I Just Want You

Harry remembered my favorite book was ‘The Great Gatsby’ and had reserved us The Gatsby Suite at the Plaza, which was possibly the sweetest thing ever—I just couldn’t decide if it was romantic because the room as awesome, with a huge bed, or if it was because he actually remembered what my favorite book was.

I woke up before him Thursday morning, my hair still half in a ponytail from our crazy night on the town. Well. And insane, mind blowing sex. He was lying face down on his pillow, his arms tucked underneath his pillow, and was snoring very, very softly. His hair was pulled up in a bun on his head and his shoulders looked crazy broad and muscular. He was chiseled. Chiseled. Laying in his arms, regardless if we were having sex or just snuggling in bed or on the couch, I never felt safer than I did when I was with him. I went out of my way to get rid of every reminder of my past—except for this one, sweet green-eyed boy.

Pressing my lips to his bare skin, I eased out of bed and padded across the room in my bare feet. I had to pee. And I also had no idea where the bathroom was. That door? Or that door….ugh, that’s the problem with rooms that aren’t like, the size of a studio apartment. It leaves an awful lot to chance and, since we’d drunk a lot of champagne last night, it could get risky.

I of course picked the wrong door (closet), not once but twice (another bedroom? Eh) and then found the bathroom. I felt markedly better after peeing and brushing my hair and teeth. My feet felt grimy from traipsing around the city the night before. What I needed was a shower.

With Harry.

I wasn’t going to wake up him, though, since he was exhausted, so I instead dried my hands on the Gatsby monogrammed towels and wandered out into the main room of the suite. It was decorated in art deco, with dark gray and crisp whites, with an amazing glass dome/chandelier at the ceiling. I pulled on Harry’s discarded red dress shirt and fastened a few centralized buttons. There was a Walgreens bag on the floor—I didn’t actually remember stopping at Walgreen, but okay—inside which, I found a drawing pad and an opened pack of multicolored Sharpies.

Sinking down on one of the black arm chairs, I tucked my legs to the side on opened the first page of the drawing pad. I’d drawn a very sloppy compass at the top of the page and drawn an arrow next to it, pointing to the words I’d also written. In pink. “Harreh, you’re getting this tattoo. We’ll point the compass pointy point to me.”

Compass….pointy point. Apparently, I was in rare form after we got back to the room.

At the bottom of the page, Harry had drawn a heart and written “Harrry loves Kenzie” and next to it, “There I was, way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute, and all of a sudden I didn’t care.”

Which was, I quickly realized, from “The Great Gatsby.”

He was adorable.

We’d both written all over the next several pages. Most of it was cute, some of it just looked like some kind of drunken Mad Libs. The two things that stuck out to me most, though, was a tracing/drawing of his hand and my hand, palms down (his over mine) with our tattoos sketched on by me; then beneath it, Harry had written: I want to write you a song—one’s that’s beautiful as you are sweet xx

Swoon.

I flipped to a clean sheet of paper and started sketching. It was just random, the hard lines of the art deco movement and the gentle swoop that reminded me of how his curls laid on his shoulders. It wasn’t for work, it wasn’t really anything concrete or specific; it was just how I felt. At that moment, I felt alive. Happy. I felt like everything, for the first time in a long time, was okay.

After some stretch of time (I wasn’t entirely sure and honestly didn’t care), I heard him shifting and rolling on the bed. After a beat, his deliciously raspy voice purred out from the bed, “Baby. Come back to bed with me. Harry’s lonely.”

I set my drawing pad and pen down, then padded across the room to him. He looked sleepy, gently curled strands of hair having escaped out of his bun and frizzed out from his neck. “I was trying not to wake you up.”

He lifted the blankets up and I crawled into bed next to him, snuggling down against his body. He was warm; his body heat immediately warming me up. Pressing his lips to mine, he flung his arms around me and shut this eyes. “I knew you were gone. I’m cold.”

“I had to pee. We drank a lot last night.”

He nuzzled his face against my neck, tangling his fingers into my hair. “Last night was amazing.”

“I think you’re always amazing.”

He chuckled, his fingers working down the buttons of my shirt. “No clothes allowed, baby girl. I’m naked. You should be too.”

“Well, I mean, if you’re going to insist.”

He pushed the shirt down my shoulders and then reached behind me, tugging the shirt away and tossing it to the floor. Pulling the blankets over us, he again snuggled to me, tucking his head against the curve of my neck into my shoulder. His eyelashes tickled my skin. “We’ve decided to take a break.”

“We who?”

