I Just Want You

I didn’t go to the show in Pittsburgh or the show in New Jersey. Harry and I had plans to meet up at a club in the city after his show. Well, he’d just stroll there all casual like: I’d show up and pretend I didn’t know him until we got our hands on each other in the VIP section.

Which was fine.

I’d bullied Rob into helping me dye my hair in anticipation of my somewhat date night with Hazza, which I didn’t think was a huge deal but he gave the side eye anyway. He’d first bleached my magenta hair blonde and then started adding the colors: a deep, sexy burgundy over the whole of my hair (except for the front most sections of my hair and a few sections on the side, which stayed bleached) and chunky, random streaks of plum.

He huffed into his hair, combing out my conditioned, wet hair and spraying it with detangler. “We were going to do this next week.”

“And you’re super awesome for doing it for me today.”

“Call me a bitch—“

“And you are.”

Rob snorted. “You’re damn right I’m a bitch. Look, I’m going to get straight to the point. Are you fucking someone? And not that pot dealer, Jesus, you need to lose his number.”

“Fucking someone?” my voice awkwardly squeaked. So much for playing it cool. “What makes you think I’m fucking someone?”

“Okay, first? You’ve been, like, MIA every couple days or so and your phone is turned off. Because I checked, Mackenzie, I call you and it goes right to voicemail.”

“I can’t answer my phone at the shop.”

“And you’re not at the shop because I’ve called there too.”

“Stalking me much, Rob?”

“Second: You’re going out on a Wednesday night. Wednesday, Kenzie. It’s one thing to get laid on the weekend, but getting laid on a Wednesday? This must be serious shit.”

“Dude.”

“And third? You’ve been really, really happy recently. And not, woot woot I had a monster energy drink and am super happy, but like, sexually satisfied. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bitch, you’re smiling right now.”

I felt heat rush to my cheeks; damn it. It wasn’t supposed to that obvious. “Well…I mean, there might be someone.”

He finished combing my hair and pulled out a round brush and hairdryer. “Level with me. Girl to girl.”

“So, there’s this guy.”

“That much I figured.”

“I mean, I’ve known him for…awhile. And we just got together for drinks one night. It escalated from there.”

“When you say escalated…”

“We didn’t have sex the first night or anything.”

“But you’ve had sex. Don’t even deny it, Kenzie, I can see it in your face. That boy has made your pussy purr.”

I giggled. “He’s pretty amazing.”

“And his name is?”

“None of your business.”

“Come on.”

“Nope.”

Rob sighed, curling my hair around the brush and aiming the hair dryer at it. “Okay, so there’s a guy. He’s fucked you. And now you’re meeting up with him, forcing me to dye your hair early—and for reasons I don’t know why—for a night on the town. Let’s get to the point: what are you wearing to this rendezvous?”

“You make it sound dirty and I like that.” I giggled and then thought for a minute. “I don’t know. “I have that yellow, low cut dress.”

“Ew, no, Kenzie, you can’t wear yellow with this incredible hair.” He sighed. “Child, how many times have I told you to avoid yellow? No. No, I’ve got a dress for you. You want to turn that boy on? I’m going to make that happen.”

“Well, I mean, my body might have something to do with turning him on—“

“Your body is a foundation. You have an amazing rack and a waist that I would kill for. But tonight, I am going to doll you up so fabulously that he will not be able to keep his hands to himself. I guarantee it.” Rob turned the hairdryer off and faced me, narrowing his eyes. “Is this someone I know? Because, girl, you’re awfully shady.”

“Nope, just a boy.” My mind raced, I had to give him something. I mean, if he was going to do my hair and let me borrow a dress and all…”He’s hung. I mean, fuck, you have no idea. He is hung like a god damned horse. So, yes, getting laid is preferable.”

“Jesus. Why didn’t you say so?” He again huffed into his hair and began teasing my hair up with his hand. “Just promise me pictures. Or a handful. God, Kenz, I don’t even care if he looks like a marmoset—if he’s got a penis that could command armies, then he’s worth it.”

“Uh….well, he’s hot too. So, you know. It’s not all about his dick.”

“Kenzie. Trust me. It’s always all about the dick.”

****

Rob’s idea of a hot dress ended up with me dressed in a skin tight, white tube dress. Yes, there was a section on the side that was all silver sequins and it was weird. But, there I was: my boobs hoisted up showing off a mountain of cleavage and an ultra-mini skirt bottom that showed off my legs, my thighs, and every single leg tattoo I had. My makeup was insane (“bleeeeend, Kenzie, for fuck sake you aren’t drawing cheekbones on your face, you’re highlighting”).

