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adore-laur · 6 months

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THE WAY OF LOVE

— brandy meets a mysterious boy who gives her the best night of her life 🪩

——

LONG BEACH, 1972

Tizzy heels teetering like a playground seesaw.

Fizzy soda bubbling like a carbonated jacuzzi.

Dizzy vision warping like a kaleidoscopic mirror.

The Pike Amusement Park holds the key to all these buzzing delights. With striking colors and candy smoke, whirling rides and drunken carnies, electrified screams and chic ensembles, Brandy has been stung by the metaphorical buzz. She feels like she's stumbled into a thrill-seeking utopia or a timeless rotunda of adrenaline. Her focus blurs as she waits in line for the Ferris wheel. The red, blue, and yellow gondolas spin around, almost making her nauseous on top of the pungent scent of powdered funnel cakes and greasy cheese fries wafting throughout the summer air.

When the wheel stops with a rusty creak, a group of rowdy boys scramble out and usher themselves through the maze of metal bars to go for another ride. They flock behind her and laugh obnoxiously. They can hoot and holler all they want, but Brandy finds boys her age annoying. They're always arrogant and talk like they're taller than the trees.

The unoccupied red gondola awaits the next passenger, and before Brandy can take a step forward, she's pulled into it by her older sister, Shannon. They set their woven purses under the seats and then sit down. The wheel moves up one spot to let the boys on, and Brandy peeks over the edge to find them jokingly rocking their gondola to mess with their friend, who's still stepping on. She scowls at their immature antics. They're creating such a ruckus! All she wants is a quiet and peaceful ride to the top to admire the fair from a bird's-eye view.

"I just downed a slushy in record time, so I might vomit," Shannon informs through a hiccup.

Brandy twists back around. "What flavor was it again?"

"Cherry. I swear they spiked it with something."

"Hey, at least it'll match the color of our gondola. Just make sure to vomit in your purse and not on my new sneakers, please."

She'll be livid if her spotless Nike Blazers that took literally months to save up for get ruined.

Shannon rolls her eyes, but they quickly widen when the wheel jolts and starts up again. Brandy grips the edge behind her and looks down at the ground, which slowly becomes farther away. She can just barely see the boys doing the same thing.

She peers out at the fair when it comes to a standstill at the very top. Rides swoop, people parade around, and food trucks sparkle in the sun. She's appreciating all the excitement when suddenly an object faintly hits her shoulder. Something falls next to her thigh, and she picks it up with a confused dip to her eyebrows. It appears to be a piece of caramel corn. Is there a hole in the gondola above them? Is she hallucinating from all the vivid colors? Is it raining caramel corn?

Her ears tune into quiet snickering and hushing coming from below. Of course, it was those ratty boys, Brandy thinks to herself. She grumbles under her breath and moves to sit directly next to Shannon so she's out of their aim.

The wheel begins to spin again, putting the boys above them. They're prattling on and gesturing wildly about some sports game they desperately need to catch on television tonight. Brandy can hear athletes' names and statistics spewing out of their mouths, but she can't understand anything. Sports genuinely bore her to death.

Brandy and Shannon get stopped at the bottom after only two rotations. They both huff in disappointment, mutually hating how this Ferris wheel rips people off. Grabbing her purse, Brandy follows Shannon out and carefully watches her step so she doesn't trip in front of anyone. They walk through the exit gate, and Shannon strolls ahead to throw away her empty slushy cup in a nearby garbage can. A sharp whistle makes Brandy stop and look for where the noise came from. It conducts her vision up to the yellow gondola.

Great. She could've guessed that they were catcallers.

She just scoffs and continues walking. God forbid her shoulders are showing! All she's wearing is a dandelion-colored jumpsuit that's not even terribly revealing. She went thrifting a while ago to find something that looked like an outfit Cher, her inspiration, wore on television a month ago. It's not an uncanny resemblance, but it makes her proud.

"Hey!"

Brandy halts again at the deeply spoken exclamation. She closes her eyes and mentally prepares herself for what one of them will say to her. She's gotten used to hearing strange and creepy comments, especially since she lives in a tourist city, and she usually chooses to ignore them. She doesn't know why she's about to entertain this certain circumstance.

Rolling back her shoulders, she turns to face the dreaded gondola again. She's surprised at what her eyes land on. A boy is leaning over the edge and looking at her. He has long, curly hair flowing down to his collar bones, and he wears a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A few buttons are undone, revealing two gold necklaces glimmering against his sun-kissed chest. Black sunglasses sit atop his head to hold his lion mane back. With a sharp jawline, pink lips, salient cheekbones, hypnotically green eyes, and a dimpled smile with pearly bunny teeth, Brandy thinks his face must have been sculpted by Michelangelo. He appears to be a rich boy who dresses like he's running late to a casual business meeting. What could he possibly want other than to bug her?

Crossing her arms, Brandy waits for stupidity to leave his alluring mouth. Her gaze is locked onto his so she doesn't become entranced by his pillowy lips, the near exact color of the strawberry taffy that vendors are pulling by hand down at the beach.

The mysterious boy folds his arms along the edge, placing his chin on them as if mockingly teasing her impatient stance. Standing under direct sunlight, she's starting to swelter. Or is it his intense stare and unreadable smirk that's making her sweat? She hastily gestures her hand to get him to say something so she can leave.

Two of his fingers curl back to beckon her closer. She puts her hands on her hips and begrudgingly marches towards him, tilting her head even more to maintain eye contact. He licks the right crease of his quirked lips and circles his pointer finger. "Are you perhaps a fan of Cher?"

"Yes... why?" Brandy asks cautiously. If he even attempts to talk negatively of Cher, she'll have to climb up the wheel and kick his perfect teeth in.

"Your outfit just looks like something she wore recently, that's all," he says while tossing some caramel corn in his mouth. Was he the one who threw it? "I really dig it."

She rubs the back of her neck, feeling foolish for thinking he'd be another one of those arrogant boys she refuses to waste her time on. "Oh, thanks. She's my idol. Her fashion sense is unreal."

He nods his head as he chews. "She's far out. Do you watch The Sonny and Cher Show?"

"Every Sunday night on CBS. I always make sure I have no plans so I don't miss it."

A dimple indents his face. "They're hilarious, aren't they? They make my belly ache from laughing so hard."

"Totally." She steps closer when the wheel moves up one spot, raising her voice over the surrounding noises. "When Cher sings at the end, the entire world stops!"

"Exactly!" His palm cradles his cheek. "Hey, can I ask you something kind of random? I have two—"

"Let's go, Brandy, it's hot!" Shannon calls out.

She whips her head around to find her sister tapping an impatient foot and miserably fanning her face with her purse.

"Coming!" Brandy shouts. She smiles and waves to the boy before she begins walking backward. A peace sign and a wink are thrown her way. The last thing she sees before she turns around is his lips mouthing the syllables of her name.

She speeds up to join Shannon, who has a knowing look on her face as they head toward the gate to leave the fair. Brandy just elbows her waist. She'll never hear the end of it if she reveals the conversation that was exchanged.

On her way home, she realizes she doesn't know the boy's name. It doesn't really matter; she probably won't ever see him again.

——

Later That Night

It's nearing midnight when Brandy and Shannon arrive at Ruby's Roller Disco. Brandy is fond of partaking in the disco scene, but this is the first time she's been to this place. Shannon had told her it's where everyone goes nowadays. However, she prefers what she's used to, which is the old, rundown nightclub in West Hollywood that she's sure is going out of business soon because their only customers are her and elderly couples.

Striding through the open doorway, strobe lights and sequined fabrics immediately set the lively tone. The dance floor is packed with bodies roller-skating and grooving to the music under the spinning disco ball. Brandy has changed into skintight bell bottoms and a front-knot floral blouse so she's comfortable while skating. As she glances around, she can't help but notice how different the energy is here from the place she usually goes to. There are more people her age and much more space to move. Also, better music, she hates to admit. They play "Hey Jude" about three times a night at the other disco. And yes, they play the entire seven minutes of it. It doesn't take long for her to develop a migraine by the time she leaves. She's positive she'll be going home with a migraine here as well since a smoking lounge is to her right, the smell of weed and cigarette smoke penetrating the enclosed area.

