I Just Want You

Marcus hadn’t been kidding when he said we were sitting high up. We were three rows from the top of the stadium. Marcella didn’t even seem to care, since she was still squealing about meeting the boys. “Louis has the most beautiful eyes, don’t you think Aunt Kenzie?”

“Not as beautiful as Harry’s.”

“Aunt Kenzie.” She put her hands on her hips. “Your opinion does not count because you are friends with Uncle Harry.”

“Uncle Harry?” I raised my eyebrows and glanced at my brother. “Who started that one?”

He shrugged. “She did. You should know better than to question Cella’s name designation.”

It was true. Cella had a habit of naming/declaring things as she pleased. When she was two, she called her dad ‘Steve’ for two straight weeks. Why? Nobody knows.

The opening act was already doing their thing. I didn’t know any songs by them—Icona Pop?—and was only marginally entertained watching their backup dancers dance together in some kind of weird, 80s, synchronized dance. It was hilarious. I had no idea what was going on.

I picked up my cellphone and took a selfie of myself with the top of the stadium over my shoulder. I sent it to Harry, along with the text, Just me sitting with the stars.

He texted back promptly, as if he’d been holding his phone in his hand waiting to hear from me. Not acceptable, Kenz. I’m sending someone up.

Well, that’s weird. I shrugged it off and elbowed Marcus. “Can we get altitude sickness from this high?”

“You’re hilarious, Kenzie.”

“Harry says he’s sending someone to fetch us.”

“He practically had a boner for you. Frankly I’m not surprised he’d send someone to get you for him.”

I smacked his arm. “He did not.”

“He did so! Kenz, did you forget to put your contacts in or something? He was all over you. He literally didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time we were in there.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain to you, of all people, that Harry and I have been friends since like, first grade.”

“And I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain to you, of all people, that we haven’t seen him in ten years. He last saw you when you were twelve. You look different now. Besides,” he looked to see if Cella was listening. She wasn’t, “Groupies.”

“Are you calling me a groupie? Because as I recall, it was you who set this up.”

“No, I’m just saying Harry is probably a professional at getting laid.”

“That makes me uncomfortable.”

“Well, I’m not terribly comfortable with the fact it’s in my brain.” He shrugged again, adjusting the rolled up posters on his lap. “Just be careful.”

“We’re just hanging out after the show.”

“I know. Just…don’t let him lead you on.”

I wasn’t entirely sure where this was coming from. To start, Harry was my friend. Well, ten years ago he was my friend. At any rate, he’d been polite and complementary to me, but that was nothing different. I didn’t think his invitation to hang out after the concert was an invitation to get in bed with him and, even if it was, I wasn’t a slut. We were friends, but he’d changed—he’d grown up—and so had I. The last thing I wanted was to fuck him and ruin our friendship or something. But no one but Marcus had mentioned fucking, so I didn’t even know where this was coming from.

God, Marcus, he could be such an irritant.

I watched Icona Pop bump and grind to music that sounded more like nails running down a blackboard. Of all the songs they performed, there was, maybe, one that I enjoyed. Maybe. People were dancing and some singing, so I assumed at least a few people knew who this group was. I felt incredibly lame all of a sudden. So behind the times for being twenty-one; again, it seemed like my oldness was showing. Pardon me, Hazza, while I take some time to apply icy hot to my joints.

After a moment, I realized someone was shining a flashlight light in my eyes. I blinked several times and looked down at the stadium walkway. A cop was standing there, flicking the beam of a flashlight at me. When I made eye contact with him, he motioned for me to walk down to him. Uh oh.

“I’ll be right back.” I jumped up to my feet and squeezed past Marcus, Cella, and the three other people in our row. What the hell did a cop want with me? Let’s see, no outstanding warrants or anything. I’d paid off that stupid parking ticket I got in Queens, so it couldn’t be that. Had some teeny bopper complained that I’d forced my way to the front of the meet and greet line? Because I was willing to get dirty and throw Marcus under the bus.

Despite all this, I smiled sweetly at the cop. “Hi.”

“Are you Mackenzie Shively?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s two others with you, correct? Can you confirm their names?”

“Marcus and Marcella Shively.” I paused. “They’re father and daughter, not like, married or something.”

“Excellent. So, I’ve been assigned to bring you three down to the floor to watch the show. Actually, it’s more to the front of the floor. Do you want some folding chairs? I can probably get three sent over to you.”

I was dumbfounded. Harry had done this? We went from rotting in the eaves of the stadium to now loitering beside the stage? How does that even happen? “Um…yeah, my niece is only four. I don’t mind standing, but I’d rather she be able to sit.”

He nodded. “Okay, go get them and I’ll take you down there now.”

