Goldie traces shapes in the dirt with the toe of her sneaker. Puffs of dust build around her feet, dirtying her ankles with a thin layer of brown film. The texture of the ground is a lot like the sandy beaches back home but with more rock and no ocean. Summer sun beats down on her bare shoulders, singing the skin surrounding her tank top's thin spaghetti straps.

"Where the hell is Grimmy? He's been gone for an eternity." Matt paces back and forth in front of the smoking grill of the tour bus. Broken down in the middle of nowhere, the group of young travelers have been waiting for hours outside. Sunlight hitting the aluminium sides of their moving home heated the insides to an unlivable temperature. The Orphans and Goldie took sanctuary in the growing shade and setting sun outside.

"Doris is reliable. She'll be fine." Jonesy hits the front of the bus. "Fuck!" He looks down at his burnt hand. "She just needs a drink is all. Calm down, Doris." Jonesy pours the remainder of his lukewarm beer on the grill, creating a loud hiss from the engine underneath. "Well, damn..."

"I don't think Grimmy's comin' back soon," Niall notes, looking out to the open horizon. "This road stretches for miles. It's late on a Sunday too. I can't imagine a mechanic being open. Only one thing to do!" Niall disappears back into the bus and comes out two arms full of nothing but beer bottles, save one giant handle of whiskey and a half-filled box of popsicles. Slipping on his dark Ray Bans, he sits in the dirt, motioning for everyone to join. "Here you go, Goldie. Before they melt," he says, tossing her the box of frozen treats.

She rolls her eyes and pulls out an orange-flavored popsicle before throwing the box to Jonesy. Pulling back the wrapper, she looks up at Harry, who's already looking at her. "Can I help you?" Goldie giggles, aggressively biting the tip.

Harry laughs, putting his hands out like a football quarterback and signals for Jonesy to throw him one next. He pulls out a grape one for himself. Maintaining eye contact with Goldie, he sinks his bunny teeth into the dessert, taking several quick bites. "Ah, fuck!" He rubs his temples.

"Careful now, Harry," Goldie comments, sitting down next to Niall. Harry shuffles over to her and plops his boney, jean-covered bottom into the dirt. He looks deeply into her eyes and leans in slowly before taking a bite of her orange popsicle. "Hey!" She yells.

"But the orange is so much better!" He cries. "And you got the last one."

Goldie waves the orange scent in his face. "Doesn't that smell delicious? Better than that stick of medicine you have in your hand. I know there was a cherry in there. Who chooses grape?"

"A man with nothing to lose," Harry responds. He goes to take another bite but before he can, Goldie playfully smacks the popsicle out of his hand. "That's it. You're asking for it now!" He tickles her sides, bringing out a loud laugh— part chuckle, part cry. "I'll stop when you give me another bite."

"Not again! Fine! Fine! Uncle!" She begrudgingly puts the popsicle in Harry's face. He grins, wide and sinisterly. He grunts, biting nearly half of the frozen goodness. "What is wrong with you? You ate almost all of it!"

"Oh my god. Can you two just get a room already?" Matt says, joining Niall, Goldie and Harry in the shade. He throws Goldie's bag in between the two not-so-discreet flirts in attempt to break up the elementary school romance. "Makin' me sick. I swear."

Goldie places the small piece of popsicle in her mouth and opens her bag, grabbing her photo album of Polaroids.

"Did you decide what pic of me you want to get tattooed on your ass?" Harry jokes, wrapping his arm around her slightly-burnt shoulders.

"Yes, actually. This one from Vegas." She flips a few pages in. The picture isn't particularly attractive. The corners of his mouth are turned down in an exaggerated frown. A candid shot she took of him when they were practicing. He can't not be attractive though, she thinks.

Harry pinches her rib cage, causing her to pull away from his touch. Several weeks into the tour and you'd swear Goldie has known Harry and all the other bandmates their entire lives. Funny how living in close quarters with someone can create such an intense bond. These were her people. At least for now.

"Wait, guys," Jonesy jogs to the bus. He's never moved quicker than a snail's pace but Jonesy on a mission was an unstoppable force. Drugs of some sort were usually on the other end of his journey.