Shannon has jetted off somewhere to rent skates for them both. Brandy sees people either making out to the slow song playing or passing joints around even though they're supposed to be doing that strictly in the lounge. Everyone seems to be minding their own business in their own dome of happiness despite the raging world outside, polluted with protests and violence. If anything, dancing with strangers is an escape.

Her sister returns, holding two pairs of skates, and hands the pastel pink ones to Brandy. They quickly tie them and then roll out onto the dance floor as a sultry song ends. A guitar riff kicks in, and "Strange Kind of Woman" by Deep Purple booms through the speakers. The skaters begin coasting mid-tempo, finding a partner on the floor or dancing alone. Brandy's not a fan of rock songs, so she moves to the edge of the floor and waits for the next one. On the other hand, Shannon has already found a man to grind with. She looks like she just fell in love with him.

Just as Brandy starts swaying her hips to the chorus, two hands land on her shoulders from behind. She's about to turn around and smack whoever did it, but the warm palms leave just as fast as they came. Suddenly, a tall boy is standing before her. Not just any boy, though. It's the one from the fair. He's chewing bubblegum with a beaming smile like he just won the lottery. He's sporting a blue, sparkly two-piece outfit made of denim. The trousers are tight against his legs, and the matching long-sleeved shirt is tucked into them with only one button clasped out of the four. Flecks of glitter are spread on his exposed chest. His hair is pulled back into a low bun, and a few curly strands are left out to frame his face.

"You're the caramel corn boy," Brandy blurts over the music.

"And you're the girl with the bangin' fashion. I love a pair of bell bottoms." His eyes trail up and down her body. He then snaps his fingers twice as his face twists in thought. "It's Brandy, right?"

She smiles, watching the lights dance across his face. "Yes. I didn't catch your name at the fair."

"Harry Styles," he says while tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "I've never seen you around here before."

"This is my first time here, actually. I usually go to the Slug Bug nightclub in West Hollywood."

His nose wrinkles with a teasing grin. "Slug Bug? Isn't that where old people go?"

"No!" She scoffs. "Well, yes. It's just calmer there, you know? I really vibe with the place."

"I'm just pulling your leg." His hands rest on his hips as he looks around. "You here with anyone?"

He smacks his gum and raises his eyebrows like the smuggest man Brandy has ever seen. She usually hates people like that, but she finds it somehow attractive when he does it.

"I'm with my sister. She's probably making out with a guy she just met."

"Wow," he says with a laugh before glancing behind him. "Wanna dance with me? I can show you some stellar moves."

As the words leave his mouth, "Love Is Life" by Earth, Wind & Fire begins playing. Everyone starts skating slower as the lights turn from cool to warm tones.

"You don't have skates on, so dancing with me might be a little difficult."

"You underestimate me, Brandy," he drawls, leaning closer. "You're looking at the smoothest cat at Ruby's. Ask anyone."

Brandy juts her hip out and crosses her arms. "You talk a big game, Harry Styles. Show me what you got."

He blows a perfect bubble with his gum until it pops. "Turn your pretty self around, then."

Biting her lip, she spins around on her skates so her back is facing him. Harry puts his hands on her shoulders and guides her to the dance floor. He stops amid the dancing crowd, touching her waist and swaying her to the groovy bassline. Brandy uses the toe stop on one of her skates to keep from straying.

"Weak moves!" she tells him.

Harry's mouth lingers next to her ear. "Oh yeah? Stay here. I'll be right back."

Brandy feels the absence of his touch and looks behind her to see him striding over to the DJ booth. She decides to skate a lap around the floor as she waits. She peeks a glance at Shannon, and her assumptions are correct: her tongue is down a man's throat. Good for her.

Moments later, she hears the familiar opening of a song she can never escape — "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" by Looking Glass. The song came out a couple of months ago and has been at the top of the charts, playing on the radio constantly. Hearing her name in a hit song is a blessing and a curse. It's a great song, but she always gets teased whenever she mentions her name.

Brandy parks herself back in her spot and sees Harry shimmy over to her, making jazz hands with a grin plastered on his face that the turquoise lights motion over. He leans back and rolls his shoulders, singing along as he grooves to the horns.

He spreads his arms out when he reaches her and says, "I just bribed the DJ with a nifty fifty. Please tell me no one has done that for you before."

"How many other girls do you know named Brandy? This happens round the clock." She grimaces. "Well, not the bribing part. And did you say fifty dollars? Are you joshing me right now?"

Harry clicks his tongue. "Damn, I thought I was being clever. And yeah, fifty dollars. No biggie."

Brandy shakes her head in disbelief. "Okay, so your name is Harry. Has anyone ever played you "Harry Braff" by the Bee Gees?"

His arms drape over her shoulders as he sways with her. "My last name's not Braff."

"My name's Brandy, but I'm not a fine girl."

"I beg to differ," he says with no hesitation. He twirls her before asking, "What other artists do you listen to, Brandy?"

She squints one eye as she thinks. "Cher, obviously. Diana Ross, Barbara Streisand, Aretha Franklin... any female powerhouse, really."

"I think you're the love of my life."

"Oh, shut it." Brandy holds her palm to her warm cheek. "Why, do you like them too? Shannon, my sister, only listens to Tony Bennett, so I have no choice but to be the sibling with good taste in music."

"Is she sixty years old?" he teases with a laugh.

"That's what I say! She's trying to get me to see him at some opera house, and I keep making excuses not to go."

"My heart goes out to you in this challenging time. But to answer your question, yes, I listen to all those women. They're sick, so how could anyone not?"

"A lot of men are scared of successful women, especially in the music industry." Brandy shrugs and moves closer to him. "They're just talking a bunch of jive."

Harry nods. "Personally, I think Cher could kick them all to the curb. Men don't like that she knows what she wants."

"How have I not met you before? I think you might be the love of my life too."

His lips tick upwards. "What's your favorite Cher song?"

She grasps where her heart is at the impossible question. "Gosh, probably "Do You Believe in Magic" from her Backstage album. It's a cover, but it's way better than the original. What about you?"

He plays with the ends of her hair and replies, "Mine is "Lay Baby Lay." That one is so groovy."

"That's such a good one. I love the—" Brandy is cut off when someone suddenly gropes her ass as they fly past on skates. She freezes, blood rushing to her ears. The music drowns out as she tries to determine if what happened was real. She feels like she's underwater. The only sound is her heartbeat on high alert. She slowly looks at Harry, seeing his nostrils flare and his darkened eyes gaze over her shoulder with spine-chilling intensity. Seconds or minutes pass by, Brandy doesn't know for sure, before she witnesses his posture straighten and jaw tense.

When the man flies past again, Harry quickly brushes past her and grabs the collar of his shirt to stop him. The force is enough for him to stumble on his skates and tumble to the floor.

Harry crouches and sizes him up. "You have a death wish or something?" he threatens, chewing his gum faster.

"Chill out, dude," says the man as he tries to unleash himself from the tight grip. "You're acting crazy."

"Go take a look in a fuckin' mirror, you bogue piece of shit," Harry spits before standing back up and kicking the man's calf.

Brandy's hand is swiftly taken in his grasp as he leads her out the door of the disco. Her skates are still on, so she lets go and moves in front of him to glide backward on the pavement.

"I could've handled it," she mutters, letting the fresh air cool her skin.

Harry doesn't say anything as he pulls out his car keys. A beep echos, and Brandy turns her head to see the headlights of a yellow Ferrari flash. As he opens the passenger door for her, he asks, "Do you smoke?"

"Um, only weed. No cigarettes or anything like that."

He hums and gets in the driver's seat. "Wanna share a joint?"