Jesus.

I ran back up to Marcus and Cella and waved my hand at him. “Grab your shit.”

The woman on the end row seat glared at me.

“Sorry.” I waved at my brother again. “Grab your stuff and come with me.”

Marcus didn’t question me—odd, but good—and maneuvered Cella into the aisle. “The hell is wrong with you?”

“We’re moving.” I led him to the cop. “Okay, this is us. We’re super excited.”

He didn’t respond, but started walking back into the interior of the stadium. I shuffled along behind him, slowing only to hoist Cella up on my hip. I could see girls staring at us; even heard a few girls whispering. I wonder what they did. Look, they’re getting kicked out. Can you believe that!

We wound around the interior of the stadium, down level after level and through massive crowds of girls and, more interesting, parents waiting in line for alcohol. My mind was buzzing at a hundred miles an hour. We were going to floor seats? For a concert I really didn’t care all that much about? Well, except for one, green eyed boy…

At some point, the opening act had finished and now random, stupid music videos from groups I didn’t care about were playing on the big screen. The cop led us straight down the center aisle of the floor seats and to the left side of the stage, allowing us to squeeze past a barricade and into a roped off section with three padded folding chairs. We were nestled up next to the stage—and when I say next to the stage, I mean I probably could have scaled the side and been backstage in a heartbeat.

Harry was nothing but amazing.

Cella was literally jumping up and down. Marcus elbowed me sharply in the ribcage. “Damn, girl, I obviously underestimated how much Haz wants you.”

I shoved him away. “Stop.”

“No, I’m serious.”

Whatever. It was flattering to think that Harry did this because of some kind of adoration/lust for me, but that was being over complementary of our relationship. Our like, fifteen minute relationship. If you could call it that. I wasn’t calling it that. He was just Hazza. Hazza and Kenzie and Marcus, the three Musketeers. The three caballeros. “They say we are birds of a feather!”

Jesus, I needed a Klonopin.

My phone buzzed in my pocket again; it was Harry. Now I can see my girl.

I blushed. I stand out against all the blondes down here. Is that a requirement for floor seats?

I can guarantee you’re the loveliest out there, Kenz. My sassy girl.

Okay, he needed to stop being so sweet and flirty. Because he was flattering me to the point my pulse was starting to pound a little bit too hard for a guy who was my best friend—or, at least, had been ten years ago. We’d known each other for most of lives, but we’d grown up. We weren’t the same kids we were the last time we’d been together. There’d been a point in my life when I told Harry everything, things I didn’t even tell Marcus. But that was then. Ten years could change a lot.

The stadium erupted into some kind of earthshattering, ovary exploding roar when the boys came out. I glanced at Cella. She was literally beaming, her hands clasped at her chest. I’d never seen this child look so delighted. These were her heroes, four guy who were cooler than me, her dad, and her stuffed cat George combined.

My eyes were glued to Harry. He was a ball of energy, bounding and skipping across the stage with a sweet, dimpled smile. After a few beats of the first song, he walked across the stage to us; he waved at Cella and then, after a moment, looked right at me and winked.

Swooooon.

It was probably the fastest two hours of my life. They put on an amazing show; they moved and sang and danced and jumped and laughed and joked. I’d have needed my inhaler after one song, but Harry never stopped. His voice had an effect on me, like the deep, raspy tone went straight through my body to my low abdomen, making my entire body pulse. Every time he was at our side of the stage, his eyes were locked on me. He made me feel like I was the only person in the stadium, like I was his world; that the words he was singing—

I have loved you since we were eighteen
Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes
Baby you’re my only reason

--were directed right at me. Right to me.

Calm the fuck down, Kenz.

By the time the concert was over, my mind was a buzz with a million different thoughts: most of them dirty and all of them about Harry. I needed to push the car home and take a cold shower. Or smoke a couple packs of cigarettes, mother of god, the way he touched himself and the intensity of his eyes? Phhhhthfffffffff. There was no word for it. He was sexuality personified. No, sex was not the answer. Sex was the question. YES was the answer.

I needed my inhaler.

“So, look, are you going to be okay?” Marcus picked Cella up and tucked her head down by his neck. “Your eyes are all twirly.”

“My eyes are not all twirly.” My phone buzzed in my pocket again, Harry of course: Just chill there for a few minutes and I’ll send someone out to bring you backstage once the stadium clears a little. “It was a good time.”

I held out the phone to Marcus so he could see the text.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re such a groupie.”

“I’m not a groupie.”

Marcus patted me on the shoulder as he walked around me. “Yeah, well, may your appalling behavior tonight not end up in a massive viral video demanding you be brought to justice.”

