The hour and thirty-minute flight wasn't too bad once Harry pushed coffee down my throat to help with my slight wine hangover, I am not like he who can drink and not have much of a hangover the next day. I guess you could say I am a lightweight. Harry was eyeing this girl on the flight that was across from us, of course, he was subtle and couldn't get her number despite the fact I kept nudging him to at least take a chance and talk to her. But, he didn't. He already wasted his time in Cali without managing to find a girl to try work his charm on. He was preoccupied with tasting new wines with me.

I profoundly sigh as we wander around the farmers market along the bay, a large cup of coffee in my hand with a double shot because according to Harry, I am extremely irritable without coffee, very more so when I have had a bit too much wine the night before. This makes it my second cup by now.

"Why so glum, darling? You still wine drunk?" Harry chimes, entertained by my heavy tempers and sluggish motions. I benevolently poke him while I roll my eyes and take a drink of my coffee that tastes divine — if anyone was wondering— Harry insisted on combining white chocolate syrup to it, needless to say, he executed a good choice. "Ouch, you still grouchy, eh?" Harry smiles that goofy grin of his, his eyes glistening radiantly with the delightful spring ray of sun.

"Not grouchy," I shake my head in defence, trying my best to not sound too grumpy, truth is, I probably am being cantankerous, but it isn't my fault, I am not a morning person, even when I am completely sober, but sunshine over here — Harry — is solely a morning person. "Can't help that I am not like you and like a bloody Lion."

"A lion?" Harry raises a brow while taking a sip of his coffee that isn't nearly as strong as mine.

I nod my head, "yes, you tend to wake up early and be full of beans, but by the early evening, you are totally run out of steam. Just like a Lion."

"And where on God's green earth did you hear that?" ... "Not run out of steam by early evening."

"In some article I read, it is a thing, look it up," I respond.

Harry chuckles to himself, "And what is your animal?"

The tone of his voice makes me assume he is attempting to mock me.

I shake my head while attempting to suppress my smirk written across my lips, "Doesn't matter,"

Harry shakes his head, "Oh, no. Tell me."

I bite my lip before taking a breath, "A wolf,"

Harry arches a sly brow, "I can see that, moody, feisty and will occasionally pounce."

I roll my eyes at him, "Jackass," I snicker while elbowing him tenderly.

"'m not wrong, am I, love?" Harry benevolently nudges me to my side with a cheeky tone laced with his voice.

"You are such a child."

"Many people find that to be an endearing quality." He is sarcastic as he speaks and continues to lead us along the path of the farmers market, passing by small little stands

"Harry, why can't we go to the music project Museum?" I sigh.

"I love music, but I am on a break from it, love." ... "Thought you'd like the art museum... at least you can't get drunk."

"Oh, hush," I gently hit his arm, "you encouraged my wine tasting, you are not innocent in this."

"Whatever, Mia," Harry curls his arm around me and benevolently draws me in front of him as we walk through a crowd, "go to the right, love," he informs me as he retains his hand on the small of my back while we bypass the groups of people and make our way to the right where the market expands out and gives us more room.

These pop-up markets are the best place to get the freshest—and healthiest—fruits and vegetables. Of course, Harry had to stop by here, he is a knack for healthy foods and sometimes boring things.

We stop at a small stand and I take the time to document the colours that I can see and the way the vegetables and fruits are placed specifically. I take a picture on my phone of the sweet display, hoping to use it as a spark for writing my next article.

Who knows? Maybe I can write about the significance of farming-markets and the exceptional organically fresh produce. I am sure Harry would love to read it.

I take the moment to focus on the foods as I glance at them, becoming intrigued when I detect an odd item, "What in the world is that?" I challenge while pointing to a red stalk resembling thing I don't think I have ever seen in my life.

Harry laughs to himself, "that's Rhubarb," he responds, not even needing to ask the lady behind the stall to inform him of the vegetable.

"It's a what?"

"It is one of the vegetables that isn't a common plant in the garden—and it's not sold at many grocery stores, Love."

I pick it up and get a better look at it as if it is some new sort of thing I have just discovered, in my defence, it is newly identified to me. I haven't seen it a day in my life and I have wandered this earth for about twenty-three years. "What do we do with it?"

"The stalks make good pies, chutneys, crisps, and cobblers, especially when combined with strawberries... might have to get ya to try it sometime."

"Wow, And to think I thought you never left the bloody tour bus."

"Oi, cut me some slack."

"That's right," I chuckle, "you'd leave to get kale shakes and god-awful healthy foods."

"That's enough out of Ye." ... "Jus' jealous you can't cook like me,"

My eyes roll skyward at his commentary, okay, maybe he isn't lying... I do wish I could cook like Harry. For someone that spends so much bloody time on a tour bus travelling city to city, he is one hell of a good cook.

We leave the small stall and continue walking, just keeping a typical conversation and observing the different surroundings.