She's thankful that what just happened isn't being dwelled on. She'd rather obliterate it from her mind. However, there's palpable tension severely present.

"Sure," Brandy says, getting in his car. "Wait, I have to return my skates before I forget."

Harry laughs to himself. "You really think they'll notice they're gone? Everyone who works there is higher than a kite."

"Oh," she breathes out. "Sorry."

He starts the car and rolls the windows down. "Want the first hit?"

"Is it laced?"

Shannon had taught her to always ask that. His eyebrows scrunch as he shakes his head genuinely. Brandy watches him lift his butt up on the seat, taking out a bronze lighter from his back pocket. The streetlights reflect off the metallic shine of the case as he opens it. He then opens the glovebox and shuffles through junk before finding a container of pre-rolled joints. His nimble fingers pick one up, bringing it to Brandy's lips. She holds it while Harry lights it, never breaking eye contact. She inhales and rolls her eyes back from the addictive smoke filtering through her body, letting it ooze down to her lungs before exhaling it out the window. Harry's eyes are now transfixed on her lips.

Brandy passes it to him and says, "This is a really nice car."

"Thanks, I stole it," he mumbles around the joint.

"What?!" she exclaims with a cough.

"Psyche. Relax, yeah? I bought this bad boy a couple of months ago."

"Don't tease me like that."

"How would you prefer me to tease you, then?"

"You're a chump!" She takes another hit before passing it to him again. "Listen, I should check on Shannon. If that guy who groped me is any telltale sign of the type of boys in there, I don't want her to be alone."

"Did you both drive here?" he asks before hollowing his cheeks and inhaling more smoke.

"No, we walked from our house. We live together on Brayton Avenue."

"I'll drive you guys home. I'm not letting you walk around past midnight."

Brandy stares at him. "You're not a serial killer, are you?"

Harry smirks, spreading his legs more comfortably. "If that were the case, I think they'd have my face plastered in every newspaper."

"Not unless you're clever," she mumbles under her breath. "I just met you, so I have a right to be cautious."

"I know, Brandy," he says with a laugh. "I respect that. Now go, I'll find some tunes to play."

She takes one last hit before she gets out of his car and skates toward the disco entrance. She feels the weed take effect rather quickly; Harry must get the good stuff.

Sliding across the dance floor, she quickly spots Shannon in her neon pink top. Brandy coasts up to her and takes her hand. "We're leaving!"

"What?!" Shannon replies with a frown. "Why? We just got here!"

"I don't feel safe. The boys in here are all weirdos."

"Did something happen?"

"No," Brandy lies. "C'mon, I'll go to that stupid Tony Bennett concert if we can just leave."

Shannon inhales deeply. "Fine. But Brandy Jean, you better keep your word, or else I'll kick you out of the house."

"I pinky promise. That boy from the fair earlier is going to drive us home. And before you say anything, I trust him."

"He's here?"

"Yes, Shannon, for goodness' sake. He's very kind." Brandy leads her away from the dance floor and toward the exit. "Also, don't worry about your skates. They won't notice."

They grab their shoes and skate out the door to Harry's awaiting car. His front door and the back one are open, and she can see him fiddling with the radio dial while holding the joint between his teeth.

Brandy shoves her sister in the backseat. "Harry, Shannon. Shannon, Harry," she introduces promptly.

He removes the joint and puts it out while glancing at the rear-view mirror. "How's it hangin'?"

"Hi! You must be the guy my sister is in love with."

Brandy twists back in the passenger seat and pinches Shannon's knee with the full intention of having it hurt. She then makes a gesture of cutting her throat before turning back around.

"Is that so?" Harry asks smugly.

"Ignore her. Pretend she isn't here. She's a hologram."

He just laughs and begins driving down the street. On the way, "Someday We'll Be Together" by Diana Ross & The Supremes plays on the radio. The windows are down, and the California breeze whips their hair around.

Eventually, he parks in their driveway after being given directions. Shannon pats his back as a thank you, then hops out of the car and stumbles through the front door, not even bothering to take off her stolen skates. The door shuts, and she turns on what seems like every single light in the house. She's high out of her mind.

Brandy faces Harry and says, "Thanks for the ride. I appreciate you not killing us."

She's joking, but crime in California has been at an all-time high lately, so she's technically not. She won't tell him that, though.

"'Course," he replies, taking his bun out and messing with his untamed hair. "Look, I'm sorry about that guy tonight. He shouldn't have touched you."

She sighs dejectedly. "Obviously, he shouldn't have touched me. It's fine. I'm glad you knocked some sense into him."

"It's not fine, Brandy," he insists with sincerity. "Don't downplay it. The prick should be in jail."

"I don't really want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay, we won't," he says gently. A few beats of silence pass before he raises his finger and takes something out of his pocket. "Change of topic. Remember at the fair when I was going to ask you a question, but your sister interrupted?"

Brandy squints at the small pieces of paper in his hand. "Yeah. Go ahead and ask me."

"So, here's the lowdown. The reason I talked to you in the first place was because I noticed your killer outfit. Then, when you said Cher was your inspiration, I remembered something I had bought a while ago. It's a crazy coincidence." He holds out two paper stubs before continuing, "I have tickets. I was so bummed when I thought I'd never see you again, but fate must be working its magic today."

"Tickets?" Brandy's eyebrows furrow. "For what?"

"For the best night of your life," he says with a boyish grin. "Would you like to come to The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour with me in Hollywood tomorrow night? None of my friends want to go with me because they think it's lame, but—"

"I thought those sold out in less than a day!" she interrupts, her mouth open in shock. "If you're razzing, Harry, it isn't funny."

"Brandy Baby. Hush for a second, yeah?"

Her heart skips a beat. "Don't fake me out, please. I would do almost anything to see her in person."

"Shh..." He rests his pointer finger against her lips. "I wouldn't joke about Cher, sunshine. The ticket is yours if you want it. Unless you want me to sit all by my lonesome."

She whispers, "You're serious?"

"Cross my heart," he says, making the gesture.

"I-I would love to, Harry. That's so thoughtful of you to ask. For you to ask me out of all people, I mean... I'm honored."

He plays with her moon pendant, looking up at her through his eyelashes. "You've got this energy about you—enigmatic, tantalizing. I think we'll have a wonderful time together."

"You think so? I might faint when I see her."

"I think it'll be life-changing, Brandy."

She can't reply because his palm places itself on her cheek, rendering her speechless. Before she can process his touch, his lips pucker and slowly meet with her opposite cheek. They're damp and cold but somehow spark a flame inside her body.

Harry leans back and stares at her parted mouth. It feels like minutes pass as she waits for his next move. His hand moves down to the side of her neck. He leans forward slightly and leaves the softest kiss to her pulse point. Butterflies break out in her stomach, her breathing becomes shallow, and her skin grows hot. Her knees almost give out when his teeth nip the spot he just planted his affection on.

"All right, I gotta skitty," he says, like nothing just happened. "I'll be waiting out here tomorrow at six-thirty on the dot. If you're not ready, you'll be in trouble. Time doesn't wait for Cher."

Brandy has to blink several times to bring herself back to reality. "Okay. Sounds good. Gosh, I'm so stoked. Wait, what do we wear? I need to plan an outfit. Agh!"

Harry looks her up and down. "Something foxy."

She smiles shyly and fidgets with the knot of her blouse. "I'll try my best. We both need sleep for tomorrow, so I'm going to go inside. Get home safe, Harry."

"Always do," he says while twirling his keys. "Peace out, Brandy. Dream with me tonight."

"I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep. And I expect you to wear something foxy as well."

He runs his tongue across his teeth with a wide smile before kissing two fingers and holding them out in a peace sign as he retreats to his car. He revs the engine and reverses out of the driveway, speeding off into the night.

Brandy can't help but agree that fate really has worked its magic today.

——

Tomorrow Evening

Brown silk and pearls galore. If Harry wants foxy, Brandy is giving it to him tenfold.

