, showing off a pair of dimples. "You're saying it's nice to meet me but I haven't even told you my name."

I tilt my head back as it suddenly feels too heavy for me to hold upright. His voice sounds far away. "What's your name?" I hear myself asking. I have asked this question to at least fifty people today and I will not remember his, but I have to be friendly to all of Thea's guests.

The smile is evident in his voice. "How about I tell you tomorrow, so you'll actually remember it?"

"Sounds like an excellent idea."

The silence returns and I blink my eyes to keep myself awake, but the final nail on the head is when the man beside me stands up and holds his hand out. I don't know him, but he looks warm and inviting, so I put my hand in his. He hoists me up. My body leans on him for support unintentionally, however, he doesn't seem to mind except when he has to walk me up the stairs. There, he struggles a bit, and if I were in my right mind, I'd help him.

Lightheaded and dizzy, I'm willing to go anywhere, as long as I'm half carried like this. In a sober and less tired state, I'd be mortified, but I can't be bothered to lift a single foot until he murmurs in my ear that I must if I'm going to make it safely. Safely? Where are we going that the journey is expected to be dangerous? I want to ask, but it's in that exact moment that we stop. He pushes open a door for me and sits me down on the bed.

"Oh," I whisper. "It's my room."

The stranger laughs. "Glad I got it right. I'll tell them to keep it down. You get some rest." I need to change out of my clothes, but he lingers for a bit. "Are you alright?"

"So tired."

"Right. Well. Goodnight."

I think he smiles at me.

"You don't need to tell them to keep it down. The way I'm about to sleep, not even a gunshot will wake me up."

The stranger's footsteps are heavy as he walks away from me, closing the door until it's almost shut. The final thing I remember is his voice assuring me, "I'm sure nobody will be firing any guns tonight."

***

Apparently, I can't handle my alcohol well because everyone is chirpy in the morning while I cradle my head at the dining table, letting Thea laugh and poke me. I want nothing more but to head back to bed, but the family woke up early and began making a ruckus. I had fallen asleep in my clothes and they irritated me too much for me to sleep in.

I'm massaging my own head when a cup of coffee is put in front of me, and then the seat across from mine is taken by the man I vaguely remember from last night. He looks far more refreshed than me, light eyes awake and alert. He nods at the drink.

"It'll help."

I frown down at it, wrapping my hands around the mug. It smells lovely, but a bit too strong for my taste. Sipping cautiously at the bitter coffee, I peer at the man, tilting my head. He looks at me over his mug too, though from the movement of his throat, I can tell he's not taking small sips like me, but somewhat bigger gulps. Freshly showered and shaved, he looks handsome in his regular shirt and trousers, crossing one leg over the other comfortably.

"Harry," he says when he puts the mug back on the table. "We met last night when you were pissed."

"I wasn't pissed," I protest, putting my mug down as well, keeping my hands around it. The warmth causes goosebumps to rise on my arms. "I was just sleep deprived."

"Of course. My mistake. Did you sleep well?"

"I did."

He nods. "Good."

Thea returns to the table with a bowl of fruits, stabbing her fork into an apple slice. "You came home late last night," she tells Harry as she chews. "Mum said you'd be home by afternoon."

"I was visiting someone on the way."

Thea's eyes shine. "The girl you're seeing?"

Harry's eyebrows raise and he leans in with narrowed eyes. "How do you know about her?"

"Everyone knows. You think you can sneak off and go on dates and just expect us to stay in the dark?"

"I thought putting a few miles between myself and this house would give me the ability to breathe a bit better, but of course, I was wrong."

Thea bites into her apple. "When are you not wrong?"

I finally piece it together. This is Thea's brother, Harry, who goes to Kings College. He's graduating this spring. As if he knows I'm thinking about him, he looks over at me and says, "I thought Annaliese was going to be here a bit later? You said the 27th."

He's talking as if I'm not here. Having dealt with this before, I sit up straighter and answer for Thea. After all, he's speaking about me, not her. "Found no reason to do Christmas alone."

He nods as he takes a sip. "It's just that you've taken my room."

It makes sense. I couldn't figure out for the life of me why the guest room had a closet filled with men's clothing and professional attire. "I won't touch anything," I tell him honestly.

The amused expression that frequently finds its way onto his face returns, this time his eyes shining as well. Thea's audible chewing serves as a background noise as I lean in to listen to him when he speaks. The kitchen is filling up and the Styles family can be quite loud.

He doesn't answer my promise, instead saying, "Is there a nickname I can use for you? Annaliese is quite mouthful."

At that moment, I forget all my manners and the etiquettes I've been taught by my parents and the years of private schooling. This is a question I've heard too many times, and it irritates me to no end when I have to answer politely, providing them with any nickname, such as Ann or Annie. Perhaps it's my hangover mind that rejects all notions of politeness, but I suddenly can't take this question anymore. With my arms crossed over my stomach, I tell him, "No. It's either Annaliese, or it's nothing."

A smile spreads across his face. "But I cannot pronounce it right."