“It’s Hazza.”

“And you, Kenz. You and Haz.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I saw the way he looked at you. He’s gonna have you…uh…commando before midnight.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “That’s my next tattoo, I think. Right across my lower back: Commando Before Midnight.”

“Hilarious. Call me when you need me to come pick your skank ass up.” He glanced down at Cella; she was already asleep. “It’s goin’ to be a long ride back to the base. Text me if you need me.”

“You’re the best.”

“You’ll be telling him that in the morning.”

I rolled my eyes and sat back down on the folding chair which was, not surprisingly, uncomfortable.

Ehhhhh. So, here I am. Awkward. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was supposed to do at this point. What did he quantify as the stadium being cleared ‘a little’? Because there was a damn huge mob of girls at the far end of the stage, squealing and screaming for the boys. And here I was, awkwardly alone in this random little VIP section, being glared at by girls I didn’t know and whispered about as a hot topic amongst bitches. Because it was obvious. I wasn’t sure at what point some girls lost the inability to be discreet, but when you stare right at me and lean over to tell your friend something while still staring at me…well, whatever. I’m a New Yorker now. People’s opinions really didn’t bother me. If they did, I wouldn’t be a magenta haired, tattooed chick with a pierced nose. Blending is not my forte.

I wondered if it was possible to get arrested for loitering in a stadium. I mean, sure, if it was posted I could see it being a possibility. But just, you know, just chilling like a VIP after a concert. Or….awkwardly sitting in a chair trying to blend in with the surroundings like I was currently attempting. Winning.

My phone buzzed. It was Marcus. Boots on the ground, Kenz.

I rolled my eyes. I’ll keep that in mind. Thx.

A bulky man with a shaved head sauntered across the stage and took some steps two at a time to reach the main floor of the stadium. As he got closer, I realized it wasn’t bulk—but solid muscle. He nodded his head at me. “Kenzie?”

“Yes.”

“Kenzie Shively?”

I swallowed hard. “The one and only.”

He nodded and stuck his hand out to me, warmly shaking my hand. “I’m Chad, I work on Harry’s security team. Ready to go?”

“Uh, sure.” I stood up, falling into step next to him. He led me around the stage and through an open archway. I had a feeling this was what it was like to either be a) a football player at halftime or b) a hook up. Did hook ups get ushered back stage or were they just given an address and a time? Wait, was I a hook up?

I wasn’t going to ask strong, silent Chad about this. I held onto my slim purse, twisting my finger around the strap, and tried to look reasonably calm. Fuck, this kind of thing was a lot easier with Cella as a buffer for sexual advances and Marcus as my other half. Things were always easier with Marcus. When he’d enlisted in the Army and I moved to New York City, it was so strange to be without him that I couldn’t function for almost a week. Eventually, I ran out of toilet paper and had to venture outside. This was a little different.

A lot different.

We rounded a corner in the bowels of the stadium, where I saw the responsible one, Liam, standing in the hallway. He was spinning a fedora around his index finger. “Aw, love, you stayed to party with us? Sweet.”

“Well, it’s either that or hitchhike home. My brother dropped me like a bad habit.”

“So, you’re twins?”

“Yeah, he’s thirteen minutes older. I was in breech position and caused a major panic for everyone involved.” I laughed. “Marcus is calm and orderly and I’m more of chaotic cluster fuck.”

“You’re being modest.” Harry walked through a doorway and into the hall, now dressed in a white v-neck tshirt and tight black skinny jeans. He leaned close to me and draped his arm over my shoulder. “You're incredible. I’ve never seen a girl who has such grace in ballet but can trip over the line in the middle of the road. And look so adorable doing it!”

Even his cologne was a turn on: he smelled all musky and sexy. Ugh, I either needed my inhaler or a cigarette. Or a pack of cigarettes.

“You guys put on an amazing show, Hazza. That’s more energy than I’ve had in my entire life.”

His face lit up. “So, you liked it? You had fun?”

“It was amazing. Your voice, Hazza, fuck, it’s like eating warm pudding in a hot tub.” I tapped my index finger to his chest. “And I liked it.”

He laughed, gently squeezing me. “Wasn’t Marcus the pudding thief? That holiday we spent together, remember?”

“Yes, and he still is.”

The other two joined us—Louis was the hot one, Niall was the cute Irish lad—and Louis clapped his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “We don’t have to be out until like, ten tomorrow. And, you know, I’m feeling generous tonight. I’ll buy you all a shot at the hotel bar.” He glanced at me. “Except for her. I’ll buy her two.”

Harry tightened his grip around my shoulders, pulling me against his body. “You stay away from her, dirty boy. Not a one of you is cozying up to my Kenzie. Just think again.”