Harry tenderly pulls me closer as his eyes dart around for an immediate way out of the chaos that is brewing before his eyes.

"Fuck," he mutters, tenderly pulling me to the left before his plan of action fails. The two of us become surrounded by women and despite Harry needing a woman, I don't think either of us are enjoying being surrounded by all these people. While Harry tries to contain the group and politely smile and sign a few things and take a few pictures, Harry and I somehow manage to part ways.

I attempt to grasp his lengthy frame but I am shoved too far back and I take the opportunity to wiggle my way out of the group of fans while he strives to battle his way through the melee.

I move away from the mob and dawdle alongside the dock of the ferry. I assemble on the edge and dangle my legs over the ledge while sending a prompt text to Harry to tell him where I am. I have been in these situations with him a few times in the past. They don't really bother me much, it comes with the territory.

The sand looks floury underfoot and casts a feathery, sugar-white cast of hue as I take in a deep breath of the salty air. A single yacht bobs in the incoming tide while on the feathery soft sand sun glow tourists walk along the sand and the boardwalk of the farmers market.

"Mia, are you okay?" I hear Harry's voice before I can manage to look up and see him walking towards me, he offers his hand and helps me up.

"Yeah, I'm good," I wipe the back of my pants while he stares me up and down.

"You're not hurt? Are you fine? I'm so sorry–" Harry begins to fret like the overly protective one he is.

"Harry, stop worrying, I'm fine," I roll my eyes, "are you okay? You seem to have had a few too many girls wantin' ya," I wink playfully and he rolls his eyes at me, "no, seriously, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, better stick to jus' one girl next time," Harry chuckles, "Before you ask, no, I didn't get any of their numbers. Jus' because I see women doesn't mean I am going to jump on them."

"Well, you're on this trip to find love."

"I am on this trip to enjoy time with you, beautiful cities and getting into photography... Our next destination awaits," Harry gestures towards the ferry boat that is beginning to dock.

*** ***

"I'm so sorry, love," Harry's voice radiates from behind me and I glance over to see him extending his arms to a woman, "so sorry," he again excuses and I raise a brow, a little interested in how high-strung and jittery he appears from accidentally knocking his lanky self into the woman.

She gives him a friendly smile and promises him she forgives him before she wanders off. Harry steps closer to me and I cross my arms over my chest, "ye' couldn't ask for her number? You're wasting time," I inform him, "she was pretty and tall, just your type."

He hums, "Mhm, one issue."

"What's that? Your lack of confidence to flirt?" I ask, pointing out how he refuses to make any sort of move so far.

"Oi, I have confidence, Mia," Harry shakes his head in defence, "I can flirt."

I disagree, purposely striving to pester him at this point, "You have no game, styles."

Harry's brows bump together in a scowl, "I do too."

"So why didn't you chat her up?" I challenge curiously,

"She has a ring on her finger, off limits," he informs me and I nod. I am glad he noticed that, I certainly didn't.

"You have a whole boat of women." I spread my arms out wide, gesturing towards the large boat that surely has as least one single woman who would find Harry attractive. Hell, he is Harry Styles, who wouldn't find him attractive?

He has those bewitching, tourmaline-green eyes that are adored by the fairer sex, he has those prominent cheekbones and quite honestly, handsome is an understatement.

"Mia, this isn't the love boat. Bugger off," Harry murmurs as he glances down at his drink and swirls the liquid so the ice jingles to the sides of the glass.

Harry takes a swig of his drink while I take a glance around, scoping out the women that pass us while they wander to the various sections of the ferry to get glimpses of the sunset as it casts itself over the Prussian-blue vault of velvet water below us.

I catch the elegant horizon of a warming blood orange hue that leads into an amethyst-purple tint and invades the April sky over Seattle.

Far out to sea, rivers of pulsing light saturate the sea with gold before the sea and sky melt into each other. The palpitating pulse of the ocean is steady and peaceful as we edge closer shore.

After the thirty-five-minute ferry ride to Bainbridge Island, that is meant to be rich in history, culture and natural beauty, Harry and I part ways at the edge of the dock.

Why do you ask?

A lady 'accidentally' managed to spill her drink on Harry as the ferry docked at port and I gently nudged him to take it as an opportunity. Fate, you could say. I know she didn't inadvertently knock her drink into him, it was undividedly done on purpose. I can tell because of the way she appeared bashful when she apologised and the look in her eye. I hope she isn't planning on going to Vegas anytime soon; she wouldn't make a good poker player.

I watch them part ways and he glances over at me over his shoulder and I give him a smile before I turn to the right and stroll down to the sunrise-gold beach where my toes reach the sand through my sandals. I find a spot on the golden sand and sit down, enjoying the coolness rushing through my body and the soft grains sinking between my toes.

I take a breath of the salty air and smile to myself as I glance down at my phone and open up the notes I use for writing when I don't have my laptop on me.