Thea is called by her mother to help in the kitchen. She leaves before I can answer her brother.

I say, "I'd like you to try pronouncing it correctly. That would make me happy."

"But I can't."

"Figure out how to pronounce it correctly."

"Is it German or French?"

"Both."

"Hmm," he says thoughtfully. "Alright. I'll just have to say your name frequently in order to get it right."

"It's really not that difficult."

Harry tilts his head and then stands up, neatly pushing his chair back in. "I'd still like to practice." My eyes don't follow him as he walks away. I can't help but be intrigued by the conversation, eager to hear from him again.

At least my mom was right about one thing. Drunk men are vastly different from their sober selves.

***

I continue to see glimpses of Harry as the nights go by because gatherings are held nearly every night. They go well into the morning and most people don't get to their beds until 3 in the morning. I am not one of these people. The Christmas carols have stopped and now the relatives of the family I'm staying with have turned to bellowing songs about the New Year. I don't know any of them.

I learn that Harry can be social when he wants to and that he loves telling stories about people he's met. He's very hard to avoid. It's also very hard to get him to stay quiet for long. The man loves to talk about anything and everything. He has an opinion for everything so getting sucked into an argument is very possible.

Harry and I have been talking more. I learn about how his dream job is to teach history while working with historians when he has spare time. He particular loves learning about ancient cities and ruins. Harry has a lot of opinions, but he also has a lot of facts. He's an intelligent man.

Aside from that, Harry's also very attractive. I don't become used to his looks for a while, my cheeks burning when I catch his eye from across the room or when he sends me that ridiculously attractive smile after he's decided he's won during a heated conversation between us.

I can't help the slight jump of my heart when I see him throughout the day and I've become excited to witness the next party even though I usually wouldn't have. He's charming, to say the least. How cliche is it for me to have a crush on my best friend's brother?

Harry's the life of the party every night. But he's also dead tired like Thea and I every single night.

It's New Year's Eve. Thea is nearly asleep next to me. Harry too, on the other side.

Finally, Thea decides to get up and head to her room, mumbling something about sleeping like the dead. Harry and I are left on the same couch once more, eyelids heavy.

"You can fall asleep on me again if you want," Harry murmurs, a deep sound vibrating from his throat that makes me want to take up on his offer. "Annaliese."

I glance at him. "Yes?"

"Nothing. Was just testing your name to make sure I got it right. Did I?"

"You did," I tell him, desperately trying to force my voice to stop being so high pitched. "I'm beginning to think you were just faking not saying it correctly. You're funny."

"I have been known for being quite a funny guy."

"Only when you're drunk maybe."

"What am I like when I'm not drunk?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should talk when you're not drunk."

He laughs and leans in. "I'm rarely ever drunk, Annaliese. What you see is the real me."

We continue our banter until I physically can't keep up and he offers to take me back to my room, half dragging as usual. I need to time my departure better. I can't be on the verge of collapse all the time.

He brings me to my door and lets me rest against the doorframe. The gentle music grows fainter, and colder air makes us shiver.

I look at him for a long time after my vision focuses on him, taking him in. He looks less tired than me now, while I'm about to drop. I reach behind me to open the door but Harry suddenly steps forward and stops my hand from twisting the handle. The close proximity forces me to get a whiff of his scent, alcohol mixed with some spice.

There's suddenly a loud cheer from downstairs and a shout of "Happy New Year!"

Harry doesn't say anything, but I notice that he's beginning to lean in. Suddenly excited, I lean in also, closing my eyes. His mouth is warm and hesitant, but when I wrap my arms around him, he holds my waist and kisses me firmly, pressing my back against the door. He tastes like the candy canes I've seen him eat all day today, peppermint on his lips and tongue. Having that taste in my mouth causes me to want to press myself closer to him while he's completely unaware of his effect on me.

"Annaliese," he whispers against my mouth, barely audible. "Annaliese."

I tilt my head back and open my eyes, dragging my hands down his shoulders. I hold his sleeves tightly. "Harry."

"Am I saying it right?" he grins, leaning in to kiss my neck softly. I give him more access, my breathing shaky.

"Yes."

"I like saying it."

"I like saying yours. Harry."

"Sounds good when you say it in your accent. From your throat." His thumb brushes against my throat as he says the word. "But you know what? I think like kissing you even more."

With that, he presses kisses to the other side of my neck. Embarrassingly enough, I'm nervous and I can't help but swallow anxiously. His kisses tickle so good. Harry smiles as he pulls away. "What?"

"Sorry! Sorry, no it's nothing."

"Sorry?" he repeats, brushing his lips up my jaw. "I don't like when people apologize to me. Don't do that."

He slowly pulls away and rests his forehead on mine, smiling sleepily. He steps back and reaches for my hand still on his neck. He kisses my palm and then sighs, "I've got to leave you now or you'll die from how tired you are. Goodnight, Annaliese. Happy New Year."

And that is the first time I think about how lovely it was to have Harry's mouth on mine. I hope he kisses me again soon.