She carefully adjusts the thin straps of her mid-thigh dress in her vanity mirror. The single layer of ruffle that dips into her cleavage is tight against her shimmering skin. The long pearl necklace wraps twice around her neck and then drips down to her navel. White platform heels heighten her generously, and a matching leather purse completes her accessories for the evening.

She peeks at the Kit-Cat Klock on her bedroom wall--only one minute until Harry is supposed to arrive. She exhales a nervous breath and makes sure she looks presentable.

Bold mascara on top and bottom eyelashes—check. Glossy lips from her sister's coconut balm—check. Beige eyeshadow with winged eyeliner—check. Lacy black lingerie—check and check again.

She's gambling with her luck, but from what she's seen, Harry oozes sex appeal, and it'd be a shame if nothing happened tonight.

She hears a honk from outside her window as she sprays her citrus Dior perfume all over her body. He's here. Shutting off the lights, she practically skips down the staircase to open the front door. Shannon isn't home tonight, so she doesn't have to worry about her big sister's protectiveness about where she's going and who she's with. She walks down the concrete steps and toward his car. She hasn't even looked up yet, too focused on each step so she doesn't humiliate herself and trip over her clunky heels.

The sound of keys jingling has Brandy eventually gazing up at him, and she almost trips at the sight. There Harry stands, leaning against the door of his yellow Ferrari with his ankles crossed over one another. His hair is let loose, and the curls seem more defined than before. He wears a geometric-patterned suit with plum and olive colors, the pristine blazer left open over a black button-up. On his feet are dress shoes that are polished to the nines. However, the most noticeable part of his outfit is a single strand of pearls around his neck.

He must notice her staring because he laughs at the coincidence. "Seems like I've got a copycat on my hands," he says.

"I wouldn't have taken you for a man who owns pearls," Brandy admits as she stops in front of him. "My mistake."

He hums deeply. "I wouldn't have taken you for a woman that could just about drop me to my knees. My fuckin' mistake."

She smooths her palms over the lapels of his blazer. "You look very handsome, Harry. This suit could put Sonny to shame."

"Quite the compliment, doll. Dare I say that Cher has nothing on you tonight?"

She narrows her eyes at him. "You don't mean that. No one can look as good as Cher, and you know it."

"Doesn't matter because we" — he attempts to slide across the hood of his car but only gets halfway before he stumbles off slightly — "are going to have the best night of our lives. Got a cassette tape ready and some Cola for the drive there."

Brandy amusedly watches him open the door for her with a dramatic bow. She maneuvers around the car and sits in the plush passenger seat. He closes the door before jogging over to his side, but not before tugging up his pants, adjusting his collar, and teasing his hair in the side mirror. She laughs at his antics and gets comfortable in the leather seat of his Ferrari.

Once he's in, he turns the key in the ignition and presses a button on the radio to fast-forward the cassette tape already in the slot. He places a hand on the back of her headrest to reverse out and begins driving down Brayton Avenue toward Hollywood. It's about a thirty-minute drive to the CBS Television City venue where the show is being held. The seating time is at seven, so they should arrive on time.

The cassette stops at "Sentimental Lady" by Fleetwood Mac. Brandy grins at his choice.

"Know this one?" Harry asks while turning it up.

"I do."

He flicks his blinker on and smoothly merges onto the interstate. "Sing with me. Don't go shy on me now."

She brings her knees up on the seat. "I'll only sing if you do."

"Deal."

They drive down the boulevard and past the palm trees, singing along to the voice of Bob Welch the entire way there and drinking ice-cold bottles of Cola. Before they know it, the building comes into view, which is a black and white structure with a large parking lot in front that's packed. There's orange tape surrounding it for the show being held tonight, and hordes of cars coming in are being directed by security.

Brandy can feel the excitement and the buzz. It's something she wants to experience all the time.

"You ready for the night of your fuckin' life?" Harry asks, fixing his hair in the rear-view mirror.

"Fuck yes," Brandy says.

"Atta girl." He nudges her side. "You should swear more often. Life's more fun that way."

They eventually get out of the car and begin following the crowd, tickets in hands and heels clicking on the pavement. When they reach the door, they show their tickets and are ushered to the room where the show will be held. Brandy assumes they'll be part of the live studio audience tonight. She's never gone to a variety show before, and it's exhilarating.

Once they're situated in their seats, which are far back from the stage — but it doesn't matter since she's about to see Cher fucking Sarkisian — they wait for the show to start.

"Gonna faint yet?" Harry teases from beside her.

"I genuinely might."

"I'll pretend to also faint so it's not as embarrassing for you."

"Gee, thanks," Brandy mutters with a crooked smile.

Over the next half hour, they converse about what songs they think will be sung tonight or what they will joke about. Brandy can't get over how handsome Harry looks in a suit. She notices his eyes keep gazing down at her pearls, burning her cheeks. She feels so comfortable around him. There are no awkward pauses in conversation since they have so much in common.

When they're in the middle of talking about what the best flavor of soda is, the lights suddenly go down, making everyone gasp. It's starting!

A spotlight shines on the stage, music starts, and the screen lifts as Sonny and Cher walk out. The crowd goes wild, whooping and hollering for America's power couple.

Brandy could cry. Her idol is in front of her, dressed in a white dress with pastel polka dots of pink, orange, blue, and red. Sonny wears a matching button-up under his white suit as they take center stage, holding hands. They sing a short opening song and then introduce themselves before getting right into the jokes.

Throughout the show, Brandy and Harry laugh until their stomachs hurt. The dynamic between Sonny and Cher is unlike anything she's ever seen. The timing of the jokes, the chemistry, and the love are so magical to witness in real-time. After a hilarious and dirty joke, Brandy looks at Harry and sees him slap his knees in laughter, eye crinkles, and dimples on his gleeful face. It makes her swoon. The venue is cracking up, an infectious joy that only a room full of people gathered for the same thing could bring.

At the intermission, some people leave their seats to go out and smoke or talk to others. Brandy is admiring the stage when Harry's hand suddenly nudges hers on the armrest. His pinky strokes the back of her hand. Her eyes are glued forward, but she feels it. It's the only thing she can focus on.

His palm slowly wiggles under hers, and he interlaces their fingers together. They stay in that position until they have to clap when Sonny and Cher come back out.

At the end of the show, Cher comes out by herself to sing a song to close the night. The golden spotlight behind her sets the intimate ambiance. She walks to the middle of the stage, and Brandy is blown away by her ethereal beauty. She wears a pink, frilly dress and a matching flower clip in her sleek black hair.

"The Way of Love" starts, causing the room to go completely silent as she sings the bittersweet tune. Everyone's eyes are on her. Everything is still. It's like it's just her in the room.

During the song's crescendo, Brandy can feel Harry's gaze on hers as Cher's powerful voice belts for the audience. She doesn't want to look away, but when she feels him lean in, his musky cologne invades her senses as he squeezes her hand. A kiss to her temple is planted, blooming into heat that spreads over Brandy's face. She turns her head and whispers, "What was that for?"

His green eyes glimmer in the low light. "You just look really pretty," he whispers back. "And happy."

She smiles giddily and continues watching the performance. When the song ends, everyone gives a standing ovation as Cher bows and exits the stage. The cheers continue long after she's gone, and Brandy looks around the room in awe. She feels like she's in a dream. It went by so fast.

"Let's skitty," Harry says in her ear while clapping. "The traffic will be terrible getting out." Brandy nods and grabs her purse. Harry intertwines their fingers together and leads her towards the exit.

It's dark when they reach outside. People are talking loudly about the show and smoking by their vehicles. Harry starts his car once they're both in, turning the headlights on and tapping his finger along the steering wheel. A whole minute passes, and he still hasn't started driving. His eyes are zoned out on the dashboard.

Brandy waves a hand in front of his face. "You okay?"