Rob readily admitted he dressed like a whore sometimes, but assured me I looked stunning. “Your mystery boy and his anaconda will approve.”

Jesus.

Rob barricaded the door until I ended up wearing a pair of electric blue platforms and then, after pulling my hair up into a sexy, high ponytail, he released me into the wilds of New York City.

I was not the most scantily dressed person on the subway.

I also told some random dude to fuck off in four different languages.

Once I was in Manhattan, I made what I personally felt was the walk of shame down the sidewalk. The club wasn’t actually all that far from the subway station, but it was late. I felt…well, I wasn’t sure how I felt. I looked pretty damn amazing. The dress hugged my curves in all the right places and, despite the fact I’m super short, my legs looked phenomenal with the heels and the short dress. I kept my septum ring in and, just to change things up, I managed to get my snake bite piercings back in through my lip. I kept it simple, with just my small septum ring and two studs in my lip, but coupled with my tattoos and the small silver hoops I’d put in my ears (between both ears: lobes, cartilage, daith, tragus, rook, snug, etc), I looked pretty sharp. Personally, though, I thought I looked like I’d been styled by a drag queen.

The drag queen who styled me demanded pictures of Harry’s ‘anaconda.’

I told him to fuck off too.

As was typical with a Manhattan club at eleven at night, people were just wandering around outside and it was loud. Jesus, I hadn’t been to a club in like, two years. How exactly did one get to the VIP section? Was there like, a screening or something like getting on an airplane? Did I have to find Harry first? God, these shoes were a bitch.

Some random guy wolf whistled next to me. “Damn, gorgeous, you look like you need some company tonight.”

“Not really.”

And then I saw him: it was like God had parted the sea of people and I saw Harry, standing casually outside the club chatting with three dudes, and staring down the street in my direction. He was dressed in tight black trousers and a long sleeved red shirt, unbuttoned more than halfway down his chest.

I knew he saw me; his eyes were transfixed on my body and his lips were spread in a sassy, lopsided smile.

I coyly looked away. When I glanced back at him, he was nudging one of his friends and cocking his head towards me. It was subtle. But it was obvious—to me anyway.

Before I got all the way to the group, he’d retreated back inside. One of the guys he’d been with held his hand up just as I was ready to walk past. “Hey there, beautiful. What’s your name?”

“Kenzie.”

“Ahh, Kenzie,” the guy draped his arm around my shoulder. This was weird. “I’m Matt.”

“Okay, cool. Well, I’ve gotta go.”

He laughed and pulled me to him. “No you don’t. I know who you’re here to see.”

“Oh? Really? Because I’ve got a date with Jim Beam and Jack Daniels. Are you buying?”

“Sassy.”

“Yeah, I can pretty much guarantee that any dude I’m here to see would not be excited about you having your arm around me.” I pursed my lips coyly. “Just sayin’.”

He laughed again. “He told me that you’re all his, but, look I’m just buying him time to get back to VIP. Do you want me to buy you a drink? Because I totally will.”

“I’m not going to turn down a free drink.” I pressed my fingertips to his chest and gently pushed him away. “But, just a drink. You buy, I drink. And then I have a date.”

“Oh, you can bring your drink to VIP.” He touched his head to mine, dropping his voice considerably. “Harry told me you were tenacious.”

“I’ll be honest, friend, I borrowed this dress from a drag queen. I just really want to see Haz so I can take it off.”

He burst out laughing and, putting gentle pressure on my mid-back, led me into the club. The bouncer at the door barely flinched as we strolled inside. Matt and the other two guys—still nameless, but ogling me nonetheless—guided me right to the bar. Good. Well, at least this was a reasonable start. The bartender was to us in less than ten seconds. “I guess there really is a rose among these thorns. What can I get you, beautiful?”

Gross. “Tequila.”

“You have a preference on brand?”

“Not particularly, as long as it’s reposada or anos. None of that blanco bullshit. I’d prefer reposda.”

“You got it.” He brought my drink superfast, which either meant that he’d already gotten a huge tip from these guys or…well, maybe he was just that good.

Matt leaned over the bar and pushed wadded up cash into the guy’s hand. “Put it on the Bariko tab. That’s me, Matt Bariko.”

“Not a problem.”

