Harry’s POV

“So his fans…–––Jimmy resumes the interview. They got fooled a lot back then…”

“Because they were young and very much in love with this gentleman,” Jeanne retorts, pointing at me.

“But weren’t you fooling them too?–––he complains, shaking his hands theatrically. Should they be mad at you?” She breathes in, lightly raising her eyebrows, as she moistens her lips. I know this is a critical moment, but she’s so collected I can’t read her.

“It may look like I did, but I wasn’t…” She explains. It’s strange to listen to Jeanne trying to explain her behaviour, because she never cared about anyone’s opinion. I wonder why she bothers so much with this. It might not show but I can’t help but feel it worries her. “When I learnt about Harry’s Fan Fiction it totally captivated me. With my stories I was trying to understand what they felt while writing him, the process within their minds…” I squirm, distraught. It’s not that I don’t know it, but I can’t get used to the fact that she didn’t do it because of me, simply because of me, as the rest did… “It would break my heart if they do because over the years I’ve grown very fond of them. It was all about them…” Yeah, yeah, I get it. I was just the object.

“And what did you conclude on your thesis?”

“That they’re amazing, creative, full of life and things to tell the world–––she says, really engrossed in, her hair lightly bouncing around her face as she speaks with such a passion. This society only cares about teenagers as potential consumers, but they have a voice too. I wanted to listen to what they were saying, what they were feeling, their worries, their fears and hopes…”

“You say teenagers are only considered as potential consumers but you want to sell them books too. Isn’t it a paradox?” Jimmy muses, rubbing his chin. He warned he wasn’t going to make things easy for Jeanne, and he’s true to his words for a fact.

“Both ideas aren’t in conflict–––Jeanne claims thoughtfully. I want them to write their own stories and have book deals. I know how good they can be… We can have more than one book at a time.”

“Why did you decide to keep the synesthetic genius?–––he carries on. No one would have recognised the story if it wasn’t for that trait…” He's not acknowledging the studio itself gave the alarm. It would probably be bad publicity.

“That was my publisher, Cora Coxon…–––she explains, giggling a bit. When we were working on the story I told her we should give Sam a mild case of autism or Asperger, but she’s a bit stubborn and was like ‘synaesthetic, synaesthetic, synaesthetic,’” she emphatically pokes her palm. God, what a weird word, but it sounds so bloody hot coming from her lips. I’m sure she didn’t put on red lipstick not to be too intimidating.

“And?”

“Synaesthetic he remained,” she asserts, amused, slightly lifting her hands.

“What about synesthesia?–––Jimmy inquires, puzzled. I mean, synesthetic people cross sensorial information in a weird way. You have it. How is it? Is it good? Does it happen every time?” I look at Jeanne, curious, as I still remember all the times we talked about this at her attic in Paris. It always fascinated me.

“Sometimes it may be too much information for your senses, because when you have a texture you get a flavour, so your brain gets overloaded–––she says, gesticulating. There are days in which for some unknown reason you are ultra perceptive. But in my case, it doesn’t happen every time or with everything, so when it does I treasure it.” I can’t help but freeze in my seat. She didn’t tell me that…

“And what about Harry?” Jimmy asks casually, bending back.

“What about him?” Jeanne squints at him, looking rather confused.

“Have you touched him?” What?

“We have shaken hands,” I intervene, leaning towards Jeanne a little. Such an understatement, as she performed the entire ‘Kama Sutra’ on me… Jimmy doesn’t even imagine that and he’s just teasing, but the last thing I need is to have him asking us to touch each other in front of the world.

“And how does he taste?” The hell?

“I taste like peaches–––I quickly answer. I asked her before…” Fuck, I’m just making it worse acting unnecessarily sketchy, but God; to pretend we didn’t do what we did is becoming too hard… I reluctantly glimpse at Jeanne, though she seems unaltered. I revealed something sorely personal, but my reaction came from the guts. I should have let her answer… She would have solved the issue conclusively.

“Do you eat peaches?” Jimmy asks her as if it was the obvious question, and I panic and squirm because I’m not sure if he’s speaking about proper peaches. This is becoming too much to handle.

“Not anymore,” Jeanne states, flashing me an almost imperceptible glance, as she moves her hand to feel her elbow. What? Why…? Weren’t peaches her favourite fruit?

“Jeanne, do you have an opinion on the most famous Harry’s Fan Fictions, like ‘After’?” Jimmy drastically changes the subject.

