I Thought You'd Care
Chapter 4: I Don't Like Kissing
Chapter 4: I Don’t Like Kissing
Harry’s POV
My head was swimming. I wondered what Zayn could possibly have to done to elicit such a reaction from her, but she seemed really upset, so I just kept a hand on her back to steady her and walked her over to the elevator. When we got there and I pressed the button to go down, I finally decided to say something. She wasn’t crying or anything of that sort, but she was quite pale and looked almost like she’d seen a ghost. I suppose she had.
“Are you ok?” I asked, finally removing my hand from the small of her back.
She nodded. “I’m really sorry. Zayn went to my high school. He was…well, he was mean, to say the least. He would say these awful things about me. I’ve been trying to distance myself from all that, you know. And I was doing well. But seeing him just brought back memories.”
I couldn’t believe it. Zayn was one of the nicest people I knew. I shook my head. “He’s the kindest person I know. I can’t believe he would be like that.”
She looked at the ground. “Maybe he’s changed. He wasn’t always like that. But I just sort of…freaked out. I do that sometimes. I’m sorry.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s fine. Whatever you need. We can drop it if you’d like.”
“That would be good. Sorry, it’s kind of embarrassing. I sort of blew up.” She tugged at her sleeves a bit, and I realized she was still wearing Liam’s t-shirt. She seemed to notice, too, and she started to pull it off, saying, “Oh, god, I’m sorry. Here,”
I laughed, stopping her. “I think you can wear it until you get home. It shouldn’t be a problem. She smiled. “Thanks.” I only nodded and walked out as the doors to the lift opened.
We walked out through the back way to where my car was. I realized as I got into my BMW that I was probably going to have to explain to her why I had such a nice car, and house, and clothes. I could tell she was wondering, but she hadn’t said anything yet. This was my least favorite part of meeting someone new, who hadn’t heard of the band, because it’s terrifying to think that maybe the person will stop liking you for you and just stick with you because you’re famous. It’s happened far too many times, so I waited until she had shown me a map to her house on her phone and we had pulled onto the street to say anything.
“You’re probably wondering why I have such a nice car.” I said, navigating my way through the London traffic. People were honking at me, but I was paying more attention to my passenger than the road. She nodded. “You read my mind.”
“It’s a long story.” I said, sighing. And one that I don’t particularly want to tell, I thought to myself. I was deathly afraid that she would stop liking me as Harry and only like me as Hazza or Harry Styles. Not that I didn’t want her to like the band—I was more nervous that I couldn’t just be a guy as soon as I told her.
“The car ride is forty five minutes,” She said. “I think we have enough time for any story you can come up with.”
I looked out the window. It was raining, now, quite hard. I was almost out of downtown. Soon, we would be able to turn onto some back roads, and escape the traffic and bustle that pervaded this area. “I’m in a band,” I said slowly, contemplating every word. “It’s a boy band, with the other guys. You know, Liam, Niall, Louis, and Zayn. We sing together. Our name is One Direction.”
She frowned and kept staring at the scenery rolling by. I decided to continue. “We were all on the X Factor together. They put us together as a group. We didn’t win, but we got third place. Now we’re signed on to Simon Cowell’s record label—you know who that is, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” She simply said.
“And, well, I have a lot of money. A lot. So I buy things with it. Like this car.”
“Are you guys, you know, big?”
“We played at the Olympics. We sold out Madison Square Garden in less than five minutes. Turn on the radio,” I answered. She did, and sure enough, there was one of our songs. “This is one of my favorites of ours, it’s called Magic.”
She listened for a while, then nodded in approval. “So you’re a millionaire, then, eh?” With that, my heart sank. Just like all the rest, she was. I couldn’t just be Harry, a normal 19 year old kid. I had to be Harry Styles, member of One Direction, millionaire and womanizer. I had to be someone I’m not. I gulped. “Yeah,” I said, after a while.
She laughed, now, finally. After what seemed like ages of me bragging. “Good. I don’t feel so bad about stealing your pizza and your band aids.” I smiled, too, despite myself. For some reason, as she said that, a weight lifted off me. It seemed sort of like she didn’t really care about all the fame and money. Her next words confirmed that. “It doesn’t really matter, though, does it, being famous, if you’re still really shit at FIFA.”
I laughed. I liked her a lot. We hit a bump and she hit her arm against the door, wincing. “Ouch,” she said. I smiled at her, taking my eyes off the road for a second. “Want me to kiss it better?” There was my trademark flirting. I couldn’t help myself. Normally, I just did it for fun, but with her, it actually gave me a few butterflies.
She wrinkled her face. “No way. I hate kisses. They’re awful.”
I looked at her incredulously. How could someone not like kissing? It was one of my favorite pastimes. It was fun. It was exhilarating. I suppose the look on my face gave away my emotions, because she laughed nervously. “How do you even not like kissing? How is that even possible?” I asked, turning back to the road.
