Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

It was Thursday night and I had already managed to ruin everything. I rushed upstairs repeating Louis’ warning from Portugal in my head. It was so obvious the possessive boyfriend wasn’t going to work on Jeanne, but why couldn’t I realise before opening my big mouth and act as a complete arse?

“Jeanne…” I muttered, pushing the door of her bedroom open. She was sitting on her bed, looking through the window. The light of her bedside table was on but with a neckerchief set above to dim the brightness.

“Leave,” she sighed. I hated myself. I had pissed ‘unupsetable Jeanne’ off. Nice one, Harry.

“Please, Jeanne, let me stay–––I mumbled as I got inside, approaching her shyly. I’m sorry, Jeanne, I didn’t mean to. I don’t categorise the world between famous and not famous people. I’m not that shallow,” I tried to explain myself. She slowly turned her head towards me, adorably biting her tongue. “I’m not even fond of the concept of being famous at all. I just got scared…” I sat by the end of the bed. Jeanne gestured to speak, but kept it quiet, half shutting her eyes.

“Do you know what happens to you, Harry?–––she asked after a moment. You are used to everything turning around you, and you cannot deal with the fact of somebody having a life beyond you…” Jeanne said in an unaffected tone. I deserved that and more. She was sparing my fucking life again.

“It’s true,” I stated, coming closer. What else could I say? She was right. I am this self-centred asshole, and I was going to do everything in my power to make amends. “I like you, Jeanne–––I admitted quietly, trying to look into her eyes. I can’t deal with so many facts about you because I never met anyone like you.”

“What did you expect from me? To live in a closet?–––she asked. I never claimed to be different than I am. I told you right away but you get shook up every time.” There was a hint of frustration in her voice, and if I was scared before I just became scared squared. I couldn’t lose her that way.

“Jeanne, I like you,” I repeated thoughtfully.

“And I like you too,” Jeanne protested. My heart bounced inside my chest. “What do you want me to say? That I regret it?” Her eyes were fixed on mine. “I don’t regret it,” she shook her head. I instinctively glanced down. “I don’t regret any of them because this is my life and I chose to be with them and I’m not taking it back. If you can’t deal with that you can leave,” she pointed at the door.

“I don’t want to leave,” I claimed.

“Then don’t judge me.” I could never judge her. It wasn’t about her but about me. But how could I explain that without sounding as a fool?

“I don’t judge you, Jeanne–––I whispered, grabbing her chin between my fingers. It makes me feel… You seem to have everything so figured out. You are so self-confident…”

“And what would you prefer?–––she asked, confused. Would you prefer an insecure doll who confuses her life with yours? I don’t think you find that attractive.” She was right again. “But you can’t manage this either and I’m the one who has to bear you. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” I blurted, turning away. My attitude was utterly nonsensical and she was well aware of that. “I suppose I’d prefer not to feel as an arse when I’m around you…”

“Is it me who makes you feel as an arse?” She mused.

“No,” I had to admit.

“So you are being unfair with me,” Jeanne observed. Damned clever woman.

“You tell me those things…” I mumbled, dejected, returning my gaze to her.

“You insisted for me to tell you,” she said folding her arms beneath her chest.

“Haven’t you read Proust at all?”

“Seriously, Proust? Now?” She pointed out, crossed.

“Don’t you see there’s this wicked pleasure in listening to you speaking about other men?” Did I just say that? God, literature was starting to affect me.

“Why?”

“Because I care!” I snapped. Jeanne gave me the strangest look.

“I can listen to you talking about other women.”

“Because you don’t care about me!” God, I was just making it worse and worse.

“Oh, I see–––she shrugged. Of course. You are so young…” I glared at her.

“What does my age have to do with this?”

“You believe jealousy is a form of showing caring. You think because I can listen to you I don’t care about you but you are wrong, your focus is so wrong–––she explained, slightly shaking her head ‘no.’ I care about you but not about your sexual conquests because they were your decision, and I have nothing to say on your decisions. I wouldn’t take one of them away–––Jeanne stated. I wouldn’t change anything because it’s what makes you who you are, as my history makes me who I am. If you claim to like me then you should embrace who I am instead of wanting to change me.” My jaw was dropping. What was all that hippie crap?

“Do you really believe what you say?” I mumbled, disconcerted.

