Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

I stayed quiet for a while as in shock, trying to retain my sensations of Jeanne. When I finally recovered I saw the boys were looking at me puzzled. Then I remembered her annotation on my skin and took my shirt off.

“She has written down something on my back. Please, read it for me,” I muttered showing my shoulder blade to Zayn.

“It says: ‘Puisqu’il faut une fin, puisqu’on ne se verra plus jamais de la vie.’ What does it mean?” He mumbled, frowning his eyebrows.

“Please, use your translator,” I begged him. Zayn slowly began to type grabbing my shoulder. “Louis, please; look at this one for me. It’s Latin…” I handed him the piece of paper from my pocket and my iPhone.

“Because an end is needed, because we shall never see each other again…” Zayn read and I shook my head, dizzy. She said it wasn’t important but it was.

“I have to see her again…” I mumbled.

“Harry…” Liam and Niall murmured in unison.

“I do not love you, Sabidius, I cannot tell you why. This only can I say, I do not love you…–––Louis read quietly. It’s an epigram written by a Roman poet called Martial.”

“It seems she doesn’t want to see you again, Harry,” Liam said giving me a pity look.

“She’s just scared, that’s all…” I asserted trying to convince myself, leaning my head against the window.

“She doesn’t look scared to me…” Louis said glancing at me with my iPhone between his hands. By the smirk on his face I understood he was going through my camera roll.

“Give me that, Louis,” I snapped jumping over him. He dodged me and passed my mobile to Liam, who was sitting in front of him. Niall quickly leapt to his side as well as Zayn.

“Is this her, Harry?–––Liam mumbled pointing at the screen. She’s smashing…”

“Please, Harry, tell us everything!” Louis wilfully shouted lying across the seat.

“Yes, was this before or after sex?” Niall blurted with my iPhone on his hand. I rolled my eyes at him.

“I won’t–––I grumbled. Not now…” Louis straightened up by my side, curious about what I was going to say.

“Why not?” Niall and Zayn snapped, dejected.

“Because I want something more…”

“At least tell us she fulfilled the expectations…” Niall insisted.

“Would I be like this if she hadn’t?”

–.–.–

Was Jeanne scared or simply not interested anymore? I couldn’t shake that question from my head all day long. During sound check my mind was literally elsewhere. Every time I moved a flash from her crossed my thoughts. Even when I didn’t want to I was recalling everything we did together. For moments I remembered something that made me feel hopeful, but another times I was just falling in despair. But although I was in pain I loved every memory.

I knew Jeanne was that sort of girl you don’t fully understand, especially me, not very accustomed to feminine complexity. She had nothing to do with me and what I’m used to. She was practically a Doctor at La Sorbonne; she was into literature, languages, art, psychology… She used to write in scientific magazines, travelled, she was a true cosmopolitan, interested in so many things I knew nothing about. Sure she was hot and loving towards me, but maybe that’s the way she was with every one of her lovers. God, I hated the idea. Yes, morning sex was certainly a milestone in my sex life, well, as every time with her to be sincere, and she seemed quite moved on our last hours together, but perhaps she always was sensitive and emotional, not only with me. No, she had to feel something for me. She was writing a thesis about me; her Fan Fictions were about me; she said I made her change her mind and that I was special. She allowed me to make love to her without a condom… Yes, but there were ten missing condoms on that box she previously used with somebody else… I was going mental.

The ‘Stade de France’ was on the opposite side of the city and God knows it was the only thing preventing me to run to her. I had nothing more on my mind. When we came back to the hotel, still so far away from her flat, the boys left me with Louis, hoping I would tell him something else. I sat with him under the strict supervision of Paul in the distance, by then extremely tired of us. I tried to stick to the highlights but with that alone it already seemed just too much.