He looks over at her almost shyly. "Would you want to stay at my place tonight? I've got plenty of room for us to chill."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'd regret saying goodnight to you so soon."

Brandy contemplates the offer. She hasn't stayed at a boy's house in a while but trusts Harry. She's had such an enjoyable time tonight that she'd hate herself if she just went home.

So, she says, "I'll stay with you. Do you have a phone? I'd need to call my sister before she calls the fuzz and they show up at your house."

"I have a wall phone in the shape of a heart if that's what you're asking."

"I wasn't, but that's cool," she replies, mesmerized by how his lips form around certain words. "You know what else is the shape of a heart?"

His elbow leans on her headrest. "Sock it to me."

Brandy smiles and places her forearm on the console. "Your lips."

Harry swallows, then asks, "What else about my lips?"

"They're the color of strawberry taffy. Not sure if they would taste like it, though."

"You know what they say, right?" He glimpses at her mouth. "There's only one way to find out."

Brandy doesn't know whose lips crash into whose first, but it doesn't matter because they taste better than any sweet in a candy shop. Their lips part with a wet pop, and Harry mimics the noise with his mouth. Brandy giggles and kisses his bottom lip hungrily.

"Coconut," he murmurs, twirling a strand of her hair around his pointer finger. "Far out."

Some glossiness from her lips has transferred to his own, so Brandy wipes it off with her thumb. "Let's head back before it ends up in other places," she suggests boldly.

Harry gives her an open-mouthed smile, then kisses her cheekbone before palming the wheel and reversing out of the parking spot. During the drive, he shows her new cassette tapes he bought recently, gushing facts about the artists and pointing out the guitars used in certain songs. Brandy listens the entire time with intrigue in her eyes.

After thirty minutes, Harry pulls into his driveway. His house is much smaller than expected for someone with decent money. It's a yellow ranch-style home with a collection of neatly trimmed landscaping, including shrubs and a single sycamore tree. The garage door is see-through, and the house's white trim pops compared to the dull neighboring houses on the street.

Brandy's trance is broken when Harry opens the passenger door for her and holds out his hand. She takes it. He guides her to his front door, lets her step past the threshold first, then flicks the lights on.

"I'm gonna change really quick," he murmurs in her ear before brushing past her and strolling into another room.

Brandy takes the opportunity to observe his multifarious decor and interior design. The copper-colored carpet in the living room feels cloud-like beneath her feet as she wanders around. Assorted sizes of orange, yellow, and white low tables are placed around the conversation pit, and potted ferns contrast nicely with the overload of orange. A yellow leather couch is embedded around the pit, and a table in the middle has a vase of dahlias and a collection of glass bongs. An inlet in the farthest wooden wall holds a box television and a piano. Drawers, books, and a radio surround the remaining space.

To her left is his kitchen. A small island with a basket of bananas is surrounded by oak cabinets. More plants are either on the refrigerator or hanging from the ceiling. Everything is organized. Everything is placed with purpose. Everything is Harry.

Speaking of the devil, Harry returns wearing what looks like pajamas, and Brandy laughs at their luxuriousness. He has on a red, floral check-print jacket and matching pants that could be straight from a fashion catalog for all she knows. He's shirtless underneath, nothing but a cross necklace on his chest, and his feet are bare as he walks toward her.

"It looks like you're just wearing another suit."

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in. "It's totally a suit."

She snorts. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Harry flops backward onto the couch and rests his hands on his stomach. Brandy thinks it's the most endearing thing in the world.

"Stop starin' at my paunch," he says with a grin. "Can't help that Cola makes me bloated."

She sits next to him. "It's cute. The butterfly tattoo is a nice touch to your paunch."

"Yeah? Is that a kink of yours? My paunch?"

"Let's stop saying paunch. And no, you dork, it's not a kink. I'm just not a fan of boys with rock-hard abs and steroid-pumped biceps. I like a natural body."

His knuckle runs along the exposed part of her thigh. "Same here."

Her skin heats under his touch. "Can we smoke weed together again? Let's end the night on a high."

"Oh, she's a comedian now?" Harry groans, gets up, and walks to a table in the corner of the room. "You take a girl to one comedy show, and suddenly she thinks she's Joan Rivers," he mutters teasingly.

"Get bent! I'm funnier than you; just admit it."

He cackles, and she turns to watch him put a vinyl on his portable record player. She notices that his hair has transitioned into a middle part sometime throughout the night.

"Chain of Fools" by Aretha Franklin crackles through. He walks back to her with a joint and a lighter, then boldly straddles her thighs on the couch. Brandy just about dies.

Harry lights the end of the joint and asks, "Do you know how to shotgun kiss?"

Her eyes widen. "I know what it is, but I've never done it. I've always wanted to try."

"It'll rock your world." He shifts on her lap to get more comfortable, and she can thoroughly feel his cock through his pants. He must not wear underwear to bed. It should disgust her, but her mind is too frazzled at their current position to care.

Harry takes a hit from the joint, keeps the smoke in his mouth, and then cradles her cheeks with gentle palms. He leans in and places his thumb on Brandy's bottom lip to open her mouth, resting it on the bottom row of her teeth. The smoke releases down her throat. The feeling is euphoric, intimate, and sensual.

She breathes out, the residual smoke blowing in his face, and she falls into a trance, looking at his lustrous lips. "I thought you're supposed to kiss someone when you do it."

He twists her pearls around his finger and gives them a light tug. "C'mere, baby. I'll kiss you all you want."

His hand holds her head as he guides her lips to his. They connect, and it's like ecstasy unfurls in her heart and stomach. With unhurried movements from the weed, their lips move against each other like they're the last drop of water in the desert oasis.

Harry's tongue slips into her mouth, so she sucks on it tenderly as her hands linger on his waist. He's still straddling her, his bulge pressing against her. His free hand holds the joint away from her as they move their lips until they're numb and swollen. Brandy eventually breaks from the kiss to catch her breath, leaving Harry whimpering helplessly.

"Can I please touch you?" he begs with bruising kisses to her neck. "Tell me what you like. What makes you feel good. Where it feels good."

"You can touch me."

"Where? Tell me where it aches, honey."

Brandy lets out a soft and short whine. "Everywhere."

"Where do you need my hands? Talk to me."

"My neck. It feels good when I'm choked." Her eyes snap open at what she just exposed. She immediately backtracks by adding, "But we don't have to do it if you're not—"

"Don't move," Harry interrupts, springing off her and dashing to his bedroom.

Brandy can hear shuffling and drawers opening and closing. She toes her heels off as she waits, then stands up to roam to his record player. She sifts through the stray vinyl on the table, eventually removing the Aretha Franklin disc and replacing it with an Ike & Tina Turner one. She meticulously places the needle so it plays "Come Together."

Brandy is admiring his wall art when she feels something cold against her arm. She looks down and has to do a double-take at what she sees. Is that a dog collar?

"I'm not into barking like a dog for a man," she says, head completely empty while gazing at the black leather.

He kisses the pearls at the back of her neck. "This isn't for you, Brandy. You've already got a choking toy."

He tosses the collar onto the nearest table, then reaches around her front to wrap her pearls around his hand until they're tight and restrained. His other hand fidgets with the zipper at the back of her dress.

"May I?" he asks.

What she's wearing underneath will surely come as a surprise to him. She nods, eyes rolling back from the pressure. His fingers trail along her upper spine until they reach the zipper. Brandy can feel his breath on her skin as he slowly pulls it down until the material loosens against her body.

"Fuckin' hell." Harry nudges his nose into the side of her neck and moans softly. "What's this, hmm? Been hiding this from me?"

Brandy feels him bring the straps of her dress down her arms. She turns around, Harry's grip on her pearls leaving, and she shimmies the silk material down her legs the rest of the way while keeping eye contact with him. The lace lingerie is revealed, and Harry's eyes are glued to her chest like a teenage boy. He walks backward until he bumps into the table, bending down and blindly grabbing the collar from behind him.