“Of course I do–––she squinted, offended. I had a healthy relationship with ex girlfriends and former lovers of the men I’ve been with. Even when I was fond of them, because what is truly important is not the past but how you behave when you are around… The past is just a shadow that is there but somehow it is not. I know it could be terrifying, but it depends on the way you perceive it. I don’t feel menaced by shadows.”

“Because you are so self-confident,” I said.

“But that is nothing special. It should be a requirement to live–––Jeanne joked. And you are pretty confident too.” She pushed me playfully and I relaxed a bit, grabbing her by the wrist to bring her closer.

“Not when you tell me you shagged a 6-foot-something German,” I joked too, trying to take the awkwardness away. But I wasn’t fond of the idea.

“It was last summer,” Jeanne murmured to my lips, gripping my jaw. “I think he’s getting engaged, and he is out of the picture. Of course I care about him because he’s such a great, talented guy, very sweet…” I tilted my head at her. “OK,” she said quietly, and I kissed her lips. “I’m here with you,” she whispered. Yes, but what about the future? What about next summer? I knew it was foolish to obsess about that then… I had almost ruined everything already. I just needed to play along.

Jeanne sat on my lap, straddling me. I automatically started to harden beneath her, sensing her nearness through the thin lace of her knickers. I led my hands to her bum and rubbed her against me yearningly. I twitched and moaned pushing my head back and she did the same. That was our way to make everything right. And it was perfect and touching but it also could be rough and needy.

We fell against the mattress panting furiously. We hadn’t even removed our clothes but just pushed them aside enough to the task. I had absolutely lost the track of time. It should be around midnight. A light breeze was coming by the window so we cuddled up beneath the duvet. I wrapped my arms around Jeanne as I kept kissing the top of her head. I knew what Zayn said, although being so sexual was kind of scary. But when we spoke on something I ended up freaking about it… I could only think of one thing I was sure about then.

“Do you have a nickname for me?” Jeanne snickered devilishly, trying to dissimulate. “I know you have one–––I beamed. You said it out loud in your dreams the other night…” She giggled, squirming by my side. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It wasn’t meditated,” she muttered, taking a finger to her lips. I was right. “It came up talking with Lolo the other day…” So she used to speak about me with her best friend. That felt nice… For sure I spoke with mine about her almost all the time, and they sort of talk about her on their own, and even jack off to her stories but that was another matter.

“I love it–––I said resting my chin on her head. Nobody has ever called me that, and I’ve been called in many names, let me tell you.” She laughed. “So from now on I want you to call me Mouth,” I stated.

“Is that a command?” She asked with a mocking smirk, coming to look me in the eye.

“You are my geisha–––I said. You shall do as it pleases me.”

“And don’t you have a nickname for me?”

“No.” Jeanne pouted, pretending to be sad. “But just because I love your name,” I boldly claimed near her lips, lightly tapping her nose with my finger.

“You sound like one of my characters…” She frowned.

“Yeah, I know.”

–.–.–

I wasn’t fond of the idea at all. I trusted Jeanne when she told me he was out of the picture, but it was hard not to freak out when I realised who was calling her next morning.

“I’m sorry, I have to answer this,” she said standing up from the sunlounger in which we were resting beneath the willow, though she didn’t seem nervous. She just dropped her book and walked away two steps, and then I listened to it. “Na, du…” Jeanne spoke in the most seductive tone. I understood it was him, that he had her number, the number she had refused to give me, and that those words were something as ‘hey, you.’ Anger ran through my body, but not against her but against me for being so smitten with her.

God, they were going to live in the same city at some point of the next year. The mere concept pierced my head. I turned around to watch her walking around the garden talking to the guy. She was so hot with those high-waisted shorts and a light blouse tucked inside. Why was he calling her? He had already replied her tweet. Maybe he was just very formal, as she said before. He had a girlfriend after all, and she was pretty. Not as Jeanne, as the photos on Google showed, but good enough. And he could be tall and fit but he seemed quite dumb to be sincere. Not that I had a problem with people with cow looks.

To my surprise the call was astonishingly brief. Just a few minutes later Jeanne was standing by my side again, pushing her straw hat against the top of her head.

“Sorry. It was Manu–––she frowned. I had to answer and congratulate him personally. He’s a nice person,” she explained. I loved she were so proper. I held my arms out to her.

