‘This precious book of love’

Laila’s POV

I carefully took off the jumper and put it over my bed. I contemplated it for a second before I started to remove my dress. It smelled as Harry, as my skin. And then I understood Bernie’s words. I didn’t want that smell to go away. I wanted to stay like this forever, in that ecstatic, blissful state, as if I was soaring the surface of the earth. It was so late when he accompanied me to find a taxi. And I wanted so badly to stay between his arms it was very difficult to finally remove myself from his embrace.

I decided to shower in the morning and put on his jumper back. He insisted for me to have it and I couldn’t say no. The night was quite chilly when we came out from his flat. But that kiss he gave me before I jumped into the taxi would have been enough for me. As I placed my head over the pillow my mind was flood by the memories of the recent hours, and so my body. Everything irrupted back with so much power I thought I’d never be able to sleep again. But slowly my eyelids began to drop and my body surrendered to the exhaustion, and I felt into a placid dream I knew would be filled by remnants of the day. Too many emotions. I was sure I’d dream about him and I did.

In my dream I was standing on top of a stair as Harry was downstairs, waiting for me. Water surrounded me everywhere and impelled me towards him but, at the same time, forced me to stay in my place, preventing me to move. I meditated under the shower and simply knew it had something to do with our previous dialogue. I could have asked Georgiana for a more accurate interpretation but, as I wasn’t displeased by the feeling I woke up with, I just let it go.

Harry was late for our first lecture and left to the Library in the break. Bernie and I went to the cafe for a cup of tea and some biscuits. As I told her what happened the two prior days between Harry and I her eyes widened.

“I can’t believe you hadn’t tell me before, you little bawd,” she recriminated me, playing the offended.

“I didn’t have the opportunity, Bernie.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter because you are telling me now–––she said. So, how was it? I want to know everything.”

“Bernie, I won’t tell you everything,” I explained discreetly.

“How could you not–––she snapped, with the morbid fascination Harry generates?”

“Drop it, Bernie–––I blurted, so annoyed. Now I won’t tell you anything else. And what would Zayn think if he knew you feel like this about one of his best friends? Your remark is so entirely wrong.”

“Oh, where is your sense of humour, lady?–––she asked with irony. Well, don’t give me any detail but at least explain me why you went down on him in his kitchen…” She carried on crossing her arms over her chest. Then I realised I couldn’t tell her my fundamental reason, because she ignored Gemma and Louis’ status.

“I was unable to restrain myself…” I simply said, and it didn’t feel bad because it was basically the truth. Gemma and Louis’ situation had only been the trigger point.

“Mmh, Harry is allowing Hot Laila to set free–––she laughed, amused. I knew you were in there, sister,” she spoke to my chest. She was so over the top. “Well, but tell me, please, why haven’t you two fucked yet.”

“We are enjoying ourselves–––I said with conviction; there’s no need to rush.”

“Hmm, now is when you decide to slow things down. Interesting attitude–––she asserted, resting her chin on her fist. There’s some wisdom there, I can see it; because once you have sex everything else becomes sort of excluded…” She was speaking seriously for once.

“This conversation is surreal,” I stated, bursting into laughs.

“Yes, it is–––she admitted, smiling skeptical of her own words. Let’s speak about friday night. Your little rendez-vous with George Daniel…” She grimaced, raising her eyebrows repeatedly. I could murder her, comme d’habitude.

“Oh, bitch. You better shut up about that,” I said with my menacing finger.

–.–.–

Yes. I used to have a crush on George, the 1975’s drummer, but that was not what I had in my mind when we arrived to the venue on friday night. We were all there as the previous saturday at Zayn’s party, but things felt absolutely different. Bernie and Zayn were dating now, as Marianne and Liam. I always liked Marianne even though she was a bit bipolar. Georgiana was sort of seeing Niall and he seemed happy with just that. I guess he thought things between them could evolve into something else. I also knew what was really going on between Gemma and Louis, although they acted as their usual selves. And then was Harry and I, and that amazing week we had spent together. I was ecstatic just by looking at him, absolutely mesmerised by his presence and his allure. The things we had done to one another, the things we said in the past few days were constantly in my mind, leaving no room for anything else, except for our plans for the holidays. But the greatest feeling of all was to be there, with him.

