"Wait. What do you mean 'we?'" Goldie stares at her dad in confusion. Her eyes search around. Her vision is blurry, then brought into focus by a familiar beam of light. "ANDREW?"

"Couldn't let your dad come without a chaperone." Andrew wraps his arms around Goldie's shoulders and squeezes her tight. It's the kind of hug where you can practically feel the anxiety leave your body. The kind of embrace that makes one feel at home and at peace. "I've missed you, Mi-"

"I've missed you too," Goldie responds, cutting Andrew off before he can say her real name. "Call me Goldie, okay?" she whispers.

Andrew gives a confused look, his eyes squinted and nose scrunched. He rests his head in the crook of Goldie's neck. As his eyes open from the ecstasy of her sweet smell and tender grasp, he finds a glaring figure in the corner of the lobby. Harry.

"You give the best hugs. I've missed this so much." Andrew maintains eye contact with Harry, squeezing her tighter and tries to communicate his history with the new lady of Harry's affection in his expression. Andrew places his hand on the small of her back and rubs with fervor, in a way she's never felt from her friend before.

Goldie pulls away, confused by Andrew's actions, which seem out of character.

"Alright, alright, alright." Harry steps up, moving Andrew's hand away from Goldie - a nonverbal but obvious clue to Andrew for him to step away. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Golds?" He puts his arm around her shoulders.

"Of course! Sorry. How rude of me. This is my dad, Jimmy. And this is Andrew, my best friend from back home."

"Ah, yes! The best friend." Harry puts his hand out for Andrew to shake, emphasizing his new nemesis' title. Andrew promptly accepts. The two linger, their knuckles white and arm muscles flexed in attempt to display dominance over the other. "And, Jimmy," Harry says, breaking his grip to shake Goldie's dad's hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sir." He tries to give his best respectful tone.

"So this is the Harry Styles we've heard so much about," Jimmy shakes Harry's hand. "I'd like to talk to you later. Man to man."

Harry nods nervously. But he isn't worried. There's something about Jimmy he finds an immediate kinship with. Both wear baggy button ups, buttoned down several buttons. Their hair is long and unkempt in a way that effortlessly suits both their personalities.

"What's going on? What are you guys doing here?" Goldie interrupts.

"I mean, I know I'm a pretty cool dad but you didn't really expect me to stay away forever did you? Read about some recent events at the festival and thought it was about time I make a visit."

"We'd make a visit," Andrew adds, looking at Harry and then back at Goldie.

Goldie feels worried by the tones of their voices. She knew the fight at the festival would make the news separate from Rolling Stone magazine. Mick Jagger met new Mick Jagger and riles an all-out brawl. Stories like that write themselves. She as an aspiring journalist knows this better than any of them. "Regardless of the reason, I'm happy you're here."

The Orphans barge into the lobby, creating a ruckus behind them.

"Shit, man. Harry and Goldie got the hot tub," Jonesy says with immense disappointment.

"What are you talking about, Jonesy? Only Harry got it. I don't have anything." She kicks Jonesy's ankle and flashes the rest of the guys a concerned look, signalling that they need to behave themselves. "Boys, this is my dad Jimmy and my friend Andrew."

Each band member introduces themselves. Grimmy, the only one that knows the relationship that's kindled between Harry and Goldie, smiles wide at the scene unfolding in front of him. It's like his own, personal soap opera.

"What are you talking about, Goldie? I said first to the front desk. You two beat us all. Guess you'll have to bear it and share it." Grimmy hooks his arms around the backs of Harry and Goldie's necks and brings them in close before looking back to Jimmy. "You have a wonderful daughter, sir. She's been a real treat to have on the road with us. Hasn't she, Harry?"

"Mmhmm," Harry mumbles through gritted teeth, forcing a smile.

"ANYWAYS!" Goldie nudges Grimmy's arm off of her. "Shall we check in and meet back down here for dinner? Let's say 6 o'clock? Dad, I'll help you to your's and Andrew's room."