The seagulls squawk over my head and squabble for morsels left behind from the couple that were on a date a few moments ago. I move closer to the water's edge and allow my feet to touch the edge of the rippling waves crashing against the sand. Between my swirling thoughts of possible things to write about for my next article such as my learnings of grape wine, the distillery and the beautiful fruits from the farmers market.

The water rushes over my feet and I smile to myself, realising that I am sitting in the gateway of paradise that is kindling its own symphony with each movement of the ocean.It's beautiful, just beautiful.

I lift my head to glance out at the ocean and the way the sky has darkened and the sky now has twinkling stars radiating splendidly.

I wonder what they're doing, Harry and Seattle girl. Knowing Harry he probably took her to a small dinner with a nice wine. Or he could be walking around the small town like the rest of the tourists that caught the ferry with us. I imagine Harry and his girl laughing down the streets that are lit up by city lights with the breeze of the ocean lingering around them. She's probably laughing at his corny jokes and trying not to fall for that Cheshire charm that is bewitching.

I am suddenly distracted by a familiar voice, "Of course I find you sitting here writing."

It's Harry.

I cock my head to the side and watch as he walks closer with a small smile, "Shouldn't you be on a date?" I challenge while I stand up and shove my phone into my pocket.

He shrugs, "perhaps, but the ferry is leaving in fifteen so we need to make out way back," he flicks his head back over to the dock where the ferry remains.

"So, how was it?" I ask while we begin to walk back to the dock.

Harry stays very brief, not giving me much to work with. Honestly, he barely gives me anything to work with. I don't even think he let her name slip. All I know is that he ordered the Shrimp, Crab & Scallops served in a creamy Alfredo sauce & tossed over penne pasta while she ordered a "house smoked" brisket on ciabatta bread topped with Mango BBQ sauce. If I didn't know any better, I would say that he paid more attention to the food more than anything.

*** ***

I sit on my own while I stare out into the abyss of the ocean as the ferry rocks against the waves. The cold air swirls around me and I heavily sigh, trying my best to ignore the laughs of everyone around me.

One can only stare out at the ocean for so long before they become rather bored. I could move from my perched position and go scope out the single men on board, but to be quite honest, I am not even in the mood for that.

I kind of just went to hurry up and get to the hotel where I can curl up to the softness of the sheets and go to sleep. Seattle has worn me out.

I feel Harry's hand touch my back before he climbs over and sits down beside me, "ye' look like a lone wolf over here," Harry points out the fact I have kept to myself and was just relaxing on my own. "What's the matter? Are you cold?" He challenges, taking note of how my legs are curled up to my chest.

"No, I am fine," I shake my head.

"Then what's wrong? You're not even drinking wine or trying to shove me into any other women." ... "You seem like you need cheering up," Harry comments and I side-eye him.

I clear my throat, "don't you dare tickle me."

"Hmm, what's the matter darlin', you still wine drunk?" He chuckles and I roll my eyes at him for what is probably the hundredth time today.

Our friendship is based on eye rolls at this point.

"Do we have any other adventures on a boat or a ferry?"

harry thinks for a moment, "Not that I have planned, would you like another? Sure we can do some fishin' in Florida off a boat."

I shake my head, "No... don't want that," I chuckle, "I think I'm seasick, to sake the least," I inform him softly as the sea breeze picks up around us and the sudden hurray of other passengers sound. I can only assume someone is celebrating a birthday or someone just bought a round of shots.

"Aww," Harry coos, his hand rubbing small circles on my back.

"You should be getting back to Ms Seattle," I flick my head over to where he was in a small group.

Harry chuckles nervously, "Ehh, a bit of a bore... Much rather stay here," he responds before his arm drapes around me.

"She's going to think you're a player, Harry... The next thing you know you'll be plastered all over the magazines and I will have to politely tell my boss that the articles are false."

Harry shakes his head, "Didn't tell her m' name," ... "Not tha' stupid, love."

"What did you tell her your name was?" I curiously inquire.

"Until we get off this ferry, my name is Chandler."

"Last name Bing?" I grin, a little amused.

"Don't laugh, your name is Monica,"

"Very creative," I comment, my eyes catching a glimpse of the moon that is like a ghostly-silver disc in the sky overlooking the astral-blue smoothness from the horizon in. "Why Monica?"

"Because she and Chandler were best friends."

"No, they were lovers,"

Harry thinks for a moment and shrugs, "Yeah but not until the end." ... "Look at the horizon," Harry points out to the horizon that has yet to change since the sky turned dark.

"It hasn't changed since the sun went down, not too interesting," I mumble as I lean my head on his shoulder, something I always tend to do.

In this friendship, his shoulder becomes my pillow at least once a day.

"Looking at the horizon helps with seasickness, silly. I'll get ya some ginger ale at the hotel." ...

Harry keeps me occupied and laughing for the most of the Ferry ride, mostly telling me his ridiculous corny jokes that I am pretty sure he reads online late at night when he can't sleep...