“I just do. It’s horrible.” In some sort of weird irony, Kiss You came on the radio.
I started pulling over. My image as a flirt was only going to be confirmed with what I was about to do. “What are you doing?” She asked.
“I’m going to make you like kissing.” I said. I pulled onto the shoulder of the road—as if it mattered, there were no cars anyway—and unbuckled my seatbelt, motioning for her to do the same. I scooted over closer towards the middle and faced her. “I think that the reason you don’t like kissing is that you’ve never had a good kiss before.”
She pondered that a bit, and finally nodded. “Okay, true enough, hotshot.”
I grinned cheekily and put a hand on her cheek, leaning in. She did, too, although she seemed a little taken aback. Our lips were just inches away from each other when I stopped and whispered, “I’m going to change that.” And then her lips were pressing into mine, and I had to admit that for someone who didn’t like kissing, she was a good kisser, and her lips moved in rhythm to mine and I felt her hand on my neck and the other one running through my hair and I thought to myself that I don’t think I’d ever had a straight up kiss as good as this one before. And then I bit down a bit on her lower lip and she opened her mouth and there was her tongue, and I felt hers slip into my mouth a bit and collide with mine. I was just confirming the fact that she was the best kiss I’d had in my life when my phone buzzed. I pulled away and checked it, having been conditioned to reading texts immediately in case they were important, seeing it was from Niall, telling me to get her number so we could see her again. I put it away and looked back at her. She was sitting with her eyebrows raised and a slight smile playing on her lips when I realized that I had just pulled out my phone immediately without a word to her. I laughed nervously. “Uh, sorry. Force of habit. Sometimes it can be really important that I answer right away.”
She laughed. Oh, why hadn’t I noticed that she had such a nice laugh? “It’s fine. Was it important?”
“No, it was just Niall.”
“Oh. Okay.” Changing the subject, she said, “So that was good.”
I smiled. “Have I changed your mind?”
“Absolutely,” She said, leaning in again, when I got an idea. I pulled away. She looked at me confusedly. “You can get another kiss,” I said playfully, “If you come back to the flat now. I think maybe you should talk to Zayn and Niall was sad to see you go. We like you. And plus, I totally want you to stay for dinner because we have far too much food and we could use another person helping us eat it.”
She looked away, pondering, and I wondered if I had overstepped my bounds. She finally smiled at me. “Okay, fine. But only because that was the best kiss I’ve ever had and I really want another one.”
I laughed and looked at her. “Hey, it was mine too. I want another one as much as you do. I rebuckled my seatbelt and turned around, heading back towards the flat.
Harry’s POV
My head was swimming. I wondered what Zayn could possibly have to done to elicit such a reaction from her, but she seemed really upset, so I just kept a hand on her back to steady her and walked her over to the elevator. When we got there and I pressed the button to go down, I finally decided to say something. She wasn’t crying or anything of that sort, but she was quite pale and looked almost like she’d seen a ghost. I suppose she had.
“Are you ok?” I asked, finally removing my hand from the small of her back.
She nodded. “I’m really sorry. Zayn went to my high school. He was…well, he was mean, to say the least. He would say these awful things about me. I’ve been trying to distance myself from all that, you know. And I was doing well. But seeing him just brought back memories.”
I couldn’t believe it. Zayn was one of the nicest people I knew. I shook my head. “He’s the kindest person I know. I can’t believe he would be like that.”
She looked at the ground. “Maybe he’s changed. He wasn’t always like that. But I just sort of…freaked out. I do that sometimes. I’m sorry.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s fine. Whatever you need. We can drop it if you’d like.”
“That would be good. Sorry, it’s kind of embarrassing. I sort of blew up.” She tugged at her sleeves a bit, and I realized she was still wearing Liam’s t-shirt. She seemed to notice, too, and she started to pull it off, saying, “Oh, god, I’m sorry. Here,”
I laughed, stopping her. “I think you can wear it until you get home. It shouldn’t be a problem. She smiled. “Thanks.” I only nodded and walked out as the doors to the lift opened.
We walked out through the back way to where my car was. I realized as I got into my BMW that I was probably going to have to explain to her why I had such a nice car, and house, and clothes. I could tell she was wondering, but she hadn’t said anything yet. This was my least favorite part of meeting someone new, who hadn’t heard of the band, because it’s terrifying to think that maybe the person will stop liking you for you and just stick with you because you’re famous. It’s happened far too many times, so I waited until she had shown me a map to her house on her phone and we had pulled onto the street to say anything.
“You’re probably wondering why I have such a nice car.” I said, navigating my way through the London traffic. People were honking at me, but I was paying more attention to my passenger than the road. She nodded. “You read my mind.”
“It’s a long story.” I said, sighing. And one that I don’t particularly want to tell, I thought to myself. I was deathly afraid that she would stop liking me as Harry and only like me as Hazza or Harry Styles. Not that I didn’t want her to like the band—I was more nervous that I couldn’t just be a guy as soon as I told her.