* * *

"This isn't exactly The Ritz but it does the job, right?" Goldie sits on one of the hotel room beds.

"Yep," Jimmy says, placing his bags on the ground. "I need some coffee. Saw a little place next door. I think you two need to talk." He leaves the room, the sound of the closing door signalling the old friends to have a much needed discussion.

There's a brief moment of silence. Only thirty seconds, at most. No matter how short, it fills the room with tension. She respects Andrew's opinion to the highest regard and although the details of his disappointment are still somewhat a mystery, she's still in tune with what's taking place. They both sense a difference in Goldie's spirit. Something that wasn't there before. A once half-bloomed rose that's completely blossomed.

She paces back and forth, watching her toes press against the hard, tightly-woven carpet. It doesn't have give like the sandy beaches of Venice Beach. It's not soft like the tiny rocks that make up the tan shores. Fluorescents are no replacement for natural sunlight. And musty atmosphere from an ancient air conditioning unit will never be anything like fresh ocean mist.

"So you guys beat everyone else to the front desk. Get to share the hot tub now, yeah?" Andrew aggressively unpacks his bag, stacking perfectly folded shirts into the drawers of the room's armoire.

"Andrew, what's your problem? You've been acting weird. And what was with that stunt grabbing my back like that? You've never done that before."

"Don't worry, Goldie. It's Goldie now, right? I'm just being myself, Goldie." Andrew puts emphasis on her pen name with every utterance. He keeps his back to her. He doesn't want to show emotion. He doesn't want to face her as his hateful words pour from behind his usually-timid lips.

"Who are you right now? You took me to the concert. You encouraged me to submit the article. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. And I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for you. So why are you treating me like I'm some fucking villain? Like some stranger you met on the street?"

"Oh, you're cursing like a sailor now, are you?" Andrew stands, finally gathering enough courage to look at her directly. "What are you doing, Michelle?" They stand only inches a part. The heat of their angry, frustrating skin builds between each other like a self-energized sauna. "I would have never pushed you like that if I knew this is how it'd end up."

"What are you even talking about right now?" Goldie responds. "End up like what? I'm doing what you, my mom and Jimmy have always told me to do. I'm living my life. I'm going after my dreams. I'm so confused right now!"

She rubs her temples, defeating a migraine building behind her eyes.

"I guess I never thought you'd actually go for it," Andrew comments, dropping his head, knowing what he's said is the most hurtful words he could have let loose. He goes back to unpacking his bags, unable to stare at her. "Are you even you anymore? I saw the way you looked at him. The look in your eye when you two came into the lobby. You didn't even call me back when I called you for your birthday, Michelle. I waited up and took my break at the ice cream shop to make sure I called you at the right time because I knew you'd be in a different timezone."

"What? You never called me."

"I called multiple times and when I finally got through, your new boyfriend said you were 'busy on the bed.' You realize that's what he thinks of you, right?" Andrew sits on the end of the full-sized mattress, the cheap springs caving in beneath him. "You're probably nothing more than another fan to him. I called, M. If he didn't tell you that, then what else is he keeping from you?" Andrew looks up at her, his eyes sweating with emotions. Fear. Sadness. Longing.

She looks back. Her eyes filled with emotions as well, but above all else - sadness.

"I- I - I think I have to go. I should probably unpack. Get ready for dinner." She grabs the rubberband from around her wrist and nervously tries to tie her hair up in a tight bun like her mom would when they'd play ballerinas. It was a nostalgic comfort to her.

A knock at the door brings them both out of the misty cloud of emotions. She stammers over and opens the door.

"Dinner in 10 minutes." Jimmy walks into the room. He can see how upset his daughter is and places his hand on her delicate jaw. "You okay, baby girl?"