“She has an opinion on everything, though she hardly tells,” I claim, stepping in again. What’s happening to me? I’m being such an arse. I can't help it… I just want to make things easier for her. But again, I look at her and she’s smiling.

“You never give too much, don’t you?” Jimmy observes, glimpsing at her and snickering. Jeanne shakes her head ‘no’ ever so slowly, her little grimace on the lips, hands resting together over her laps as if she hadn’t broken a plate in all her life. My stomach churns. God, she kills me. “And how was this story?”

“Naughty…” She whispers, making my insides tremble. I didn’t know she wanted to play it this way…

“Did you get to read it, Harry?”

“I know there was smut…” I say in my cheekiest grin. We’ll have everybody talking about this tomorrow, and this is exactly what the studio wants. I hope Niall and Erica will watch this. He’ll have a hell of a lot to explain.

“Well, since we knew you were coming tonight we asked people over Twitter if they remember your story with the hashtag #IreadIWish…–––Jimmy explains. You’d be surprised because the response was massive. Not all of them read it, but a lot of people have already become invested in this, as you have a great amount of readers and Harry is Harry.” I chuckle. Not a mention to fanbases… Nice way of overlooking the fact that the fans had deserted me. “I put my interns to work and they found the most interesting among them. Let’s read some.”

#IreadIWish though I had forgotten about it as it was a long time ago. She didn’t sound as a fan but it was well written. I didn’t read her novel but I will now and I can’t wait for the movie.

Apparently I was the only one who didn’t suspect it, as those were Louis’ thoughts exactly. To doubt people comes so easily for him.

#IreadIWish and Venetian Blinds and didn’t realize it could be the same story, as they are very different, though I enjoyed both, and I know the movie will be awesome.

#IreadIWish and all DreamingOfYou’s stories and I’m happy that she made it because she was amazing and a great listener. She helped me to become comfortable with being bisexual so I’ll always be thankful.

The mere mention of her nickname makes the pit of my stomach ache.

#IreadIWish even though I found it a bit too artistic. She seemed more experienced than a regular teenager and we appreciated that. I can’t believe she’s meeting Harry now. I’m sure others deserve it better.

I instinctively twist my mouth, looking into space.

#IreadIWish but it was pretentious and I was right about her. She thought she was better than us. Who did she think she was to spy on us and steal Harry from us? As I say this of course I’ll watch the movie because I don’t want to miss it.

I can’t help but cringe, pushing my head forward. I know those words too well, but I’ll never get used to them. They were supposed to grow up. I can’t let it start again…

#IreadIWish and used to chat a lot with her. She was encouraging and supportive, especially regarding writing. I still write and she makes me want to be better. Maybe someday I’ll have a book deal or a movie deal with Harry too.

“So your nick was DreamingOfYou…–––Jimmy muses suggestively. Of course you didn’t like him.” He winks at me. Yeah, I thought the same, but it was more of me dreaming of her than all the way around. “So these people say a lot of things. Do you want to address some of them, Jeanne?”

“I remember everyone whom I corresponded with, and it makes me very happy to know they are fine and writing, and comfortable being who they are–––Jeanne asserts, overjoyed. They mean very much to me as because of them…” She suddenly glances down, lightly coughing. My heart skips a beat. “As because of them I became the person I am now–––she carries on after a second, looking at Jimmy, who thoughtfully nods at her. It was a life-changing experience.”

“Harry?” He gestures for me to say something. I squirm in my seat. What happened? I know her… I know something happened.

“I think it’s unfair to describe Jeanne as pretentious–––I complain. It’s a great honour to have somebody deciding to listen to you, and willing to get to know you, because it means they care…” I glimpse at her though she’s not looking at me. “But as it happens when you become publicly exposed you get very easy to judge and label. For those who actually know Jeanne she comes across as very grounded and hard-working, and it’s a privilege to work with someone as clever and open-minded as her,” I state and Jimmy raises his eyebrows at me. I don’t care if I distress someone with this. Times have changed. “She didn’t steal me from anyone because, as in a poem I read a while ago, I’m not even my own…” I sense she moves by my side and I look at her, but her expression is transfixed. “This is how life is–––I speak staring into her eyes. I know there are other talented people who wrote stories about me but this is the one I know, and the one whom I want to work with, and I hope people understand…” I turn to glance at Jimmy, as I’m being too damn obvious. “I know she can deal with it but I don’t want her to get hate because of this–––I claim, meaning every word. I want the hate days to be over.” I gesture with my hand.