“It is fine–––I mumbled as I nestled her onto my chest. I get it.” I didn’t, probably because by that time I wasn’t close to any of my exes, but that was more my issue than hers. I wasn’t the measure of everything and I needed to learn that fast.

–.–.–

Anyhow, when Jeanne went to the kitchen to prepare lunch I sneaked outside. I was sure I was making a huge mistake but I needed to talk to somebody.

“Hey, mate. I thought you would be shagging,” Louis snickered on the other side.

“Shut up and listen to me, you, rascal,” I grumbled, almost regretting it in advance.

“OK, it is serious. I’m all ears. I promise not to tease–––he claimed solemnly. What happened?”

“Jeanne…–––I muttered reluctantly. Jeanne and the German goalkeeper… They know each other…”

“Well, we already knew that, Harry,” he ironised. God, what was I doing? I was digging my own grave talking to Louis about this.

“You promised no teasing,” I grunted.

“OK. Well, I suppose she told you under which circumstances they met, then.”

“Yeah, and I don’t like them,” I mumbled.

“Somehow I sense it involves you in some surreal way…”

“Yeah–––I said. They shagged after she watched ‘This Is Us’…” I spoke quietly.

“They what?” Louis snapped. And I was so stupid to repeat it.

“They shagged…”

“They shagged!” Louis muffled a shriek. There he was. Adieu to that promise. “El, as you thought! Jeanne and Neuer shagged!” I heard him shout. What the hell?

“Louis, no!” But it was too late already. Everybody was going to know about it. I shook my head, covering my eyes.

“Mate, that’s great! Have you seen the guy?” Louis spoke all excited after a second. I rolled my eyes. “El hadn’t spoken about anything else in all week…”

“I don’t care if your girlfriend is a trampy–––I groaned. Forget what I just said.”

“No, now you are telling me everything–––he corrected me. Why is this bothering you, Harry? You aren’t a sister of mercy yourself… Did she see ‘This Is Us’ last week?” He chuckled.

“No, about a year ago…–––I squinted. But he just called her. She gave him her number… The one she refused to give me. The one I have because Stan is a manipulative motherfucker as you are…”

“Do you want to hear my theory?” Louis asked hurriedly in a cheeky voice. I sighed.

“I say yes only because you are going to tell me anyway…”

“I bet she was all turned on by your sexy shoulder movements in the film and then crossed the guy and he was OK, and then she fucked him senseless thinking about you and she couldn’t give him the complete brush off because she’s quite proper and felt sort of bad for using him,” he ventured. I was hoping for that, well, not the ‘fucked him senseless’ part but the other. “And then the guy courted her but finally gave up on her but calls her from time to time because she’s nice, and hot, admit it–––Louis giggled. And he’s German and quite proper himself and he probably takes shags pretty seriously because you know how these Germans are… But you are mad about the whole number thing, and what I should say about that is that Jeanne––beside hot, proper and nice––is clever and must have seen tons of photos of you glued to that mobile of yours as a total jerk and realised you won’t let her be during those two weeks because, admit it, it’s what would have happened if she had given you her number…” I stood in total shock.

“Louis, are you sure you are not concerted with Jeanne?” I managed to mumble.

“Come on, mate. It happens that I’m a fucking genius mistakenly confused with a boy bander,” Louis joked, but then his voice changed. “Harry, that woman is by some strange force of nature completely mad about you. Forget about the rest.”

–.–.–

Notes

I-clearly-bit-off-more-than-I-could-chew Harry is in tha house! And he's not going anywhere... Do you think he really got what Jeanne meant? Or he's just simply trying not to freak too much? I bet @EleanorRigby fangirled at Jeanne's speech! And then @softballchick fangirled at Manu's call. Cow looks! Yes, that's wishful thinking, Harry. Keep dreaming he's not the Adonis that he truly is xD And I hope you enjoyed Harry's call to Louis too! I didn't think it helped much though... Louis' mum wedding is getting nearer and Harry would have to face the boys!

I always tell you this is your story now, and I mean it. We are in the same crossroads than Harry regarding to Jeanne. Now that we are top of the pops, do we change Jeanne to make her fit the average taste or do we keep her unique, independent, and strong as she is? Do you think we could get more votes with this unconventional story just as it is? I want to hear your voice on this matter! I'm sure you have something to say about this and I can't wait to know... :)

Thank you so much, my friends, for sharing your time with this story. You make me work harder. I truly love you all.

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