I Just Want You

He ordered in breakfast for us; my all-time favorite: chocolate chip pancakes, strawberries and cream, and English Breakfast Tea. I perched on the bed next to him, still completely naked, and ate a strawberry. “I can’t believe you remember my favorite breakfast. We last ate this together…okay, bear with me while I compute the math. Like...twelve years ago.”

“It was your eleventh birthday.” He dotted whipped cream on my lips and kissed it off. “We went to that little shop that was down by school.”

“You got me that cat ankle bracelet.” I held the cup of tea under my nose and breathed in the aroma. “I still have it.”

He grinned at me, that adorable dimple dotted smile that suddenly made me weak kneed. “You still have that? Really?”

“Of course I do. You gave it to me.” I cut my pancakes into more manageable pieces. “You were my best friend, Hazza. I kept everything. That stuffed penguin you won me at the fair, all the pictures, the program from the school production of Oliver that I made you sign, the stubs from movies we went to…everything. The teddy bear you brought me after my surgery. I mean it when I say everything.”

He studied me in silence for several moments, gently caressing my thigh with his fingertips. “I’m sorry I lost you, Little One. I should have…I should have tried harder.”

“You wouldn’t have found me. We didn’t even tell my mum where we’d gone. I think everyone thought my dad was going to come after us, but the police tracked him down pretty fast. Mum was in hospital for so long, though, that Aunt Jane just kept us. We didn’t get back in contact with everyone at home until I was seventeen. And by then…”

“I was gone.”

“Yeah.” He moved his hands up to my arm, trailing his fingers down the surgical scar by my elbow. It was covered by my sleeve tattoo now, underneath a section of shading for a quill pen, but the tough skin was still easy to feel. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it. Then he tried again, “Can I ask you something? Something…I never wondered about until now.”

“You can ask me anything, Hazza. I’ve never kept anything from you.” I motioned down my body. “Obviously.”

He laughed lightly and then turned very, very serious. His eyebrows were knitted together in a deep frown. “Your elbow…it was your dad, wasn’t it?”

I looked away from him. If there was anyone I should be able to tell, it should be Harry. Not just because of what we’d just shared together, but because of how far our friendship went back. I just…wasn’t excited to tell anyone about it. I was stronger than my past was; I was a tough kid these days. Not the scared little girl I was before. “Yeah. Actually.”

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” He slid his arm around me, pulling me against him. “I would have done whatever I could have to help you.”

“I know. It’s just…my mum, she tried to hide it from everyone. You know, the typical excuses that she’d fallen down the steps or tripped and hit her face on the door knob. I think everyone knew but was too afraid to say anything. He’d come home drunk one night and I sassed him when he told me to move my shit off the living room floor. He back handed me and I fell. I landed just right to fracture the joint. But…it was the same kind of injury you can get falling off a bike. So, that’s what we said.” I shrugged. “And nobody ever asked questions.”

“And Marcus?”

“Jesus, he slapped Marcus around all the time. Marcus always stuck up for me so most of my dad’s rage went towards him. He’d get in between us when Dad would try to hit me. One time, he got his shoulder dislocated when Dad yanked him away from me so he could slap me for bad grades or some shit.” I abruptly stopped talking. “But, don’t worry about it. It’s in the past and I’m okay. I fought my demons a long time ago.”

“I do worry about it. What if he’d hurt you more than he did?”

“Well, I mean, Marcus protected me. And your mum kept an eye on me; that’s why I think she insisted we stay the night so much or go with you on holiday.” I hesitated. “And…I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be my friend just because my dad beat us. I wanted you to like me for me.”

“Oh, baby girl.” He set his fork down and pulled me into a tight hug. “I adored you for who you were—I still do. You were mischievous and sweet and sassy and you could make me laugh like no one else ever could.”

“It’s because I had a crush on you.”

“You poked Devon Jones in the eye for calling me Brace Face and Metal Mouth.” He tangled his fingers in my hair, cradling my face with his hand. “You know, he stole my girlfriend when we were fourteen.”

“He used to hide behind the big rolls of bulletin board paper they stored in the girls room and watch the girls pee.” I buried my face against his neck, breathing in the smell of sweat and cologne. “He was such a prick.”