Goldie nods and leaves the room. She's lost, both literally and figuratively. She had such a clear idea of where she wanted to go, only to be knocked down by where she was. She also has no idea whose room she's supposed to stay in for the night. She decides to go back to the lobby and request a key to Harry's room. He had already put in a note to allow her in.

"You okay, Michelle?" Harry asks as she finally enters. He can tell there's something off. What he'd give to fix it. To fix her. To help her through whatever she's going through.

She sits down in the fetal position on the floor, fighting tears and succumbing to the plethora of thoughts battling their way through her head. "What did you call me?"

"Michelle... Is that okay?" For the first time in his life, Harry was unsure.

"I like you calling me by my name. I like the way you say it." She nods, smiling and giggling through the moisture balling in her eyes. "Makes me feel at home."

"C'mon. Let's go to dinner." Harry puts his hand out to help her to her feet. "I gotta impress Jimmy, yeah?"

* * *

"And then Nancy kissed me on the cheek and said I was her favorite! Can you believe that? Nancy fucking Wilson said I WAS HER FAVORITE!" Niall dips a beignet into a small dish of raspberry jam and stuffs the entire dessert into his mouth. "I couldn't get over it," he says, accidentally spitting powdered sugar onto Jimmy's face.

"That's crazy," Jimmy politely responds, wiping the excess sugar from under his eyes. "Wait, so tell me about this janitor?" He looks to Jonesy.

"I've heard a lot about you, Andrew," Harry says separately as the conversation between Jimmy and the band continues.

Harry and Andrew sit on either side of her. A perfect metaphor for her current state of life.

"I'm sure you have." Andrew stirs his iced tea with his straw. "We've known each other for practically all our lives. I haven't heard much about you, though."

"That's interesting." Harry adjusts his body so his knees point toward Andrew and pulls Goldie's chairs closer to his. "She hasn't really had time to check in. I'm sure you'll find out more once the article comes out. Do you want another drink, Golds?"

"She'll take a shirley temple," Andrew requests smugly.

"What?" Goldie looks to Andrew. "Since when do you order for me?"

"Do you want a shirley temple or would you prefer a screwdriver, maybe? Like we drank in Vegas. You seemed to really like those."

"I thought orange juice gives you heartburn," Andrew answers for her.

"She seemed fine when we were on the strip. Remember that? When we drank screwdrivers and pantsed Matt in front of that group of tourists outside the casino?" Harry's nostrils flare with laughter and anger.

"We had to get him back!" Goldie laughs. She looks at Harry longingly. What she would give to just kiss him freely and openly without a care in the world.

"Sounds like you two have had a lot of fun," regards Andrew. "Who else have you had fun with while on tour, Harry? I'm sure you've lost track of their names by now."

"Andrew..." she warns. She can sense the animosity building. She can see it in front of her very eyes.

"Excuse me?" Harry leans in closer to Andrew's face.

Andrew move forward as well. "I think you know what I'm talking about."

"I guess I'm confused seeing as I haven't really paid much attention to others since sharing a tent with Michelle." Harry enunciates her real name with passion. He knows this will turn the dagger in Andrew's chest. This will truly be the death of her sweet friend.

And Harry's correct. Andrew's face turns ghost white in response to Harry's last statement. Harry knew the secret she's been so desperately trying to hold. She made Andrew feel like a stranger for attempting to call her by her real name, yet Harry made her feel at home with the pronunciation through his deep British accent.

"Hey, Harry?" Grimmy speaks up from the other end of the table. Harry, Goldie and Andrew all look up to find the bandmates and Jimmy looking directly at them. Stinky and Pig breathe heavily and snort underneath the table, awaiting table scraps to fall in front of them. "How about me and you go for a quick walk? I'll show you the venue. It's just a block down."

Harry stands and walks out with Grimmy, the two clearly arguing as they exit. The table stays silent. Awkward quietness overcomes them all as they search for a way to end the weird energy.

"I should probably go with them," Goldie says standing.

"No," Jimmy chimes in. "I think we need to have a talk."