"I rather like this photo of you myself," Harry says, oblivious to the winded Jonesy. Harry points to a picture of Goldie. She wears a loose-fitting Ramones shirt, lightly biting on her thumbnail. "You look great in my shirt," he whispers closely to her ear. Puffs of breath hit her lobe.

She nudges him away in embarrassment. She's never been a fan of blatant attention like this. "I'm only wearing it because SOMEONE spilled a glass of vodka on me. And don't try and pretend like you didn't like walking around the restaurant shirtless. All those fans ogling you."

"You still looked incredible." Harry squeezes her knee and looks up at Jonesy, who's rolling a giant joint. "What are you doing?"

"A fan gave me this at the last show. We gotta kill some time, man. We're gonna be here all night." Jonesy pulls a lime green BIC lighter out of his pocket and lights the end, taking three sizable inhales, before passing it to Matt. "Good shit," he struggles to comment, holding in a mass of smoke.

Memories line the pages of her album. Niall's first performance in Portland. Matt trying to give his best male model pose next to random KISS statues in a park. Grimmy holding a stray dog, found in an alley, that they drunkenly turned into a rescue nearby. Jonesy smoking with a fan backstage. Mitch and Harry, mid-argument about the infamous horseradish lotion. Harry giving her a thumbs up on stage after stealing her coffee during a performance. These were the moments she never wanted to forget.

"Goldie?" Harry holds the rolled joint in front of her face, pulling her from her thoughts. She hesitates and thinks about the last time she got high with them all. The night turned black for her but she remembers how she'd been drinking at that point. She's dead sober now. Maybe it won't be as bad.

With the heat of the sun and Harry's eyes burning into her cheekbones, she caves and grabs the joint from his hands.

* * *

Snorting and moisture push against the side of her face. Head heavy and throbbing, she struggles to open her heavy, swollen eyelids. Stinky sweetly licks the side of her face, awakening her from her slumber.

"The hell?" Goldie goes to run her fingers through her usually unruly hair, but is stopped by tight braided pigtails. Stinky runs out, searching for his owner or stray food more likely. The smell of weed, beer and cologne fill the open air. Her surroundings are still unknown as her tired eyes struggle to focus. Pee. I have to pee. And water. God, I need water.

She swings her legs off the side of the bed, but her feet don't land on the laminate flooring usually by her bunk. Men's jeans and chelsea boots sit beneath her toes. Visions from the night before begin to flood her brain, like a hole in a dam slowly growing wider.

"There she is," a low, scratchy voice says from behind her. The mattress pushes down as her sleeping mate moves forward. Long arms wrap around her small waist. She looks down. Why am I wearing this Ramones shirt again? "It's too early, love. Come back to bed." The voice of the tired man is clear now. It's Harry.

He pulls her back toward him, pressing her back into his hard chest. Black tattoos envelop her upper body as though they're her own. Her eyes open as wide as humanly possible at the realization of who's spooning her. Light snoring suggests Harry's already fallen back asleep. The shift in his weight on top of her also showing even more evidence of him passing out.

She turns toward his unconscious body. Splatters of dried mud, in the formation akin to war paint, scatter across his face. She goes to touch the cracked clay under his eyes when she realizes she herself has muddy drawings on her hand and up her arm.

H + G. Anchor. Poorly drawn butterfly. Mermaid. All drawn on her arms is dry, gray silt. She moves her hand up to Harry's long hair. Braids. What the hell happened last night?

"Mmm," Harry moans, a small smirk appearing across his half-asleep face. She pulls her hand away, afraid she's going to wake the tired rockstar. "No, no. You don't have to stop," he says, putting his hand over hers, eyes still closed.

"Harry... I... uh... need to use the restroom really quick. Do you need anything?"

"For you to come back as quickly as possible," he jokes, nuzzling into her side. "And maybe another kiss when you're back?"

Moonlit dirt rolls over the hills. Niall, Grimmy, Jonesy, Mitch and Matt laugh in the back, playing air guitar and dancing around the makeshift fire they managed to create once the sun went down.

"You cold?" Harry's heavy steps crunch the rocks and dirt behind her until she feels his warm presence against her shoulder blades.

"A bit." Goldie turns towards him.

