The streets were free and the sun was shining, and Harry, although pressed for time, enjoyed the fact that he didn't have to stand in the rain later that day. He hummed along to Katy Perry's 'I Kissed a Girl' while he was checking the sat-nav. According to the little monitor next to the steering wheel it would take him a good half-hour to arrive at his destination which made him use a nasty word that seldom escaped his mouth.

Before he could think about the limited parking space and the number of people that must have already been there however, a silver Ford rushed past his car. The opened windows of the Ford carried a harsh sound to Harry which clashed with the pop music emitting from his speakers, and he was sure the driver was a few miles per hour over the speed limit.
As he wasn't on duty though, he didn't make an effort to follow and reprimand them.

Since only a few yards down the street they were both stopped by a red-light Harry wouldn't have had to follow them anyway, as he was sure the driver wasn't foolish enough to run over it when they passed a cop car just seconds before. On duty or not, Harry was still driving in his police car wearing his uniform.

His car came to a stop right next to theirs and he glanced over, and what he saw made him grin widely. He saw a woman drumming her steering wheel while mouthing the lyrics and wildly flinging her head back and forth. Her shoulder length hair was flying around her head and when it was out of her face momentarily Harry recognised the young woman in the car next to his. And upon this discovery he laughed loudly and shook his head in disbelieving amusement.

Tamsyn Meyers, unofficial president of the unofficial club of stiff and humourless agents at the FBI. Always strictly keeping to work – no after-work socialising. At least that's what he's heard from some of his acquaintances at the FBI, and she's proven them right the few times Harry had the pleasure of working on a case with her. Yet he's always had too much fun trying to break through that thick wall of hers to be put off by her rolling eyes and sometimes snide comments.

Seeing her now, going full on metal band-like headbanging made it almost impossible to bring this Tamsyn together with the one he got to know over the years.
Harry heard the thumping of the beat that indicated a build-up and once the beat dropped she gave it her all, all the while he couldn't keep the laugh in and waited for her to realise that he was watching her.

She didn't. Soon after, the lights turned green and she zoomed off. Again, probably quite a bit over the speed limit.
Still chuckling to himself and shaking his head slightly he pressed the pedal down, and while he was driving along he prayed he would find a parking spot right away.

Of course, he wasn't that lucky. He had to drive around the block three times before finally spotting a free parking space. Harry rushed to the church and walked on tiptoes into the beautifully decorated indoors. Being already ten minutes late he wasn't sure whether he'd made it still on time or if the bride was already walking down the aisle. But peeking around the corner he saw that Michael Sanders was standing there at the altar. Alone with the priest. Thus, the next thing he needed to find was a seat. The church was packed, so there were only a few empty seats on the long benches right in the back of the building. This meant he would sit close to the entrance and exit which was great as he needed to head out a bit earlier anyway. Having a place to sit in the back would ensure that his getting up wouldn't disturb all the guests closer to the altar.

Deciding on the one bench where the last available space was the most outer one – even easier exit – he turned left. He could have asked if the seat was taken but as he'd recognised the woman who was rummaging through her purse next to her as being Tamsyn Meyers, he was quite positive that it was safe to sit there. Her racy style of driving suddenly made sense. She had been late too – but, unlike him, apparently made it on time.

She didn't look up when Harry sat down. Instead she kept on looking for something in her handbag, and Harry decided on making himself known.

„Didn't peg you for a Hardrock kinda gal, Meyers."

She spun around with a surprised expression on her face before it fell, and she looked at him in a mix of annoyance and surprise.

Closing her purse, she said: „Didn't peg you for a 'uniform everywhere' kinda guy. Also, what makes you think that I like Hardrock music, Styles?"

If Harry hadn't been sure she was bluffing she would have gotten him on that with the unimpressed tone to her voice. But as he was 100% positive that it had been her in that car to his left when they were waiting for the lights to turn green, he confidently responded: „Not sure if you're aware but your car's neither soundproof nor does it have tinted windows."

There was a tiny bit of red creeping up her neck but she retorted nonetheless: „Well, then you've had at least one show today. According to the schedule Mary-Ann should have walked in ten minutes ago. Poor Sanders, look at him."

And he did just that. Harry's colleague was standing at the altar with his hands folded in front his body while he was bouncing up and down on his soles ever so slightly. His eyes which darted to his watch every three seconds or so made Harry feel dizzy, and he honestly felt a bit bad for the guy. Although they didn't always get along at work he wouldn't want for the nervous man to be left at the altar.

„Should have known you'd be here too. Any duties?"

Tamsyn's voice brought him back to the conversation he had with her.
Harry was surprised that she kept it going but he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to lead a bit of small talk with the woman that normally only had one-syllable-answers for him.

She looked good in her light blue dress, and the fact that she wore chucks with it, and her uncharacteristic conversation skills made Harry question everything he ever thought to believe about her. He was sure she would show up to weddings and other similar parties in the same trouser suit she wore to work – if she was even to go to social events such as this.

„Guard of honour, hence the uniform. You?"

She held up her hands slightly as if she was to surrender and said: „Simple spectator. I'm only here for the food."

Harry chuckled and shook his head in amusement which he seemed to be doing often whenever she was around.
He knew she was lying because he'd seen pictures of the hen party on Instagram where he found her smiling uncertainly at the camera. She must have been friends with Mary-Ann. Which probably was why Tamsyn was even here given her apparent aversion towards social outings.
But before he could point out the flaw in her statement the band started playing and all of the guests turned their heads towards the entrance.