"Put it on me," he says breathlessly like he can't get air in his lungs.

She takes it as Harry turns around, taking off his own pearls so she can fasten them around his neck. He holds his hair up so Brandy can loop the collar belt through the clip. She doesn't tighten it too much, but just enough so a pleasurable pressure should be felt.

"Good?"

He hums. "Perfect." They walk down into the conversation pit. Brandy waits for Harry to initiate something.

"Lie down for me, love," he says while he drapes his pearls over the television. "Legs spread."

She bites her lip to hold back an excited smile, then lies on the couch, obeying his command by spreading her thighs. Harry takes off his jacket and sits on his knees between her legs. His fingers run along the lace detailing of her lingerie.

Brandy squirms from the tension and whines. "Touch me. You said you would."

"Patience. You said I can touch your neck. I've got two hands, baby, so where do you want the other one?"

She palms her core and moans at the sensitivity. She's wet already. "Here. I need you right here."

His fingers move the fabric covering where she needs him, circling his fingers in her wetness and pushing them into her. Her back arches, and she reaches her hand around the back of his neck to tug the collar's strap. His head tilts back, his mouth parting from the choking sensation.

Harry pulls her strand of pearls as two of his fingers begin slowly thrusting in and out of her. She breathlessly moans, her airway restricted. She moves her hand to squeeze his cock through his pants.

"Don't do that. You'll make me lose it right now."

"Make me come. Please, Harry."

His fingers thrust faster and curl skillfully to hit all of her sensitive spots, his thumb pressing down on her clit to bring her to her climax. He balances on his knees to get more leverage, his necklace dangling over her body. Brandy grabs onto his wrist, which flicks with each movement.

"You're fuckin' beautiful under me and falling apart like this."

"I'm almost there. Keep going. I feel it."

He grinds against the couch. "Where do you feel it?"

Her hand presses against her lower stomach. Harry removes his hold on her pearls and places his hand over hers. "Yeah? Feel that pressure? I'll make it feel better, I promise."

He moves his mouth down to lick along her entrance, and that's what does it for Brandy. She cries out as the pressure pops like a needle in a balloon. She comes around his fingers, holding onto his bulging, tattooed arms.

"Harry... oh, it feels amazing."

He removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth to taste her arousal. "You did so good for me."

Once Brandy winds down from her orgasm, Harry gets up and walks to his kitchen. She hears the faucet turn on, and he returns with a damp towel soon after. He wipes her with the lukewarm fabric, then sets it on her stomach for a bit, the warmth feeling heavenly on the slight pressure still there.

"Come to bed with me," he says lowly, removing the collar. "We can smoke and giggle until we crash."

"Don't you want me to take care of your... you know, boner?"

He shrugs. "Sometimes it feels good if I let it ache until morning. Plus, I'm high and drank, like, a gallon of Cola, so I don't think it'd taste any good."

"Fair point." Brandy reaches out her arms. "Take me away, Casanova."

He laughs and pulls her up, then quickly grabs his lighter and another joint before guiding her to his room down the hallway. His bedroom is simple, with several shelves and drawers along every wall. His bed is low to the ground and stays with the house's orange theme.

Harry climbs into his bed and points to his dresser. "You can wear one of my shirts if you'd like."

Brandy opens it and searches through endless ripped and faded T-shirts. She removes her lingerie and grabs a Blue Öyster Cult tour shirt to put on. She then crawls onto the memory foam mattress.

"Did you know," Harry says slowly, "I'm fuckin' stellar at doing a Cher impression?"

Brandy notices the weed he smoked throughout the night, which makes him talk more deeply and languidly than he already does. "Say psyche right now."

His head on the pillow whips toward her like a meerkat. "No joke. Give me a song to sing with her voice."

He's totally bullshitting, but she goes along with it anyway because his being high is incredibly endearing.

"Okay, do "All I Ever Need Is You"." She flips on her side to face him. "Let me sing Sonny's parts. I bet I could do his voice."

"You go first. I don't want to be outshined."

Brandy takes a quick hit of the joint before clearing her throat. "Honey, all I ever need is you," she sings, trying to imitate Sonny's unique voice. She feels like she's floating from the weed in her system, and she's never felt happier.

"Winters come, and they go," Harry joins in loudly, and Brandy loses it as his terrible impression. "And we watch the melting snow!" He belts the lyrics with one hand on his chest and one in the air. "Sure as summer—" He chokes on the last word and eventually gives in to the giggles. They laugh hysterically until tears brim their red-rimmed eyes, and their sides cramp.

Brandy looks over at him, finding his nose scrunched up. His laughs come out silently, and she's absolutely enamored.

Once their laughter dies, she sighs happily and rolls onto his chest. "That was gnarly and not in a good way."

"Like you were any better."

She sticks the joint between his teeth. "We'd make an awful tribute band."

"You'd have to dress up as Sonny," he mumbles around it. "Can you grow a mustache?"

"Better than you could. Can you pull off Cher's wardrobe?"

He removes the joint and exhales smoke up toward the ceiling. "I think I could wear a dress, yeah. But I don't think it would flatter my paunch very well."

"Here we go again," she says lightheartedly. "'Bring back paunchy men' should be your new advocacy."

He laughs, pinches her hip, and then reaches over to shut the lamp off. After stamping the joint out in the ashtray on his nightstand, Brandy feels his arms wrap around her body. She nuzzles further into his cozy chest, feeling his long curls tickle her cheek.

Pure ecstasy courses through her bloodstream. The weed heightens every touch, every graze of his fingers, and every breath he takes from under her. Suddenly, his lips move to her ear, soft puffs warming her skin as his legs tangle with hers. He murmurs in a sleep-laden voice, "Dream with me, Brandy Baby."

She stays silent and sinks deeper into his embrace. Little does he know that every second spent with him so far has already felt like a dream that no psychedelic could ever bring about.

——

The Morning After

Soft, melancholic piano notes wake Brandy from a deep slumber. It's a haunting composition with drawn-out notes that echo into the bedroom, where she lies under the warm sheets alone. Harry must be the one supplying the morning serenade.

She's too drowsy to place her finger on what the song is, so she stretches her sore legs and swings them over the edge of the bed to follow the wistful melody. It leads her to his living room, the rising sun casting golden light beams on the carpet. Dust particles float, and birds chirp outside the open windows. Soon enough, she finds Harry sitting in the glow of the dawn, his back turned to her as his nimble fingers run along the glossy piano keys like it's second nature to him. The brass pedals groan and creak under his sock-clad feet, his head bobbing to each note that beautifully flows out. He's wearing a grey turtleneck sweater tucked into black slacks, and his hair is pulled into a loose bun.

He pats the wooden stool beside him, sensing her lingering presence. "Sorry I couldn't give you a morning snuggle. I woke up with weed brain."

Brandy walks over and sits next to him. "What are you playing?" she asks, watching him press down on the keys.

""Crescent Noon" by the Carpenters. It reminds me of a mournful autumn."

"It was a nice sound to wake up to. You're very talented."

"Thanks," he says with a faint smile. "I always try to play a little before I go to work. It starts my day off right."

It hits Brandy that she really doesn't know much about his personal life. "Where do you work?"

He stops playing, mumbling, "It's lame."

"Tell me," she encourages, sticking her cold hands under her bare thighs. "I won't judge. I'm a lousy waitress if it makes you feel any better."

He sighs and shuts the piano lid. "It's volunteer work, more like. I read books to the kids at the public library on Victoria Street."

She gasps. "That's awesome! I might have to stop by sometime."

"My friends always tease me for it," he says, his ears flushing pink. "But I really like it there. Seeing their faces light up when I sit them on my lap or do a funny voice makes my day sunnier."

"I'm sure it makes their day sunnier too. What time do you have to leave?"

Harry glances at the ticking clock on the wall. "I need to be there at nine, so in about five minutes."

"Oh," Brandy whispers, slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry for waking up so late. I'll let you get ready."