“The car ride is forty five minutes,” She said. “I think we have enough time for any story you can come up with.”
I looked out the window. It was raining, now, quite hard. I was almost out of downtown. Soon, we would be able to turn onto some back roads, and escape the traffic and bustle that pervaded this area. “I’m in a band,” I said slowly, contemplating every word. “It’s a boy band, with the other guys. You know, Liam, Niall, Louis, and Zayn. We sing together. Our name is One Direction.”
She frowned and kept staring at the scenery rolling by. I decided to continue. “We were all on the X Factor together. They put us together as a group. We didn’t win, but we got third place. Now we’re signed on to Simon Cowell’s record label—you know who that is, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” She simply said.
“And, well, I have a lot of money. A lot. So I buy things with it. Like this car.”
“Are you guys, you know, big?”
“We played at the Olympics. We sold out Madison Square Garden in less than five minutes. Turn on the radio,” I answered. She did, and sure enough, there was one of our songs. “This is one of my favorites of ours, it’s called Magic.”
She listened for a while, then nodded in approval. “So you’re a millionaire, then, eh?” With that, my heart sank. Just like all the rest, she was. I couldn’t just be Harry, a normal 19 year old kid. I had to be Harry Styles, member of One Direction, millionaire and womanizer. I had to be someone I’m not. I gulped. “Yeah,” I said, after a while.
She laughed, now, finally. After what seemed like ages of me bragging. “Good. I don’t feel so bad about stealing your pizza and your band aids.” I smiled, too, despite myself. For some reason, as she said that, a weight lifted off me. It seemed sort of like she didn’t really care about all the fame and money. Her next words confirmed that. “It doesn’t really matter, though, does it, being famous, if you’re still really shit at FIFA.”
I laughed. I liked her a lot. We hit a bump and she hit her arm against the door, wincing. “Ouch,” she said. I smiled at her, taking my eyes off the road for a second. “Want me to kiss it better?” There was my trademark flirting. I couldn’t help myself. Normally, I just did it for fun, but with her, it actually gave me a few butterflies.
She wrinkled her face. “No way. I hate kisses. They’re awful.”
I looked at her incredulously. How could someone not like kissing? It was one of my favorite pastimes. It was fun. It was exhilarating. I suppose the look on my face gave away my emotions, because she laughed nervously. “How do you even not like kissing? How is that even possible?” I asked, turning back to the road.
“I just do. It’s horrible.” In some sort of weird irony, Kiss You came on the radio.
I started pulling over. My image as a flirt was only going to be confirmed with what I was about to do. “What are you doing?” She asked.
“I’m going to make you like kissing.” I said. I pulled onto the shoulder of the road—as if it mattered, there were no cars anyway—and unbuckled my seatbelt, motioning for her to do the same. I scooted over closer towards the middle and faced her. “I think that the reason you don’t like kissing is that you’ve never had a good kiss before.”
She pondered that a bit, and finally nodded. “Okay, true enough, hotshot.”
I grinned cheekily and put a hand on her cheek, leaning in. She did, too, although she seemed a little taken aback. Our lips were just inches away from each other when I stopped and whispered, “I’m going to change that.” And then her lips were pressing into mine, and I had to admit that for someone who didn’t like kissing, she was a good kisser, and her lips moved in rhythm to mine and I felt her hand on my neck and the other one running through my hair and I thought to myself that I don’t think I’d ever had a straight up kiss as good as this one before. And then I bit down a bit on her lower lip and she opened her mouth and there was her tongue, and I felt hers slip into my mouth a bit and collide with mine. I was just confirming the fact that she was the best kiss I’d had in my life when my phone buzzed. I pulled away and checked it, having been conditioned to reading texts immediately in case they were important, seeing it was from Niall, telling me to get her number so we could see her again. I put it away and looked back at her. She was sitting with her eyebrows raised and a slight smile playing on her lips when I realized that I had just pulled out my phone immediately without a word to her. I laughed nervously. “Uh, sorry. Force of habit. Sometimes it can be really important that I answer right away.”
She laughed. Oh, why hadn’t I noticed that she had such a nice laugh? “It’s fine. Was it important?”
“No, it was just Niall.”
“Oh. Okay.” Changing the subject, she said, “So that was good.”
I smiled. “Have I changed your mind?”
“Absolutely,” She said, leaning in again, when I got an idea. I pulled away. She looked at me confusedly. “You can get another kiss,” I said playfully, “If you come back to the flat now. I think maybe you should talk to Zayn and Niall was sad to see you go. We like you. And plus, I totally want you to stay for dinner because we have far too much food and we could use another person helping us eat it.”
She looked away, pondering, and I wondered if I had overstepped my bounds. She finally smiled at me. “Okay, fine. But only because that was the best kiss I’ve ever had and I really want another one.”
I laughed and looked at her. “Hey, it was mine too. I want another one as much as you do. I rebuckled my seatbelt and turned around, heading back towards the flat.
8/19/13