It was a small venue compared with Brixton Academy, where I had last seen them perform. That secret gig felt almost as their first shows in London, where some friend of Bobby introduced us once to the band, and I think Georgiana even shared, let’s say, some drinks with Adam, the guitarist, although she never confirmed the fact. The place was crowded with people of the music industry, some of them were actually Niall and Zayn’s co-workers from the recording studio, some others were producers, but mainly were musicians, songwriters and others sound engineers. The boys moved around the venue greeting everyone. I never expected for them to be so well connected, considering the short time they’ve been living in London, but they seemed to know everybody around.

I was rocking a pair of leather trousers from Ganni, black ankle boot and a My Bloody Valentine’s t-shirt. After we left our coats, we got some few drinks and vodka shots and went to the front of the stage. After a while the lights went black and a luminous square appeared in the back. The show was about to start. Harry was holding me from behind and smiled at me when he noticed my thrill. I was kissing him when they started playing ‘Settle Down,’ my back on his chest, my hand on his neck. When I looked around I saw everyone else was hugging, even Gemma and Louis, discreetly. Sure; he was ‘protecting’ her. I smiled to myself. Everything felt so right.

The 1975 were electric. They played their entire repertory and a few songs from they upcoming second record, and anyone seemed able to stop jumping and dancing. Our group was extremely engrossed at the moment, cheering and singing along, Georgiana and Niall in the front row moving their arms to the sound. Matty grabbed her hand and kissed it. She knew how to get everyone’s attention with that tank top and no bra. He announced their last song of the night, and then there were the first chords of ‘Sex.’ The venue seemed to tremble at the common acclamation.

You’ve got your tongue pierced, anyway.
You’re in your high tops, any day.
You’re in your skinny jeans, anyway.
You and your fit friends, anyway.
I’d take them all out any day.
They’ve all got back combs, anyway.
You’ve all got boyfriends, anyway.

We were all nodding to the rhythm as the last verse began, and a last frenzy took us over and started to jump up and down in unison. Bernie and Zayn were by our side smiling, one arm in the air, eyes wide shut in ecstasy, as the rest of the group, bouncing when I opened my eyes and glanced around. And then I felt it. It stroke me like a lightening bolt. It was a moment of pure joy, that sort of moment that you know is material to memories, one of the moments that stick with you for the rest of your life, the summit of so many different sensations you want to be able to recall when you are dying. For a second my mind was dazed and I stood still at the centre. Harry must had perceived me because he slowly opened his eyes and reached his arms out for me, pulling me into his warm chest. Everything seemed to stop until I heard the crowd cheering up intensely all around us.

Bernie, Marianne and I went to the toilets a while after that. I felt flustered and my cheeks were blushed. I leant on the washbasin and decided to rest there for a minute. Bernie insisted to stay with me but it was nonsensical, because I was feeling fine. I just needed a bit of air and tranquility. I washed my face with fresh water and looked at my reflection on the mirror. I was still pinkish but I thought it suited my mood. As I finally walked out checking at my iPhone I bumped into someone. It took me a moment to react, looking up.

“I love your shirt,” the guy I bumped into said.

“It’s an original. It was my mother’s…” I mumbled when I realised who he was, nobody else than George Daniel, himself. My eyes must had widened and I had to make a great effort preventing for my jaw to drop.

“Your mother’s?–––he chuckled. Well, she must be an amazing lady,” he said and I felt so terribly embarrassed.

“She sort of is…” I muttered, ashamed, looking around.

“I know you,” he stated, surprising me.

“That sentence makes so much sense all the way around,” I managed to retort, containing a giggled. He laughed.

“No, I do–––he claimed. I know you. Didn’t Xander introduced us once, a long ago?” He asked referring to Bobby’s friend.

“Yeah, he actually did.”