"Uh, I can take you home on my way."

"Sure thing. I'll go grab my stuff."

While roaming his house, she picks up her dress, lingerie, heels, pearls, and purse. Once everything is messily balanced in her arms, she sees Harry holding the front door open. He has on dress shoes that tap almost impatiently as he waits for her.

Something feels off. Brandy swallows a lump of trepidation and walks out the door, ignoring the bizarre energy shift. Harry shuts it behind her and quickly slides into the driver's seat of his convertible as she gets in the passenger seat. He starts the engine, then turns on a random radio station before driving toward her house, which she's surprised he remembers. "My Cherie Amour" by Stevie Wonder plays quietly. The drive is otherwise silent, and it doesn't feel right.

Seven minutes pass before he pulls into her driveway. The sun peeks over her roof, making the pavement sparkle. Shannon's car is parked in the garage. Hummingbirds flutter their wings by the trumpet honeysuckles lining the sidewalk. All these things should bring her comfort, but she feels nauseous instead.

Harry wipes his palms against his slacks, fiddles with the air vents, scratches his head, then shatters the silence.

"I think this should be a one-time thing."

Well, that's definitely not the first thing she wanted to come out of his mouth.

He clears his throat and continues, "I'm not really a relationship guy, you know? I don't think I could provide that for you if that's what you're looking for."

Not a relationship guy. Didn't he basically ask her out on a date? Selflessly granted her the best night of her life? Ignited her skin with bruising kisses and touches? Apologized for not snuggling with her in the morning? Did she get the completely wrong idea?

"Sorry, I'm a little confused," Brandy says, shaking her head.

Harry lets the car run, its rumbling engine filling the dreadful atmosphere. "You're not the problem. I should've told you sooner, and that's my fault." He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "I like being around you, yeah? It's just... well, I'm in my early twenties, so I want to coast through life for a bit before I get into anything serious. Figure shit out. Figure myself out."

The unexpectedness of it all makes her clam up. A surge of humiliation sears her throat when she says, "Oh, okay. That makes sense. I understand where you're coming from." She's saying everything she doesn't want to, but the words keep spewing. "I had fun last night. Thank you for letting me experience Hollywood."

"Thanks for catching my drift. The last thing I want to do is lead you on."

"You didn't." He sort of did. "Timing doesn't work out sometimes." It felt like it was working perfectly fine.

"Timing's a bitch," he says, knocking on his dashboard. He then checks the radio clock and sighs. "I should go before I'm late."

Brandy swallows roughly. There's no point in trying to change his mind. She won't hold him back from living how he wants to. But why is he being so nonchalant about it? She feels like she's being flung to the side without warning or care. It almost feels like last night meant nothing to him.

After nodding and unbuckling her seatbelt, she says, "Well, I hope everything runs smoothly for you. With the volunteer stuff and all."

"Appreciate it," Harry replies, sticking a piece of gum between his teeth. "Hey, what restaurant do you waitress at?"

This boy is giving her whiplash.

"Um, Cheyenne's Café. It's on Cudahy Street, right off Pacific Boulevard. Kind of a hole-in-the-wall place."

"I might have to stop by sometime," he says with a grin, repeating her words from earlier.

Brandy suddenly feels annoyed at his apathy for her heart, which he ruthlessly stomped on and crushed, so she opens the car door and steps out before her emotions get the best of her. Boys disappoint her and only keep their word for a short time. She doubts Harry will visit; he's probably letting her down easily.

"Maybe you should," she says, a hidden bite in her tone. "They have mouthwatering banana waffles."

He closes his eyes and groans deliciously. "That's it. You've convinced me."

She plasters on a fake smile and gathers her belongings. "Goodbye, Harry. Enjoy the sunshine today."

Harry's hand lightly grasps her wrist as she's about to walk around his car to reach the front door. Consecutively, there is a stroke of his thumb, a skip to her pulse, and another crack in her breaking heart.

"See you later, Brandy."

One last stroke is given before she reluctantly lets go and opens the door. She slams it shut, making the entire house rattle, then throws her things onto the nearest flat surface. Her sister is sitting at the kitchen table reading the daily newspaper and drinking a tall glass of orange juice. Brandy huffs, remembering she forgot to call her last night. Shannon glances up at the sound and leisurely takes in her appearance. At that moment, she realizes Harry's shirt is still on her body. It makes her bottom lip tremble.

"Where were you?" Shannon asks warily. "Why do you look like you're going to cry?"

Brandy covers her face with her hands and lets out a wretched sob. "Harry…"

Shannon immediately envelops her in her arms. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Remember the boy that drove us home? I stayed the night at his house, but he said it should only be a one-time thing because he's not looking for a relationship right now, and I pretended that I was okay with it." She sniffles against Shannon's chest. "But I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it, but I-I got scared because he looked so sure of himself. I didn't want to force him to fall in love with me."

Shannon sways her consolingly. "Why didn't he say something before he took you to his place?"

Brandy shrugs. "I don't know, Shan. Boys are dumb."

"That's very true. Why don't you take a shower while I fix breakfast for you? Let's talk more about it later."

"Okay," she mumbles, wiping her useless tears away and moping to her bedroom. She curls into bed and pulls the covers over her entire body. She can't bring herself to take a shower. Her throat and head hurt. Her heart aches.

It's impossible not to think about yesterday and how divine everything was. How Harry had kissed her with his strawberry taffy lips, touched her with sheer desire, and made her feel like she was floating through a dream. The words he spoke were enthralling. The music he played her bared his soul. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed could make just about anyone fall head over heels. How could she forget the moment he looked at her in the venue with an expression she thought could be love?

Brandy throws the duvet aside and sulks over to the record player on her dresser. Cher's Gypsys, Tramps & Thieves is already placed on the platter from when she got dolled up last night. She carefully adjusts the tonearm and crawls back into bed.

The first track begins, and it can't erase her sorrows since it's the same song Cher sang to the crowd.

Damn those lyrics that will forever remind her of Harry. Damn his ravishing smile, his alluring voice, and his sugarcoated ways of stringing her along.

Above all, damn their fate. The course of fate can be a cruel thief. It can be by chance or by choice. It can come when least expected and give a person the right feeling at the wrong time.

Brandy realizes fate is like that Ferris wheel she rode. It led her on with its appeal and took her for a spin. Then, before she could even soak up the feeling, it stopped. It let her off, and she never reached what she yearned for the entire way around.

Perhaps that's just the way of love.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x oc #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles #the way of love #adore-laur

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saltpepperbeard · 8 months

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I was tagged by the lovely @naranjapetrificada to share my Thoughts and Speculations for the timeline of OFMD S2, ie "eight predictions for eight episodes." Thank you, and sorry for the late response; I was facing The Horrors (derogatory). But now that the panic that is OFMD S2 being almost 3 weeks away is setting in, WHAT BETTER TIME TO RAMBLE ON AND ON ABOUT IT HSDJKS~

girlies (gn) there is honestly so much to account for. there are so many different elements that we've seen through promotional material and spoilers that i'm just like,,, how is this all going to Fit. BUT LET'S TRY OUR BEST SHALL WE LMAO-

((also hi hello this is ✨Jodi From the Future✨ coming in after typing up this entire thing, and realizing it was only supposed to be like,,, eight ideas for what's going to happen in the eight episodes. meanwhile my bitchass did a full blown prediction for what's going to go down timeline wise PFFF. BUT SURE YEAH THAT COUNTS AS ONLY EIGHT RIGHT? IT'S FINE,,,))

Episode 1. I think this is going to be more of an establishing episode. Establishing where the characters are, what they're up to, what challenges they're facing, etc etc. So, it'll likely focus on Stede's yearning, and Ed's heartbreak. I wouldn't be surprised if the "he's actually a good guy," the bottle kiss, and the wedding crash are all in this episode. And maybe it'll end off with the wedding topppersjfskfhsjklklbf,,,

Episode 2. An episode to build off of the motivations established in one, and also to move the characters a bit closer to each other. Maybe this is the episode where Stede tries to employ the help of the Red Flag Fleet, because they need a better mode of transportation to catch up with the Revenge. And maybe if that doesn't go too hot lol, maybe the storm will be towards the end of this episode to beach the Revenge somewhere. Though, I feel like that's quite a dramatic event, and would make more sense to occur a bit deeper in the season? But based on the rest of my thoughts/theories, it simply Does Not Fit SJKDS. So for now, I'm treating it as like, a divine intervention type beat where the crews are being beckoned closer together.