Matt again draped his arm around me and guided me away from the bar, maneuvering through the crowd of people clogging the club. We strolled to the rear of the bar, to a more secluded area enclosed with dark wood paneled walls. A burly dude was standing next to the door, idly staring at this cell phone. He glanced at me and the other boys. My crew.

I giggled. It’s amazing how quickly ones mood improves when you’re just seconds away from seeing Harry Styles. Fact.

The guy cocked his head at Matt, more of an acknowledgment than anything. “Fresh air overrated?”

“This is Manhattan.” Matt glanced at me. “I’m more interested in the party.”

I smiled sweetly at the bouncer. “We just met.”

Movement at the VIP door caught my eye—there was Hazza, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. “Really, Matty? I gave you one job.”

“I got her here, didn’t I?”

“The line outside is ridiculous.” I again smiled sweetly at the bouncer and sashayed past him, running my hand over Harry’s arm. “Excuse me, sir.”

He chuckled and followed me into the VIP area. As soon as we were away from the door and in surprisingly dim light, he slid his hands down my waist and pulled me against him. “You look amazing, Little One.”

“I can take absolutely no credit for it.”

He sucked in a sharp breath and kissed me deeply. “Jesus. How do you expect me to keep my hands to myself?”

“I don’t.”

He chuckled, tilting my head upwards and crushing his lips to mine. His fingers slid down my legs, curling just under the hem of my dress and tugging it up a few inches. “I want you. This dress? And look at your hair—stunning. I love it.”

“I aim to make an impression: every time.”

“Trust me. You do.”

I winked at him and slid out of his arms, trailing my fingertips down his hand. The other guys were walking into the VIP area and I still wasn’t entirely sure how much he’d told them about us. “So, I came home from work last night and Rob has brought a life size cardboard cutout of Norman Reedus into our apartment. He’s standing in the living room next to the couch now wearing a pink feather boa and, honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about any of this.”

Harry chuckled, sinking down onto a leather couch and patting the seat next to him. “The boa or the cardboard cutout?”

“The last time Rob brought a cardboard cutout into the apartment, I got out the shower to find myself face to face with a cutout of Darth Vader, with a Nicolas Cage face taped on the front, and holding a rubber chicken.” I took a sip of tequila. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Rob, but most of the time he’s a pain in the ass.”

“It sounds like he picked up right where Marcus left off.” Harry stretched his arm over the back of the couch behind me. It was a casual movement but, every now and then, he’d dip his fingers down and touch my shoulder.

It was insanely sweet.

“Yeah, you and Gemma had this lovely sibling relationship where it genuinely seemed like you cared about each other.” I shook my head. “Meanwhile, down the street, my twin brother is forgetting my birthday and telling me I’m ugly.”

“To be fair, Kenz, he beat the shit out of Colin Gwynne for saying you had a mustache.”

“That’s basically it with me and Marcus: it’s either ‘yo, I’ll help you hide the body’ or ‘don’t even breathe in my direction, you ugly potato.’ There’s really no happy medium.”

We chilled in the VIP section, laughing and drinking tequila until well after midnight. Matt and the other boys, Joe and Ryan, were first rate. I wasn’t entirely clear and how they knew each other and if they actually knew how close Harry and I were, but they were hilarious. We swapped ridiculous stories and Harry posted a picture to Instagram of me and Matt thumb wrestling. I won.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had this much fun; maybe last year when Rob dragged me to the drag queen holiday extravaganza, “Nutcracker Rouge.” Red codpieces and jingle bells for balls. It was fantastic. But this? This was me and Harry, like old times. We weren’t all over each other: we just sat close together on the couch and, every now and then, he’d gently rub my back or wink at me. It made my heart pound extra hard—somehow, the more discreet he was with affection, the bigger turn on it was.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking.” Matt spread his hands out across the table like he was smoothing out a map. “We’re all buzzed. We’re all competent people.”

Harry chuckled. “That’s an informed opinion.”

“No one asked you, skinny jean thief.” Matt spread his hands out across the table again. “Let’s play tag.”

Harry touched his index finger to my chin, gently tilting my face to him. “Tag. You’re it.”

“Hilarious.” Matt shook his head. “No, subway tag.”

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Dude, really? It’s like, forty-five minutes until 1am.”

“Well, most of us say quarter after midnight, but, yes. It’s forty-five minutes until 1am.” He turned to Harry. “Have you ever played subway tag?”