“Wait, wait,” Louis told me after my twenty minutes’ speech. I saw that Machiavelli’s look on his face. “Let me get this straight–––he rubbed his hands. You met her at the bookstore and she gave you the brush off… You chased her by the streets of Paris and you escaped a police rampage together… Then you walked around La Sorbonne, the underground blew her skirt off and you were able to catch a sight of her bottom…” I nodded casually. “Then she helped a pregnant lady and suggestively sucked on a lolly…–––he snickered. And then you walked her home, she told you she’s a commie and that we’re capitalist evil…God, I adore her!” He grumbled and I glared at him. “No, no, no; please, don’t kill me!–––he teased me and I threw him a slap in the air. Well, you were almost dying because of the feels, you kissed her and she didn’t kick you ass; then you made it to her amazingly stylish attic where she lives by herself with her little terrace but no cat…–––he pouted. Then you started to shag…” I gave him a lop-sided glance. “Sorry, ‘make love’–––he corrected himself in sarcasm. After that logically you got hungry and ordered sushi… She opened the door half-naked––for those who say being a delivery boy sucks…” I glared again. “OK, sorry–––he smirked. You felt jealous as hell and then you eat, you drank and became a bit tipsy, and she told you that you have that ‘je ne sais quoi,’ that she’s synaesthetic, so she’s ultra perceptive, and that she’s a nude art model… Getting hot here–––he wiggled his eyebrows and I rolled my eyes at him. Then you fucked her again, sorry, ‘made full love’ to her and then you went to sleep…” I nodded. God, he was exhausting. “The next day you woke up alone and went through her stuff looking around for a picture of a guy you resemble to, but instead you found your own photos on her wall, her thesis over the desk and the receipt from the day she met you in London more than three years ago… Then she came back dressing as Audrey Hepburn with sunflowers and fresh bread…–––he said pensively. I would have fall right there,” He asserted and I glanced away but let him carry on. He was just trying my patience. “Well, you had breakfast and she read the paper… But then she filled up the bath and worked her aquatic ‘je ne sais quoi’ on you… If you give me more details I promise I won’t say a word.” I rolled my eyes again, defeated. “OK, I’m not to be trusted on discretion… OK, you say ‘she’s like a painting,’ ‘you have to see her;’ yes, I do. I definitely do–––he pointed out. You ordered sushi and again she opened the door barely dressed to the guy who’s constantly waiting for her to ring, and to make matters worse she addressed the bloke in Japanese… So you asked her about languages and found out she has slept with half Europe, which is perfectly fine… The only problem was that you got ‘oh, so jealous’ because everybody wants to fuck her and perform some other ungodly stuff on her…–––he giggled. Then she took you in her Vespa to visit the most famous cemetery in the world but you were not aware of the fact… Pal, you better start studying… So, you visited Proust’s grave and she talked to you about a swan, a sexual orchid named Cattleya and levity of desire, and then you came back to her fancy attic and she made you a Spanish soup her former lover taught her besides God only knows how many other things, because we all know these Spanish people have quite a reputation. Then she read you her thesis until you fell asleep… Oh, boy…–––he sighed, drying an imaginary sweat from his forehead. Well, to make things short, you woke up, fucked her in her sleep, sorry, you ‘made sweet love’ to her while in Morpheus’ arms, you fell in love, she made you a smoothie, then she wrote some goodbye note on your shoulder and dismissed Harry Styles… God, I love her too!” He shouted, ecstatic, lifting his fists. I shook my head ‘no.’

“Why do I tell you things?”

“Because I’m this cute–––he pouted pointing at his face. Best thing about all this: It sounds excerpted from a book or a movie… or, better, a Fan Fiction! Forty-eight hour locked with a beautiful girl in a Parisian attic…” He was right but I couldn’t restrain a sad look. “Oh, come on, Harry. Lit it up, mate… Man, she truly affected you… Look at you, you have that look on your face…–––he mumbled. Well, downside is: Everybody wants a piece of you. Everybody… but you go and fall for the single girl capable of resisting your charms. This story is so you it’s scary.”

“I know she feels the same; she’s just fighting it,” I said exercising what they call ‘wishful thinking.’

“Harry, Jeanne seems like the sort of girl who knows what she wants–––he cautiously remarked. If she’d want you she’d have told you.”

“She told me she wants me this very morning…” I muttered.

“During sex?–––he raised his eyebrows. It doesn’t count.”

“Yes, it counts! I know how she is but it was me there with her…–––I blurted, annoyed. I know she wants me as much as I want her… She told me I taste like peaches…” I grinned, crossing my arms.

“Peaches?” Louis snapped.

“Every time I touch her…” He chuckled, rolling his eyes at me.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I’m not…–––I mumbled. My head tells me one thing but my heart says another…”

“But you want to give it a try anyway, don’t you?” He knows me too well.

“I do,” I stated.

“Well, trust your heart and don’t talk to Liam or he’ll make you change your mind,” he stated.