“We, the lads and me.” He pushed himself up on his elbows, using his free hand to brush my hair back from my face. “A year, maybe more.”

His voice sounded like he was on edge, as if he was feeling this whole thing out. I ran my tongue over one of the snake bite studs in my lip. “I’m not sure I’d know what to do with a year of vacation. I’d probably sink into hobo-dom and play Candy Crush in sweatpants all day.”

“You’d better start thinking,” He pressed his lips to my forehead, “because you’ll spend that year with me.”

“Ohhhh you think so?” I raised my eyebrows, trying to bite back a smile. I mean, I had a job. And bills. Two things of which I was not in the least bit worried about.

“Yeah, because what’s a year off without my gorgeous girl at my side?” He dipped his head down and kissed my lips, one soft kiss after another. “I know you haven’t been…ehm…every excited about going back to England, but…would you go with me?”

I smiled at him, pressing my hands to his cheeks and pulling him into a kiss. He took control of it right away—which was hot—and lapped his tongue against mine; it was intense, but tantalizingly brief. “Hazza, I’d go anywhere with you.”

He smiled at me and cuddled back down next to me, wrapping me in his arms and tucking my head down against his chest. We laid there, dozing and just enjoying the feeling of our skin touching for an hour; maybe two. It was too easy to lose track of time with him: his big hands cradling and caressing me, the comforting sensation of his chest rising and falling as he breathed. Problems? What problems did I have?

Maybe ten years of pent-up sexual frustration and never admitting to myself how deeply I cared for him had been a good thing.

Eventually his stomach rumbled; he burst out laughing. “I speak whale, too, Kenz.”

“Did we order sushi at two am or something? Because there’s little bits of rice in the bathroom and I can’t adequately explain that type of phenomenon.”

“I just remember trying to do body shots with soy sauce.” He was still laughing, his dimples deep with his broad grin. “It was such a bad idea.”

“I just want like, a burrito. I have this burrito obsession.” I started laughing so hard I could barely talk. “For my birthday last year, Rob got me a cake from the store and made them write ‘burrito flavored’ on it. No happy birthday. Just ‘burrito flavored.’ It wasn’t actually burrito flavored, so that was a let-down.”

Once our laughter died down, he cradled my face in his hand. “Can I ask you something?”

“I’m not on drugs, if that’s where you’re headed with this. I’m just….peculiar.”

“No, I know that.” He’d turned serious, which made me nervous. Possibly more nervous than it should have. “I was wondering if you’d take me to see your mum.”

Ehhhhhh.

I must have looked uncomfortable because he tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “I know what happened was bad, but I remember her. She’s your mum—and, in a way, she brought me to you.”

Tears pricked the back of my eyes; I tried to blink them away. “It’s just...it’s hard. She can barely breathe on her own and needs 24 hour care. People never know what to do around her; one of her friends from Cheshire visited her last year—and never came back. She says she’s like a doll. People can just move her how they want her.”

He gently caressed my cheeks with his fingertips. “Baby, it’s okay. She’s your mum—you’re my girlfriend.” He abruptly stopped, his cheeks turning pink. “I mean…ehm…I know we said we’re just seeing where things go, but...uh….”

I pressed my index finger to his lips. “I’ve wanted to be your girlfriend since we were ten.”

His smile was beautiful. “Mackenzie Mae, it doesn’t bother me. If it’s bad or if she’s sick or if it’s upsetting; I don’t care. I’m not with you just for the good times, I’m here for you all the time.” He sucked in a breath; we both knew he wasn’t always going to be with me, not with the tour looming ahead. “And, even when I’m not holding you in arms, your heart is in mine. It always has been.”

****

He had to make a few calls, but two hours later we’d had delicious burritos for a late lunch and had borrowed his buddy Matt’s car to drive up to White Plains. It was about thirty miles outside of the city and he was trusting me to drive—which implied he had far better faith in my navigation abilities than I did. I usually took a bus.

I double parked in front of my apartment and ran upstairs just long enough to return Rob’s dress and throw on short, ripped denim shorts and a red and black striped tank top. There was not a crazy amount of time to pick out a suitable “seduce Harry” outfit. Despite that, he kissed my cheek and told me how beautiful I was.

That boy. Siiiigh.