The ceremony was short but sweet. Harry was happy for Michael and Mary-Ann and genuinely smiled at them when they passed him while the whole team of NYPD officers were lining up, forming a guard of honour for their mate.

Once all the guests had walked underneath their banners of well-wishes for the newly married couple Harry and his colleagues followed the masses to the cars. Some people said their goodbyes as they weren't coming to the reception.
Harry, however, chauffeured himself and two of his teammates to the location which was a beautiful, old looking city hall on the outskirts of New York.

After only a forty-minute drive they were joining the majority of the other guests in the foyer to get their prosecco and their nametags with the table numbers written on them.
Harry's '6' in the left hand corner didn't match the '7' on his colleague's tags, and after finding his table he realised that there were eight of his team at the reception in total, yet the tables were only big enough for five people.

Only a few minutes later the hall was mostly full and to Harry's delight Tamsyn Meyers was placed at "his" table.
When she noticed him waving at her from where he was sitting while she was waiting to squeeze past a few guests, who were figuring out which table was theirs, she rolled her eyes slightly but he could still make out a small smile.

Once she reached the table Harry's other two teammates recognised her and greeted her, giving a polite nod but he saw that they exchanged unhappy looks.
Either Tamsyn hadn't noticed or she chose to ignore it. She sat down between Harry and another woman Harry knew not.

He wanted to compliment her dress and the shoes but yet again he was cut short by the MC of the night thanking them all for being there and celebrating this day with the bride and groom. He then went on by sharing some details regarding the process of the night, and finally he announced the start of the wedding feast.

During dinner their table was not very interactive apart from Harry trying to get Tamsyn to share some things about her life with him – with moderate success. The newly talkative woman from the church seemed to have been replaced by the rigid and short-fused federal agent Harry knew only too well. By the end of the last course and at the start of the first dance of the bride and the groom she apparently had grown tired of his attempts at small talk.

„Honestly Styles, if it wasn't for Mary-Ann I'd be long gone. Do you ever stop talking?"

„Not if I can help it", he chimed and winked at her. „But if you really don't want to talk anymore we could dance. Doesn't require much speaking at all."

„You're unbelievable", she said with exasperation.

„Oh, come on. Don't you want to get to know people? Most are not that bad at all." Harry offered a wide grin which seemed to annoy his dinner partner even more.

„I'm quite sure you'd fall under the category 'unbearable'", she smirked and Harry could make out the tiniest hint of banter in her retort.

„Being 'quite sure' is not the same as 'knowing'. Go out with me and you can solidify those horrendous claims. Or maybe you'll just be surprised by my exceptional people skills."

He hadn't planned on asking her out tonight and he didn't know why he did, as the answer would undoubtedly be the same she gave him those five times he asked before today.

„Either dance with me or go out with me. You can't be that much of a party pooper."
He was a real teaser and with his sly smile he was provoking her, and she knew it. He saw that she was ready to tell him that she didn't give a damn about what he thought of her. Yet to his utter surprise the words coming out her mouth weren't 'no thanks' or 'you're unbelievable' or any of the sort.
Instead, she looked at him with a certain calculating smile and said: „If I pick the dance will you stop asking me out?"

Harry didn't believe his ears. He was sure his advances would have come to a halt at a brick wall again so to speak but this answer instead lead him to an alleyway with a closed door at the end.
He didn't want to give her any more time to think on it, so rather than answering her he took her hand right away and guided her to the dancefloor where the band played a swingy, jazzy song next which Harry thanked God for. Years of Swing and Rock and Roll dance training would finally pay off. Expertly, he took her left hand in his right, grabbed her waist and guided her through the song. Although she didn't seem to have had much dance training herself she naturally followed his lead and let herself be spun around.
Towards the end of the song they were both out of breath but Harry was in no way ready to tap out. Rather, he gave her one last twirl and then caught her with his right arm at her back and the left hand holding her right hand while bending over her a few inches.

He straightened up right away and pulled her with him, and while they were catching their breaths and waiting for the next song Harry's mind was swimming in a sea of hopeful thoughts.
Maybe, just maybe, if he could manage to convince her of his honest interest throughout their time on the dancefloor tonight he might just find the key to unlock the door at the end of the alleyway.

——————————

Diese Szene geht mir seit Monaten nicht mehr aus dem Kopf, obwohl es eigentlich nur ein Bruchteil des hier aufgeschriebenen Kapitels war. Die FBI-Agentin und der NYPD-Officer waren klar und die Szene mit dem Auto. Der Rest darum herum hat sich dann jedoch so schnell darum gesponnen, dass ich nicht anders konnte, als sie noch weiter auszuführen.

Was haltet ihr davon?

Warum Tamsyn wohl so 'uptight' und nicht so wirklich kontaktfreudig ist?

Ich würde eigentlich gerne eine ganze Geschichte über die Beiden schreiben, aber dazu habe ich dann doch wieder eher zu wenige Ideen.
Aber wer weiß, vielleicht küsst mich ja irgendwann die Muse doch noch 😉

Nun wünsche ich euch allen eine gute Nacht (falls ihr das vor dem zu Bett gehen noch lest) oder dann eben einen erholsamen und gemütlichen Sonntag.

Ganz liebe Grüsse
Eure StephVi