“No.”

“Good. So, here’s how it works: we split into teams because ‘safety in numbers.’ Each team boards a different subway train. Whoever finds the other team first tags them and we start all over.”

Ryan tapped his fingertips to the top of the table like he was playing drums. “So, it’s a lot less tag and a whole lot more hide and go seek.”

“In the day time everyone goes separately, but seeing as how we’ve all been drinking tequila, we should go in teams.” Matt looked around the table and then pointed at me. “I know you’ve played before, girl. You have that subway tag champion look in your eye.”

“I think I have glitter in my eye, but okay.” I grinned at Harry. “Wanna be team, curly boy?”

“Absolutely.” He draped his arm casually over my shoulders. “The secret to tag is stealth. What if you can’t find us?”

“Then text me. We’ll get a cab and go to Serendipity for cake.”

“I can fully endorse this plan.” I raised my hand to give Harry a high five; he pressed his hand to mine and then squeezed it. “Haz and Kenz: Team Awesome.”

He paid our bar bill and we all stumbled down the block to the subway station, paying our fare and then scattering in two separate directions: the boys hopping on a train headed in one direction and Harry and I headed in the other direction. The awesome thing about New York City at night? No one cares who you are. People glanced at Harry, sure, but they were also staring at a guy wearing a sombrero and carrying a trombone. We’re New York. We’re a family.

“So, where are we going, Mackenzie Mae?” He tapped the toe of his boot to the toe of my heels. “Or is this just a go as you please game?”

“Spur of the moment is the best way to go.” I tapped my finger to my chin. “Impulse. No planning; just jump off the train and find your own fun.”

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re my free spirt.”

“Maybe.” Heat streaked across my cheeks as I blushed. “That and I’m hopelessly forgetful.”

“I have every moment of every day of my life planned out for me.” He sighed, his eyes suddenly downcast. “I used to enjoy the structure of it, but now…I don’t know, I’d like to just wake up and have absolutely no plans for the day. Just make it up as I go along.”

“Sometimes it’s overrated. You know, like when you haven’t left the house in six days and you feel like the only thing keeping the landlord from having the cops do a well check is the fact that you’re ordering food delivery like, twice a day.” I burst out laughing at his expression. “I had pneumonia last year. After I got out of the hospital, I sat at home for like, two weeks before I could go back to work. Rob bought me coloring books and some plastic flowers from a second hand store. Nothing says love like a partially used coloring book.”

I kept an eye on the subway stops as we laughed and talked, finally grabbing his hand and pulling him off the train. The East End was hopping with late night partiers. We weaved our way through the crowds, dipping and dodging until I again grabbed his hand and pulled him through a doorway. Leaning close to him I said, “The Pyramid Club. This is like, my favorite spot on the planet.”

Yeah, it was rundown and the floors were kind of sticky. But nobody cared here: you want to wear a unitard and dance to some Culture Club? Do it. You want a secret S&M bar with chains on the walls and bartenders dressed in leather? It’s downstairs to the left.

I was thrilled that I knew the bouncer at the door. Trevor: he and Rob had dated briefly. “Hey Kenzie Chaos, you sassy little minx! Does Robbie know you borrowed his dress?”

“Fuck yeah, he refused to let me wear my low cut yellow number.”

“Girl, not yellow with your complexion and that glorious hair. Rob again?”

“Hey, he glams me up, I pay the electric bill.” I cocked my head towards Harry. “This kid and I are on the run from reality and structure. Can we hang for a few?”

Trevor gratuitously checked out Harry from stem to stern. “Well, hey there pretty boy. Look at your fucking cheekbones and jawline. God. You know you’re running around with a sweet doll, right?”

“I do, actually. She’s my...best friend.” He bumped me with his hip. I bumped him back. Hot.

“Sweet Jesus, he’s British.” Trevor leaned over and kissed my cheeks. “Get that fine ass of his inside, Chaos girl. Don’t you dare leave a mark on him.”

“Meow meow.” I winked at Harry and pulled him inside the club, turning back one more time to Trev. “Is Wyatt at the bar tonight?”

“Yeah, he’s here. Rue was on tonight but came down with something. Herpes or something, I don’t know. He said he was moist and left early.”

I laughed. Moist was the most obscene word I knew—especially after hanging out with these cats.

It was dark in the club, expect for the wild lights above the dancefloor and spotty lighting above the bar. Harry slid his hand to my low back, matching his stride to mine. “Kenzie Chaos, yeah?”