Matty drove an old, freaking white Volvo that smelled like stale cigarettes and pond water. I wasn’t going to complain, though. Harry had his hand resting on my thigh and we had the windows rolled down, blasting music from the 80s as loud as the tinny little stereo could muster. It was hot and gross in the car—and to make it worse, it was a stick shift and kept popping out of second, which was a huge pain in the ass—but it was oddly fun. We were singing and laughing; we both knew all the words to ‘The Bad Touch.” He looked so damn sexy singing that I almost rear-ended a Prius:

Love--the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket
Like the lost catacombs of Egypt only God knows where we stuck it
Hieroglyphics? Let me be Pacific I wanna be down in your South Seas
But I got this notion that the motion of your ocean means "Small Craft Advisory"
So if I capsize on your thighs high tide, B-5 you sunk my battleship
Please turn me on I'm Mister Coffee with an automatic drip
So show me yours I'll show you mine "Tool Time" you'll Lovett just like Lyle
And then we'll do it doggy style so we can both watch "X-Files"

I almost forgot that we were on our way to the “Skilled Nursing Facility:” Ridgecliff Heights.

But then we were there. The building was clean and modern looking, with large windows and neatly trimmed bushes out front. I hated it. It was all faux cheerfulness and positivity. Sure, some people were only here while they recovered from surgery or long illness. But most people weren’t going to ever leave: cancer patients, multiple sclerosis patients, traumatic brain injuries.

Harry gently rubbed his hand against my back, flashing me his charming smile. We walked close together, our hands brushing against each other, and I led him into the facility, straight past reception and to the main elevators. I pressed the 6th floor and then stepped back against him. “I hate how it smells in here. Like antiseptic and pee…and the air fresheners they’re using to cover the pee smell but it isn’t working. God.”

When the elevator doors opened, I led him down the hallway and towards my mom’s room. The hallways were large to accommodate wheelchairs and gurneys; my mother’s room was near the nurse’s station, since she was a fall risk.

Angie, one of the day time nurses, looked up from her computer. She smiled at me. “Well, Miss Mackenzie! I almost didn’t recognize you with the new hair color. You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you, my roommate did it for me. He’s crazy talented.” I tried to peer into my mom’s room without looking like I was trying to…peer in my mom’s room. “Is she awake? I brought a visitor to see her. Well, and me. I’m here to see her too.”

Angie laughed. “She just got back from respiratory therapy. You can go right in.”

“Thanks.” Without thinking, I grabbed onto Harry’s hand to lead him forward. Oops. But, he didn’t let go—he adjusted his hand around mine, lacing his fingers between mine.

My mom was strapped into her bed, propped up and flipping through the computer apparatus my Aunt Jane had sent to the facility. She was able to tap a pressure pad with her extremely limited index finger movement to scroll and start her voice recognition software for emailing or texting. She looked up when Harry and I walked in the door.

Part of me was terrified Harry was going to turn and run back to the car, but he didn’t. He didn’t even slow down; in fact, he almost had to pull me forward. I cleared my throat, oddly aware of every single beeping noise, swooshing noise, and smell in her room. “Hi Momma.”

Her eyes locked in on my and Harry’s tightly clasped hands. She looked almost giddy; she burst into a bright grin. “Harry Styles. Look at you—you’re probably three feet taller, but I’d know those big green eyes anywhere. How are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, ma’am.” He let go of my hand and leaned over her, gently hugging her and pressing his lips to her cheek. He then perched on the bed next to her. “I ran into this lovely daughter of yours in Kansas City and haven’t let her go since.”

I thought my mother was going to squeal. “Look at you, Harry, the last time I saw you, you were eleven years old and sitting on my kitchen counter, eating crisps. You and Marcus, always eating—you’re as thin as a rail, child, do you eat anymore? Are you eating well? Getting enough sleep?”

“Oh my God, Mom.” I leaned against Harry; he immediately wrapped his arm around my hips and pulled me to him. “Stop worrying if the man is sleeping. He sleeps. He eats. He had a burrito this afternoon.”

“She made you eat burritos?” My mom tilted her head to the side, giving him a sympathetic look. “Oh, Harry. You’re in deep.”

Balls deep. I snorted, biting my teeth down on my tongue. That would have been awkward.

Just as I was about to ask my mom how her respiratory therapy went, I felt a hand on my arm. “Mackenzie?”

Fuck me. It was my mother’s social worker, Nina. Nina fucking Price. God, this woman was worse than a cockroach. She was always there when I was, sidling in on conversations and trying to get me to agree to things and changes that I wasn’t comfortable making.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I forced my lips to form some kind of upward movement; snarl, smile. Whatever. “Hi Nina. I’m just here visiting my mom.”

She cocked her head to the chairs on the other side of the room. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“I’m visiting my mom.”

“It’ll only take a minute.”