"C'mon. C'mere." Harry unzips his black hoodie, holding either side out before wrapping the fabric around her bare arms. He zips it up, bringing her in closer than ever. "Think it's gonna rain again?" Harry looks up at the sky, his furrowed brow observing the atmosphere.

"Hope not. It's already so muddy. Scared Doris will get stuck at this rate." Goldie trembles, half because it's cold. The other half because Harry's in such close proximity.

"Full moon tonight." Harry looks down, his six-foot-tall body overpowering her shorter frame. "Has me thinking 'bout that story you told me."

"About the sun and the moon?" She looks up at his glow. Highlights of silver and gray streak across his handsome face, accentuating the features she appreciates most. A small halo sits atop his mop of brown curls. An angelic sight to see, she thinks.

Harry nods."I've been thinking about it a lot actually... and some other things."

"What other things?" She racks her brain for what he may be referring to.

"You. The cherry popsicle." He sheepishly laughs and takes a deep breath. "You've gotta bit of a hold on me, Goldie. Don't know how and don't know why. Not even sure how to act around you sometimes."

"You're joking, right?"

"Why would I be joking?"

"You? Mister Personality? You get tongue tied around me? Just doesn't add up."

"Guess that's just the effect you have on me. I'm high enough to admit it now." He goes to look back at her when he notices her head is already looking down. He meant to kiss her lips but her shy behavior suggests she may not be ready. Instead, he plants a delicate kiss to the top of her head.

"What are you doing?" She looks back up. She was ready.

"Well, I wanted to kiss my biggest fan but she was looking down." He laughs as she struggles to bring her hand up in the crowded sweatshirt and slap his chest.

"There's the Harry I know!" She giggles with him. Mid-laugh, he bends down and kisses her deeply. Her lips stay frozen for a few seconds before reciprocating. This is her first kiss. Could he tell? She tries to mimic his motions. His fingertips dance down her back and squeeze her tightly. She does the same, hugging him underneath the sweater amid the growing heat between them. One could have sworn steam was building above their conjoined bodies.

Harry's tongue slowly starts to slide into her mouth. This is it. This would be the end of her. She could lose herself in the taste of his mouth and determined spirit. She breathes him in, and he her. Harry feels sunshine pour onto his tongue. Rays of light and cherry dance on his taste buds, welcoming him in for more.

"INCOMING!" Matt yells. Suddenly, a ball of mud hits the back of Harry's head and makes its way to the side of her face. Stray pieces of dirt land in Goldie and Harry's slightly opened mouths.

"Typical, Matt," Harry comments. "Let's get em."

"Oh my god," she whispers, finishing her time on the toilet. She steps out of the bathroom. All The Orphans are sleeping in various places of the bus. Not a single one in their own bunks. Grimmy at the wheel. Mitch upright on a chair. Matt on the floor. Niall handcuffed to the dining table?

"NIALL! STOP TRYING TO JUMP IN THE FIRE!" Goldie pulls him inside the bus and wraps the metal around his wrist, the other side to the table. Where the handcuffs came from will forever remain a mystery.

Each guy has their own mud art painted across their arms and faces, as well as matching braided hair.

"I'm really good at braiding. You have no idea. Best braider... of... of all time," Goldie slurs her words, small hiccups interrupting each phrase. "Come here, Grimmy. Just... just let me show you guys. You have no idea."

Matt wears her spaghetti-strap tank from the day before. Her eyes moves down his body where she realizes his ankle is tied to Mitch's.

"We should all trade clothes," Goldie recommends as the guys prep for a three-legged race. "Winner gets this thrift store tanktop." She snaps her strap and falls back in the dirt. Meanwhile, Matt runs forward at the very start of the race, dragging Mitch behind him through the rainy mud.

She laughs at the memory. Her people. All the new loves of her life. Stranded in the middle of America would forever be one of the best moments of this trip and whether she knew it or not now, her life. Harry was the Peter Pan to her Wendy, and The Orphans were their Lost Boys.

"Not quick enough," Harry says from the doorway of his bunk. His long torso is stretched. His arms up above his head, hanging onto to the frame. Forced to trade "outfits" with Niall, he wears nothing more than a tattered pair of black jeans. They hang low, the v-bone of his hips showcasing the ferns tattooed on his lower stomach. "Come on now. You owe me a kiss."