“It a long and salacious story that involves LGBT night here, dancing on the bar, and me singing ‘It’s Raining Men’ with a drag queen named Ooma and a lesbian named Muffin. It was weird, but I made like, two hundred friends. I also won a pair of blue assless chaps, but I haven’t figured out what to do with them yet.” I nibbled on my bottom lip, glancing at him suggestively. “Maybe you can help me figure it out.”

He sucked in a deep breath, flashing me that knee-weakening lopsided grin. “Want to head back to the Plaza?”

“And miss cake? And shots?” I snuggled next to him; he turned me slightly so I was walking backwards and slid both arms around me. “The night is still young. You haven’t lived life until you’ve dashed around New York trying to beat the street cleaners and the breakfast crowds.”

We sidled up to the bar. Wyatt was at our service in a hot second, climbing up on the flat top to hug me. “Kenzie Chaos! Rob let you in his closet again?”

I giggled. “Hells yeah. If he’s not in his closet, then I am. I took leave of my senses and let him glamorize me for the evening. He slapped my hand away when I tried to do my own makeup.”

He glanced at Harry. “Well, hello there hot stuff. I’d love to climb on that chiseled granite jawline of yours.”

“Get new pickup lines, dude.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Besides, he’s straight as an arrow.”

“Look, I’m just saying I’d bang him like a storm door in a hurricane.”

“Thank you.” I waved my hand dismissively. “But, look, I’m not sharing him no matter how many times you ask—and don’t even try that ‘Hey. My name’s Wyatt: So, why not?”

Harry was laughing hysterically, covering his face with him hands.

“Challenge accepted.” Wyatt drummed his hands on the bar top. “Okay, princess, so what can I get you and this stud muffin? Feel free to unbutton your shirt more, sexy, we’re all friends here.”

I glanced at the bottles behind the bar. “What’s hot tonight, Wy? Haz, babes, what do you fancy?”

He blurted out his answer, “You.”

“How about a wet pussy?” Wyatt cocked his head to Harry. “You know you want to.”

“Keep your hands to yourself, that jawline is mine.” I rapped my knuckles against the bar. “Tell me more about this pussy.”

“Vodka, peach schnapps, cranberry juice, and a dash of lime.” Wyatt set out two shot glasses. “It’s the only pussy I’ll eat.”

Harry burst out laughing, clapping his head over his forehead. “I have absolutely no comment.”

Wyatt mixed the shots for us and then slid them across the bar to us. I reached for my purse to pay him, but he waved his hands through air. “Nope. Your money is no good here, Kenzie Chaos. You know that.”

Harry and I clinked our shot glasses together and then threw the shots back. It was delicious. Peachy and vodka-y and it glistened on Harry’s soft, sweet lips…aaaaand I was so in love with him.

The blasting music switched songs and Harry grabbed my hand, leading me out onto the dancefloor. He brushed his hair out of his face and pulled me close to him. “You can’t go wrong with a little Joan Jett.”

“You just want to admire my sweet dance moves.” I laughed and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, swaying my body against his. “If I do a few more shots, I’ll break out some classics like ‘The Sprinkler’ and ‘The Lawnmower.’”

“Sexy girl.” He chuckled, tightening his hold around my waist.

“The night is still fairly young, Hazza. What do you want to do now? Cake at Serendipity? Or more hilarious subway tag?” I paused dramatically. “Or me?”

He wrapped me in his arms and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I don’t even have to think about that, my gorgeous girl. It’s always going to be you.”

Wrapping his arm around me, he guided me off the dance floor and out of the club. Within moments, he’d hailed us a taxi and swept me into the back seat.

The driver barely glanced at us in the rearview mirror. “Where too?”

“The Plaza, please.” Harry pulled me close to him, gently cupping my thigh with his hand. “What do you think about driving with the windows down? Enjoy the night air before we hole up in the room for the next several days?”

I snuggled next to him, dragging my lips down his neck. He moaned in his throat, turning his body to me. “Should I take that as a yes, My-Kenzie?”

“Always, Hazza. I am so in love with you.”

In the dim light of the cab, illuminated only by the outside lights of the city, he leaned over and kissed me. His lips were soft against mine, but the kiss was intense. Reaching up, he cradled my face in his hands and, very softly, whispered, “I’m going to keep you Kenzie, my love. You’re my girl—always.”

Notes

Hoping you all enjoy!!!