The boys were pretty excited about my affair, so when Louis told them what she said about desire Zayn thought it could be the key to understand her attitude although it was pretty clear to me. She didn’t seem to do anything beyond desire. But the boys were the boys and it was impossible to get rid of them even if I wanted to…

I kept the same black clothes I wore with her during the concert. After the show I was feeling quite gloomy. What was she doing at those moments? Was she thinking about me? Was she lying in bed without me? I brushed my hand by my torso up to my heart, jumping inside my chest. I tilted my head and checked again the screen of my laptop. No alerts. I glanced away.

Soon later Zayn came to my room with his own laptop. He knew I’d never read Proust no matter how important it was so he looked for a film, and found it. We called the rest of the boys and they joined us for a late session. We were trying to behave ourselves so we got just a bottle of vodka. The film was called ‘Swann In Love,’ starring by Jeremy Irons, quite an olden film from 1984. I wasn’t even born then. My mum was a teenager… But there we were, trying to solve Swann’s enigma. A French-German artsy film was not what we’re accustomed to, but Ornella Muti was a total babe.

I found it funny because I truly got to understand the first chapter of ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’ when Harry asks Laila if she fancies losers. Swann seemed quite a loser but his obsession and jealousy provided him a certain particular dignity and sense of tragedy. He surely was everyone’s jester but I liked the guy. And when the episode of the Cattleya arrived, well, I felt as such a fool. Jeanne was so right about it. I didn’t realise back then but it clearly resembled a cunt, and I succumbed to it unknowingly as poor Swann. As the film progressed I noticed the boys were actually enjoying it and I wondered if it was pure empathy towards me, in which case I was thankful for it. But I never imagined a serious book could be that kinky so it surprised us for good.

By the end of the film I was feeling quite miserable, not as much as Swann but near, and in the same amazing city as him. God, it couldn’t be a coincidence… Although we were all pretty wasted, I could tell that last scene with Swann on the courtyard discreetly informing the Duchess of Guermantes about his terminal illness affected some sensibilities around. We all should learn from a true gentleman, especially Zayn and Louis. Between exhaustion, vodka and dejection I got the most brilliant idea ever. The boys didn’t seem to care after the first mention, but after the second I realised they didn’t support me on that one at all. Soon Niall was sitting on my stomach and Zayn ran to the bathroom following Liam’s instructions.

“You can’t tattoo it!” He shouted trying to force me into senses.

“Why not?” I grumbled wrestling with Niall. They needed much more than him to put me down. Louis was standing on a corner.

"Because it's too sad!” Niall retorted.

“Hold him, Niall–––Liam said grabbing my legs. Zayn, come on; the wet sponge!” He hurled.

“No, please, no. Don’t erase it!” I groaned.

“Harry, it’s for your own good–––Niall said holding my hands above my head. We can’t trust you on this.”

“Please, don’t erase it–––I wept. It’s the last thing I have from her.”

“It’s not–––Liam said. Hold him, boys!” Zayn had come out of the bathroom with a soapy sponge on his hand and was tugging at my T-shirt.

“I can’t watch this,” Louis mumbled looking away as the boys made me face down.

“Please, don’t do it, Zayn,” I pleaded.

“I took a photo, mate–––he said. It’s better this way…” As I felt the wet sponge grazing my shoulder I sank my face on the mattress. The tact of Jeanne’s fingers flooded my mind, her body near me, the trace of the tip of the pen running through my skin. It had been one memorable, sensual moment somehow I wanted to keep forever even though it was her way to say goodbye to me. I didn’t know what she was writing back then…

“No, stop…” I complained, but it was too late already. Zayn wiped the tinted soap with a towel and they let me go. I was so annoyed but by the look on their faces I could tell they didn’t enjoy the task either. One by one they patted my back pitifully.

“I’ll send you the photo later, mate… Sorry, “ Zayn muttered.

“I’m so sorry, mate. Now have a little sleep,” Liam said as the four walked towards the door.

“Night, mate,” Niall mumbled and Louis gave me one last look. I glanced down and rushed to the bathroom.

I knew deep down everyone was thinking I wanted her because she’d given me the brush off, but I didn’t care. I looked at the red mark on my back in the mirror, shook my head and finally walked into the shower.

–.–.–

Notes

Gutted Harry: my favourite Harry! And sassy Louis is back! I laughed my heart out writing that speech. God, I was just missing him. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. A lot more is coming up because the boys are the boys... You don't want to miss it.

Well, I keep shouting out my favourite reading:

Big Hot Mess
Permanent
Study Of Life And Love
Hey Jude III
Love At First Type
Mainstream
In A Heartbeat
Unnoticed
Over Again
Snake Eyes
Involved
And Back Again
Feeling Fire

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