“You sound like a husband,” Jimmy says, shaking his head. I giggle, glimpsing down. I know him enough to tell he already realised I’m not playing smitten. “So how is Jeanne?”

“You listened to her…” I shrug, and he smiles at me. I glance at Jeanne and can’t help but wonder why she’s frowning. “She’s very positive, always focusing on the people as she just did, while me, on the other hand, I’ve grown a tendency to react to the negative. I guess it’s because I’ve been overexposed.” I shake my head, looking away. “I don’t want her to go through this, because I want her to stay exactly like she is, and I will personally make sure she does.”

“I can take care of myself,” she protests and I come to look back into her eyes.

“I know–––I say, and my voice cracks a bit. But the fact that you can pull from your own chair and open the door for yourself won’t prevent me from trying to be a gentleman as well…” Our stare lingers and her lips part, but she doesn’t say a thing, and it feels weird as hell, though I can’t look away. Where did that speech come from? God, she makes me so weak… She makes me act like a fool all the time.

“If she doesn’t marry you I will…” Jimmy jokes, and somehow his remark makes us react. We are on national television, for God’s sake. People are watching… Jeanne giggles, glimpsing down. Why is this getting so difficult? Did I make her lose her words? What are all these feelings I’m having? I have to stop whatever that’s going on and focus on the interview. “We want to know more about her, so Harry, what are Jeanne’s talents?” His question strikes me to my very bones. God, he’s not helping… Jeanne turns to look at me with a curious expression. Our eyes lock again, and I’m powerless… Something in her gaze just makes me melt… I can’t stop these sensations and images rushing inside my head. That trick contracting her pelvic floor… She made me come at least once just doing that trick. A tingly sensation surges through my whole body. Jeanne smirks devilishly as if she were actually listening to my thoughts, propping her chin on her hand. The blowjobs you give, Jeanne, staring into my eyes… She rolls her hair sensuously and my heart races out of control. The reverse cowgirl… I can replay your beautiful, round bum describing perfect circles on my hips down to the last detail… Jeanne batters her lashes dreamily, and moistens her lips, just waiting. I gulp hard.

“She speaks tons of languages without an accent…” I manage to mutter, dry mouth and still fixed on her eyes, the side of my index grazing my lower lip.

“Jeanne,” Jimmy calls her, making her jump, and she takes her attention away from me. What the hell is happening? I’m lusting after her as never before, but does she want me too? Because right now it feels like she definitely does… Is this even real? “I have a little voice in my earbud telling me you resemble Valentina, the comic character by Guido Crepax. Did I get it right, geek?” He asks, glancing up. Who’s Valentina? While I pat my pockets searching for my iPhone I hear Jeanne telling him she adores the character. I discreetly pull it out and begin to look at Google, as the cameras are not pointing at me. “…All-time beauty, mixture of eroticism and non-threatening feminism…” What? I turn to look at them, confused. Who the hell is talking about Jeanne in those terms? I glimpse at the screen and even if it’s a drawing Valentina makes my crotch tingle. Jeanne is only missing the fringe. Fucking fuck… They already realised she oozes sex appeal... I set the phone away, shaking my head in frustration. What does she do to people? She’s all smiles, just enjoying how everyone drools over her. “I bet you get a lot of compliments–––he tells her. What’s the best compliment a man ever gave you?”

“‘I got fascinated by your mind,’” Jeanne states in her huskiest tone without even thinking twice, startling me, and I almost drop to the floor.

“Smart dude,” Jimmy notes. You bet! It was me who told her that… in Philadelphia. She’s talking about me… But she seemed so cold back then… How’s this even possible? She must know I remember…

“Too bad you didn't love him,” I let out, unable to keep it quiet. She turns to look at me so serenely.

“Who said I didn’t?”

–.–.–

Notes

Who said I didn’t?

Point of no return? What do you think?

Let's make some pacts. I need you to check this video of the Backstreet Boys to have it in mind for the next chapter. I will ask you this again. If you don't you might miss valuable information for this story, and a huge part of the fun. So don't miss it! Quit Playing Games! You can google Valentina if you are curious or check her here.

I have my defence in like 10 days. In the meantime I'll try to keep writing, but before my next update I'd love to get 10 comments. I need to know where you stand! This chapter is huge for this story. Don't act as if you have nothing to say about it! :D Come on. I need you, guys. Don't forget to follow this story on Tumblr. If you do and for some strange reason I don't follow you back, just let me know it you. I love you all. I just want you to know you all better. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you soon <3