Harry held me tightly, resting his head against mine. “Did…um…did he hurt you in other ways?”

“No.” I sat up and shook my head emphatically. “He never touched me like that. He hit us and he slapped us and he cussed at us but he never, ever did that. When it got really bad, when he’d come home and force himself on my mum, Marcus would lock us in the bathroom and we’d hide in the cabinet under the sink. When we got older and didn’t fit anymore, we’d climb out the attic window and sit on the roof.”

“Jesus.” I heard him mutter. He tilted my chin up and pressed his lips to mine, then stared into my eyes. “I will never, ever let anyone hurt you like that again. I swear, Kenzie.”

“I know, Hazza.” I snuggled against him, smiling at him. “If I could save this moment in my memory box of you, I would. Spending time like this with you…there just aren’t words to describe how at home you make me feel.”

He studied me closely, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Do you…do you want to run away with me?”

I stared at him quizzically. “To Indianapolis?”

“No,” his cellphone started ringing and he snagged it, glancing at the face, “I have to take this, but when I get back, just tell me yes or no. And no getting dressed.”

I giggled and winked at him. “Got it.”

He walked into the living room, closing the door behind him.

I took another bite of pancake and then slid off the bed, retrieving my cellphone out of my purse. There was a text from Marcus dated around 2am: I KNEW you’d fuck him!!!

I quickly responded: I didn’t fuck him. I’m going to Indianapolis with him though. So…there you go. I’ll catch ya on the flip side.

In the time it took me to text Big Murph and query how much vacation time I had left/he was willing to give me, Marcus had texted me back. Wait, you can’t just be like, hey, I’m running off with some kid from our childhood. You don’t even know this guy anymore.

I rolled my eyes. First of all? The things you say don’t matter. Second? He’s my best friend. Ten years apart hasn’t changed anything.

It’s because he wants to get in your pants.

Marcus. Not only am I not wearing pants, but I’m completely naked. Maybe if we wait a little longer, a fuck will fall in my hand and I can give it to you.

GROPIE.

I giggled. Yeah I did. He did too.

Jesus, Kenzie. Groupie.

Instead of texting my brother back, I logged onto Facebook and wished my cousin a happy birthday and then paid my electric and water bills. I checked my email and pulled up a coupon from one of my favorite websites, pinupgirlclothing.com. I was debating if I really needed more tight fifties/sixties style dresses—I totally did—when Harry walked back into the room. “What’cha doing?”

“Debating if I want this dress in blue or black.” I held my phone up for him to see. “I got a coupon for fifteen percent off. So, green light.”

His eyebrows shot upward. “I want to see you in the black one.”

“Sweet.” I took the phone back from him and added my size to the online shopping cart. “Everything okay? You’re not like….in trouble or something that I stayed, right?”

“Absolutely not.” He flopped down beside me and laid on his back with his head on my lap, staring up at me. “Soooo, Little One. Do you want to be my runaway?”

“Definitely.”

He motioned at me with his cell phone. “Management. I told them we’re running off together and will meet up with everyone in Indianapolis in three days. And do you know what they said?”

“Probably something along the lines of ‘that girl is a negative influence on you, Mr. Styles’ just like Miss Hill said to us in Year 6 studies when she accused me of not participating in our group project on trees. You got an A and I got a C and she told me I’d ruin your life.”

He laughed, tracing my peacock and lace tattoo with his fingertip. “See how wrong she was? You’re my angel.”

“God, that year ruined my interest in school. I want to send her a copy of my tax return so she can see how my lack of education has financially profited me.” I trailed my fingers down his cheek. “So, we’re running off together. I’m down with this plan, but I need to stop and buy deodorant. Possibly a toothbrush.”

“Fair enough. We can stop on the way.”

“When you stay stop on the way…are you saying, hey, there’s a store or, hey, while I fill up the gas tank, you go buy some stuff in the mini mart. If that’s the case, I’m buying Patchouli and giving you a lap dance.”

He was laughing and suddenly sat up, throwing his arms around me and kissing my lips. “It’s going to be wonderful, love, I promise. There’s just one thing….”