“Did you come with him? I think he is around somewhere,” he said glancing behind me.

“No, I didn’t. I haven’t been around his circle of friends since I broke up with my ex.”

“Hmm. You broke up with your boyfriend–––he said in a suggestive tone, leaning a bit closer to me. So may I buy you a drink?” He grinned.

“Haven’t you a girlfriend?” I asked him crossing my arms.

“Things between Jessie and I haven’t been quite well lately–––he explained leaning his shoulder on the wall next to us, crossing his arms as well. We’ve been touring a lot this year.”

“I understand,” I mumbled. I understood that life’s a bitch. He glanced directly into my eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name, love,” he whispered after a brief pause.

“My name is Laila.”

“Well, that mother of yours sure has a hell of a good taste, let me tell you–––he whispered again. So, do you want that drink?”

“I’m sorry but I’d have to decline it,” I said, relaxing my body.

“Are you with somebody?” He grinned.

“Yes,” I chuckled.

“Oh, that is too bad–––he snickered, straighten it up. Is the lucky lad around?”

“He is, yeah,” I laughed. The situation was too surreal.

“So you are serious,” he observed.

“I think so; well, I wish so…”

“Hmm; it’s a new fling–––he meditated. Well, give me your mobile.” He reached his hand out.

“My mobile? What for?”

“So I could give you my number, in case things doesn’t work out with the lad.”

“Well, I think it won’t hurt anybody…” I said to myself handing my iPhone to him. He started to add his number and finally handed it back to me. I smiled and when he was about to speak again I felt a presence behind me.

“Laila,” Harry said, placing a hand on my waist, making me jump.

“Hey; aren’t you that guy from Holmes Chapel, with the band?” George said pointing at him and then turned towards me, grinning. “Is this your boyfriend?” He asked. Was I in the position to answer to that, openly, in front of Harry? Was Harry my boyfriend?

“Yeah,” Harry spoke, I guessed answering to the first question.

“You were good, mate–––George said with a board smile, tapping Harry’s shoulder. How are things going? I heard you transferred here. Do you have a record contract yet?” Harry's attitude softened, and he snickered.

“We have a gig next month and we are recording an EP soon.” I didn’t know that. I suppose there were plenty of things I continued to ignore about Harry and his life.

“Nice–––George exclaimed and he sounded sincere. We’ll be in London by that time. I’d love to come and see you, mate. Why don’t you ask Laila for my number and you give me the details later?” He said grabbing Harry by the shoulder.

“Sure,” Harry answered, glancing at me from the side. I wished for the earth to swallow me.

“Well, I’ll see you around, then–––he said, leaving, tapping Harry’s shoulder one last time. Lovely to meet you again, Laila.” He lightly grabbed my elbow.

“What was that?–––Harry snapped, confused, when George went away. Did he give you his number? Were you two flirting?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled looking him into the eyes. He seemed frankly disturbed.

“You don’t know if you were flirting with some rockstar…” He stated, crossing his arms.

“I wasn’t flirting with him–––I firmly claimed. His attitude towards me was sort of unexpected.”

“Well, do you like him?” He blurted and I couldn’t restrain a gesture of uneasiness. How could he think that? “Will you call him?” He carried on.

“Of course I won’t,” I snapped, but I got his number, so I had to admit myself it was a quite confusing situation. Perhaps Harry’s annoyance made sense. I stepped closer to him, cupped his jaw around my hand and bit his chin. His body relaxed under my contact, and he slid his hands around my waist.

“I’m sorry. That was far too strange,” he murmured to my mouth.

“It was, I know. I’m sorry. I’ll delete it.”

“Don’t.”

–.–.–

Notes

Hmm, I'm guessing Harry is jealous... Don't be, silly boy! I'm sure she's mad about you...

Hello, everyone! I'm sorry I haven't updated in such a long time but I've been very engrossed in writing this baby:

Dreaming Of You

Check it out because these two stories are related! It's going to be a wild ride! So much fun around here, hehe.

Love you all! <3 <3 <3 xoxo