I was not happy about this, but gently squeezed Harry’s shoulder and followed the social worker over to the seating area. She closed my mom’s room door and then sat down across from me. “Is that Harry Styles from One Direction? My daughter is a huge fan.”

“He looks like him, doesn’t he?” I narrowed my eyes. “So, how can I help you?”

“I just wanted to go over some paperwork with you, just a few new things from the insurance company.” She shoved a stack of papers into my hands. “Your mother’s overall improvement is remarkable. So, if you’ll look right here…”

I tuned out the sound of her nasally voice and instead looked at the paperwork. When my brother and I turned twenty-one, we fought—and won—medical power of attorney from my Aunt Jane. It really never amounted to much, but if the worst case scenario ever happened, Marcus and I would be making her decisions for her. We already had her legal power of attorney (since we turned eighteen), but in all honesty my mother had nothing left. Her lawyer had sued the hell out of my father, but other than his “life without possibility of parole” jail sentence, there was nothing “the law” could squeeze out of him. He couldn’t pay restitution. Any payouts came from my mother’s insurance policies—and all of that went to her medical care.

I skimmed the paperwork and then glared at Nina. “Wait. Save the shit about her recovery because we all know she isn’t getting better. What is this about? Bottom line, Nina.”

Nina sighed. This was obviously a bother to her. “Here’s the bottom line, Mackenzie. Your mother has reached what they call Maximum Medical Improvement. Three separate doctors have signed off that this is as good as it’s going to get.”

I stared at her. “What am I supposed to say to that? This isn’t a newsflash. My father broke her back.”

“When a patient reaches MMI, we’re required to reassess their quantifiable deficits.” She took a deep breath; maybe this pause was to soften the blow of what she was about to tell me. “Your mother’s deficits are in a gray area—she’s squarely in between being capable of living in a facility or living at home.”

“You can’t tell me—“ I sucked in a deep breath and lowered my voice. “You can’t tell me that my mother is capable of living at home. She can’t sit up on her own. She can’t use the toilet. She can’t breathe on her own—“

“To be fair, Mackenzie, she could be set up with a twenty-four hour oxygen system. And once she’s in her chair, she’s fairly capable of maneuvering. She would need assistance with her activities of daily living, of course, and home health would be involved.”

I waved my hand dismissively to shut her up. “In what dimension do you live where that is something a person can do? My brother lives on an Army base. I share an apartment with someone in Brooklyn. My apartment is not handicap ready. And, how do you expect me to get her to doctor’s appointments? I don’t have a car.”

“Well Mackenzie.” She took another deep breath. “I can see your concern—“

“You’re fucking right I’m concerned.” I didn’t even care how loud I was talking; I heard Harry and my mother suddenly stop talking. “I work 12 hour days. My roommate works. What then? What if she falls?”

“Well, you have the option to keep her here.” There was that fucking pause again. “There’d be an increase in price, though. They increase the price if there’s question on medical necessity.”

I had to clench every muscle in my body to keep from lashing out irrationally and punching her squarely in the throat. “When you say price increase…what does that mean?”

She handed me another paper and pointed to one clump of numbers. “This is the daily rate as it is now.” She moved her finger to the opposite end of the page. “This is after the increase.”

I stared at her. “Are you fucking kidding me? Who can pay that?”

“I understand your concern—“

“Do you?” I cocked my eyebrow upward. “Because, I doubt that. Do you just want me to sign my paycheck over to you every two weeks? Or do I have to like, fill out some paperwork so you can have my first born kid?”

“I can assure you, Mackenzie, the price increase is in her best interest.”

“No.” I slapped the papers down in her hand. “You cannot tell me that a price increase is in someone’s best interest unless they’re actually getting something out of it. Better care, free fucking lap dances. You can’t tell me it’s a good thing to have the daily rate increased threefold—and then fucking act like I should be flattered? Bullshit. Bull. Shit.”

“Mackenzie, you don’t have to get upset about this. I’m not the one who determines price adjustments and I have no control over how they implement their policies. If you can’t afford this, then you can always have her transferred to your home or your brother’s home.”

“I don’t have a car. Our elevator isn’t even that reliable. Fuck.” I balanced my elbows on my knees, pressing my face down onto my palms. “Fuck. Well what about insurance? What do they pay?”

“That figure is actually after the insurance adjustment.”

“Jesus Christ.” I glared at her. “What is the fucking point of having insurance if they just screw you over like this?”

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“So, basically, you’re telling us that my dad wins again. He almost kills her, he ruins our lives, and now he’s going to fuck us yet again. I can barely afford to support myself—how do you expect me to afford this?”