Episode 3. For SOME reason, be it just crossed fingies or the consideration of parallels or both, I have a feeling that Stede and Ed are going to reunite at the end of this episode. I think taking the episode release schedule into consideration also points to a reunion, because then we'd be left to sit with that for a week l m a o. I feel like we'll get to see all the intense emotions of them seeing each other for the first time in months, and their subsequent awe/reactions, before it abruptly cuts off as a cliffhanger. As for the actual BODY of the episode?? MAYBE the storm could also fit here in the middle somewhere, with the same sort of "the universe is wanting these people to be back together so lol STORM BE UPON YE."

Episode 4. The aftermath of the reunion. You get to see the proper reactions, ie Ed probably being dismissive and Stede trying to remain warm/enthusiastic. And then allllll the characterization that comes along with that, ie Stede's crew being like "I told you so" or Izzy being like "oh my FOOKIN god edward was throwing knives around and crying and making us crash weddings and now stede actually shows up and tHIS IS WHERE WE'RE AT???" So maybe, MAYBE, this is where Izzy steps in and tries to better things a bit by helping Stede, because he's Sick and Tired HSDJKLS. Like, this'll be the Fanfiction Episode™.

Episode 5. Wouldn't it be something if the party was in this episode to mirror the 5th episode in season 1 l m a o. And forgive me, because my theories towards Certain Events have seesawed ALL OVER THE PLACE HSDKJS. But hear me out hear me out. So episode 5 starts off as a sort of continuation from episode 4, and maybe Stede is trying to work himself up to better woo Ed. Like he's pulling out all the stops, which is why he's trying to train and better himself and do whatever he can.

But then MAYBE he has some sort of realization that like...Edward, his Ed, was so so excited to go to the Fancy Party Full of Hoity Toity People™. And was so so happy to dress up and be beautiful and feel himself. And so he decides to host a similar party on the Revenge for everyone, because not only would it be good for morale, but good for his beloved. So, they do, and everyone is Hype. Wee John gets to dress in drag, Roach gets to fire canons, etc etc. It's all so full of color and life and happiness again.

And, of course, maybe Ed and Stede have a Moment of some sort. I'm really really praying for a "Ed...May I have this dance?" type thing, followed by them having their first quiet and romantic moment of the season. And you can SEE some of Ed's walls coming down, even though he'd probably still be hesitant/tense. Maybe they even have an almost kiss type moment jUST LIKE IN THE PREVIOUS 5TH EPISODE. Or maybe the hhngfngmfngdmfd pearls,,,

...But then EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN THE FIRE NATION ATTACKED SJDKSHKLDS. Because that ONE shot in the trailer where Wee John is shown in drag looks like a party, but also a party that was crashed by very unwelcome guests. So like, wouldn't it be something if the almost kiss moment was interrupted by some sort of enemy, and everything rapidly goes downhill.

Everyone gets bound, Stede gets tied to the mast, and...what if THIS is where Ed is thrown overboard. What if the enemy is someone who has it out for pirates, and very much has it out for Blackbeard in particular. So, they tie up Ed and throw him overboard in a murder/execution attempt, and Stede has to watch :))). Something something a parallel to Ed having to watch Stede get almost killed NUMEROUS times hskdjs. The turns have tabled.

And maybe there's a desperate moment between them right before Ed's thrown over. Maybe a desperate lock of their eyes, a desperate scream from Stede, a desperate declaration of feelings, even. And then the episode ends with Ed in the water.

Episode 6. The aftermath of episode 5 ofc. Stede and the crew have been captured, or maybe even just Stede has been captured. And Ed washes up on the beach alone.

I think this'll be where Ed sort of grounds himself and comes back into himself, because the gravity of the situation will hit him particularly hard. Like, he FELT things again. He felt BEAUTIFUL again. He felt DESIRED again. He felt like HIMSELF again. And didn't act upon it, and got separated from his sweetheart before he could. I wouldn't be surprised if he subsequently fights ghosts/demons of his own here, ie Hornigold or his father or individuals equivalent. So like, the barrel/clobbering shot is him fighting against his past type deal.

And then MEANWHILE, I think this is where Stede's going to get tortured. The darlings are both going to Go Through It in this episode.

AND, the more I look at that one shot of Ed in the woods with someone present with him, the more I'm like...IS that Wee John??? Or is that someone else? Because it would be something if the Revenge Crew was left alone, and only Stede was captured for his crimes against the Navy (murders and the escape from the academy). And then they somehow try and scramble/get help/link back up with the Red Fleet/find Ed themselves.

So, that one shot could have been them doing just that, and catching him up to speed after all that's happened. And maybe there's some sort of pivotal forgiveness moment/apology moment between Ed and the crew there too.

And then everyone's like...holy shit we need to go and KICK ASS ALL TOGETHER.

Episode 7. ✨The Battle Episode✨. Aka everyone kicking ass all together HSKDLS. Everyone uniting against a common enemy and battling it the hell out. There could be naval battles out at sea between the Red Flag Fleet, the Revenge, and the Navy, and then battles on foot on the black sand beach.

Something something wherever the enemy took Stede to torture him was also the same island Ed ended up on PFFFF. So, something something Stede somehow gets free, be it through his own devices or his crew, and they all start battling it out.

And ED is of course in the fray as well, especially pissed if he hears what they did to Stede.

Annnnd it leads to yet another reunion, ie them fighting to each other on the black sands. And I really, really, REALLY cannot express how badly I want them to fight to each other just to strongly kiss the moment they make it.

Annnnnndd then okay lol the CAVE. I'm thinking that one or both of them sustain injuries, or maybe just have to go and hide out somewhere since they're both VERY much wanted by the enemy. Something something them having to tend to each other and also having emotional conversations/talking it through, mixed in with more kisses.

Annnnnnnnnnd something something they all manage to fend off the enemy...*Buttons voice* FER NOW...

Episode 8. I think this episode would start off very unassuming. Like, the crews have won their battle, and go on to celebrate/recuperate. Maybe this is where they end up at Jackie's, and Ed gets to do those Soft Eyes, because he feels better and safe and IN LOVE. And so maybe things will be a bit easy-going and romantic to start off with.

Remember the friggin lighthouse. Something something "major romantic moment between two key characters." Something something WHAT IF ED AND STEDE HAVE A MAJOR ROMANTIC MOMENT IN THE LIGHTHOUSE HERE. would they be insane enough to do a proposal or something equivalent idk. i think i wouldn't make it to the other side if that was the case.

and if it's not a full proposal, even a deep declaration like stede going "i'll be by your side forever. if you'll have me" would just be hsfkshfskljkladhalkjhdfklgd.

But of course lol, OF COURSE, SILLY LITTLE PIRATE SHOW WILL PROBABLY END WITH SILLY LITTLE PIRATE PROBLEMS.

So, I would not be surprised if some SHIT goes down at the end of episode 8, maybe even leaving Ed and Stede separated again. Or at least putting them up against very very high stakes.

...

*GASPS FOR AIR* LMAO. I know I'm not even accounting for everything we've seen here. I know there are still elements like LUCIUS, the other couples, Anne and Mary, and some other little tidbits we've seen. But this is just what my brain Cooked. THIS IS WHERE WE ENDED UP SHDJKS.

And it'll be very very interesting to see what actually happens.

SEE Y'ALL IN LESS THAN A MONTH HSDJKS

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