Louis rolled his eyes dramatically. “Let’s drink. I want’a forget this whole bloody week.”

“Lou just found out he’s going to be a father.” Harry touched his forehead to my temple. “He’s the least excited person on the planet.”

“Oh, yes, I’m thrilled Haz, don’t ‘ya see me bubbling around?” Louis dug a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and popped one between his lips. “And to think, friends with benefits sounded like such a good idea at the time. God, now I’m paying to have her live in a fancy hotel in LA.”

“Needless to say, they aren’t terribly close.” Liam cocked his head towards the door. “Drinks at the hotel, yes? Maybe they’ll shut the bar down for us. Private party and all, yes?”

Harry slid his hand down my back and settled it on my waist. “We throw a dull party on nights like this, but we try hard. Liam’s usually in bed in less than twenty minutes.”

“That first beer knocks me flat on my back.” Louis walked backward several paces. “So, Kenzie, tell us about you. Enough about me, more you. Harry tells us you’re a tattoo artist.”

“In Manhattan, yeah. It’s a good gig with decent hours. I mean, I’m at the shop for twelve to thirteen hours a day. I’m not tattooing the whole time though. There’s always down time.” I ran my tongue across my bottom lip. “Dude, can I bum a smoke off you? I’m trying to quit but…yeah, it’s not going all that well.”

He passed a cigarette to me and tossed me his lighter. “How fast can you smoke? It’s one of those forbidden things we get shit for if it’s photographed.”

“You’d be surprised.” I lit the cigarette and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke out of the corner of my mouth. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime. Want to fuck?”

I felt Harry stiffen next to me, his hand gripping my waist.

I shook my head. “Nah, it takes more than a cigarette to get in my pants.”

“Like, what, a lifetime of friendship?”

“Fuck off.” Harry muttered.

“Yeah, something like that actually.” I shrugged casually. “But, we’re not just friends, dude. We were the best of friends. This kid found me crying in a puddle of soup once.”

“Soup.”

“Yeah, I had surgery on my elbow when I was nine. My mom was at work and my dad was God knows where, so I got up and decided I was going to make soup. I was on some serious painkillers so I ended up pulling out, like, a frying pan and dumped the soup in and everything was going fine but once it was ready…I just, like, dumped it on the floor. I don’t actually know why. When I realized what I’d just done—which, arguably was several moments—I sat down and cried. Harry showed up at the house to visit me and that’s where he found me: laying in a puddle of soup sobbing.”

“Your exact words to me were, ‘Grill me a cheese, damn it.’” Harry started laughing. “You were adorable.”

Louis checked me out. It was that blatant; probably even the girls outside knew it was happening. “Well, she’s hot now so I can imagine it.”

“Did you,” Niall thought for a moment, “grill a cheese?”

“Of course I did. I’m a sensitive boy.”

I finished my cigarette before Louis and then dug a piece of gum out of my purse, doing my best to get rid of my gross tobacco breath. We piled into two black SUVs: Harry, me, and Liam in one, while Louis and Niall climbed in the other. We were all pressed together, my and Harry’s thighs pressed together.

He eased his arm from in between us and put it over my shoulder. “You’ll party with us all night, right Kenz?”

“Hell yeah.” Before I was actually aware of what I was doing, my slowly wetted my bottom lip. He pulled me closer. I wasn’t sure if he’d actually seen my not-so-discreet movement or if he was just pulling me nearer. Did he know what he was doing to me? Was he specifically trying to turn me on? Because it was working. He had me wrapped around his little finger.

“Smile and wave at the people.” Liam waved out the window, inciting squeals of delight from the girls lined up on the sidewalk. “Oh, love, they’re going to hate you in the morning.”

“Yeah, well, they can queue up in line behind my brother. He’s already calling me Commando Before Midnight.” I leaned against Harry. “I told him I’m going to get that tattooed on my lower back.”

“Commando Before Midnight?” Harry chuckled. “That sounds like him. I can’t believe he’s got a kid. He and Louis need to sit down and give conferences on safe sex.”

“Cella is awesome. Her mom is a fucking disaster, in fact, she lost custody and signed away her parental rights before Cella was two months old. It was awful. We couldn’t even tell my mom exactly what was going on because we didn’t want it to upset her. Marcus is lucky he only got a kid out of the deal and not chlamydia or syphilis or some shit. The army frowns on that.”

Harry tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “She’s right, though, when she said you’re light. You are.”

His gaze was intensity and desire; I could see it. And the longer he looked at me that way, the more I wanted him.

Notes

Sorry for my recent lack of updates! I've been writing with pen and paper while I waited for my computer to get fixed. Hoe you like this one!