“You can sit down with our financial department and see if you qualify for aid.”

“I’ve tried that before.”

“Well, again, you do have the option to bring her home and we can set up home health care. We can set her up with home physical therapy and occupational therapy as well.”

“But, it’s basically not as good as what she’d get here.”

Nina didn’t answer.

I groaned and slumped back in my chair. “God damn it. Look, I need to call my brother. We make all decisions together.”

“Of course. I’ll give you a few minutes to call him.”

I glared at her again—if looks could kill, she’d have been dead. “You mean, I have to make my decision on this today?”

“It has to take effect by the first of the month.”

“Fuck.” I yanked my cellphone out of my pocket and swiped through the contact list, jamming my finger against Marcus’s name. I glanced up at Nina. “You can go now.”

She was only halfway across the threshold and back into the hall when Marcus answered. “So, you’re still sleeping with Haz?”

“Cut the shit. It’s not about that….it’s…it’s mom.” My voice cracked and I started crying. Shit, that made everything so much better.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus sounded panicky. “Did something happen? I didn’t get any call—“

“No, she’s fine,” I stood up from the chair and walked to the wall, just a few more feet away from where Harry and my mother had substantially quieted down. I pressed my forehead into the corner, “she’s too fine, in fact. Some shit called Max Medical Improvement. They’re going to jack up the price here because now her treatment is different. And, if we can’t pay it—which we can’t—they’re going to discharge her to one of us.”

“How much of a price increase are we talking about?”

I told him.

My brother has always been highly well versed in swearing. He rattled off a string of obscenities and I heard a slam, no doubt him throwing or punching something. “Because they helped her get better? That bastard father of ours wins again.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” I choked back a sob. “If I break my rent agreement, I can move back to that place in Queens—but still don’t have a car and I don’t know how I’m going to get her to the doctor—“

“You’re not moving back to Queens, that place was shit.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

I felt two large hands circle my waist and pull me against him. Harry.

“Baby, it’s okay.” He pried the cell phone out of my hand and pressed it to his ear. “Marcus, it’s Harry. Yeah, man, I know. Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of everything. Yeah. I’ll text you later.”

He hung up the phone and handed it back to me. Pulling me against him, he cradled my body against his. “I’ll pay for her to stay here.”

“No, Hazza—“

“Yes.” He pressed his lips to mine, gently wiping my tears away with him thumbs. “Kenzie. Let me do this for you; I’m not going to let you lose your apartment and I’m not going to stand back and idly let your mum have inadequate care because some bureaucrat thinks she’s ‘better’ enough to go home. Even if you weren’t my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let that happen. You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever known.”

My jaw was literally shaking as I tried to hold back a horrible, ‘ugly cry’ that threatened to make me look like I’d been sucking on a lemon for twenty minutes. “Harry…I’m not using you for your money. Please don’t think that I brought you here to do this.”

“No, you’re not.” He held me to him, gently pressing his lips to my forehead. “You’re letting me take care of you. And your mum.”

I didn’t even know what to say to him; thank you wasn’t enough. It was by far the sweetest thing he could have done for me. No doubt he had enough money to shower me with jewelry, take me to fancy vacations or whatever. But this? This was more important to me than anything. “I love you so much, Harry.”

He kissed me softly, cradling my face with his hands. “I love you, Mackenzie Mae. More than you realize. And, no matter what happens, I’m always—always—going to take care of you.”

When we turned back, my mother had tears streaming down her cheeks. I rushed to her side and grabbed a tissue, gently dapping her cheeks. “Momma, it’s okay. He’s going to take care of it.”

“I know, Mackenzie, it’s just,” She sniffled, the sudden intake of air in her chest rattling in her lungs, “the two of you together, finally, makes me happy. Don’t let him go, Kenz. He’s perfect for you.”

I looked up at Harry, my eyes meeting his intense gaze. He winked at me. I turned back to my mom and again wiped tears from her cheeks. “I won’t, Momma. He’s pretty amazing.”

“Don’t give me all the credit, Ms. Shively.” Harry wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my temple. “I’ve waited a long time for this girl to be mine. Come on, Little One, let’s get this taken care of so we can tell your mum all about our date tonight.”

“I’m tattooing him, Momma.”

She laughed. “You won’t find a better tattoo artist than Mackenzie.”

“No one is better than My Kenzie.” He winked at me again, gently sliding his hand underneath my shirt and rubbing my back. “No one.”

Notes

Thank you so much for your support, guys! It means so much to me!