“If this requires knowledge of a foreign language, please be advised the only thing I remember from our German classes are vulgar.”

“No no, we just,” he sighed deeply and nudged me with his shoulder, “we’d have to stay inside the resort the whole time. We can’t, you know, go out for dinner or anything. I don’t want you bothered by paparazzi.”

I nudged him back with my shoulder. “And the down side to that is….what? Being alone—with you—in a hotel room? Because…I fail to see a negative in that.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” He sighed again and looked away, his eyes downcast, “because most women don’t. They want to be the girl who landed Harry Styles.”

“I’m not most women.”

He cradled me in his arms, pressing his lips to mine. “No, you’re My-Kenzie. And if I’m going to run away with anyone, it’s going to be you.”

****

Since ‘Night Maid’ never showed up, Harry dumped all his clothes and toiletries in his bag with little ceremony and had me lay on it until it zipped completely. He insisted I wear one of his t-shirts instead of my smoke and pot smelling halter top from the night before. We’d taken a quick shower together (Harry: “Wash my back with your boobs”) and I dressed in my white shorts, borrowed his black v-neck, borrowed his toothbrush, borrowed his deodorant, and borrowed his brush to fix my hair (I informed him, “I’m like Harry Styles, only smaller”), then pinned my bangs back and let my hair hang loose. I checked my reflection in the mirror. Ugh, my face without mascara and eyeliner looked like a panda without the black fur around its eyes. No good.

Harry slid his arms around my waist and nuzzled his face against my neck, pressing his mouth to my shoulder. “You’re gorgeous.”

I blushed. “If you like tattooed girls with magenta hair.”

“I do, baby girl.” He pulled me away from the mirror and led me to the door. “So, here’s the part of this you’re not going to like. Management wants us to travel separately.”

Okay. Okay, he said this like it was a huge, earthshattering thing. “That’s fine, Hazza. As long as I end up arriving at the same destination as you, that’s cool. Just let me know how I’m getting there or if I’m taking the bus or something.”

He pulled me into his arms and into a tight hug. God, I’d never get tired of that. He was so tall and strong; I loved how I fit into his arms perfectly. “It’s nothing like that, sweet girl, they’ve got a car ready for you. I’ll meet you at the hotel. I’ll text you the room number when I get there.”

“Sweet.” I paused. “Where are we going?”

He winked. “Away.”

“Be sure to text me if I need special accoutrement, like scuba gear or medical clearances or something.”

He hugged me tightly, holding me against him, and then kissed me. “I’ll see you at the hotel, Kenzie darling. And…baby, you know none of this goes online, right?”

I kissed him. “Everything between us is just that—between us. I’m cool with keeping our little rendezvous secret. No big deal.”

“I feel like a wanker even saying it.”

“You’re not.” I stood on my tip toes and kissed him again. “Peace out, Hazza.”

“Mmmmm…Kenz, even that turns me on…”

I winked at him and walked down the hallway, sliding my purse over my shoulder. Well, this was interesting. This was the first time he and I had been separated since we’d been intimate….intimate-ish, and it was the first I had to sit and think about what happened. I’d spent the night with my best friend, my Hazza. And….wow. In one sense, it was like we were just picking up where we left off when we were 12: stupid jokes, being ridiculous, but still could tell each other anything. Anything. But then, in another sense, everything was so different. He wasn’t just my Hazza anymore, he was The Harry Styles. And we were so sexually attracted to each other…that part was just…

I reached into my purse and dug out my inhaler. That’s what it was.

When I got down to the lobby, the man with the clipboard—the annoying man, the scheduling man who seemed to have a deadline for every movement the boys made—was waiting for me by the front desk. At least, I assumed he was waiting for me. He shuffled over to me pretty damn fast.

“So, we have your flight booked and everything is set. Here’s your boarding pass.” He shoved a printout into my hand. “We have a car and a driver for you—Harry said you needed to stop at a store first—but do you want us to pull a member of the security team to go with you? Do you feel comfortable traveling alone?”

“Um…” I tucked the pass into my purse and glanced at him, my facial expression somewhere in between a scowl and a grimace. “I…don’t think I need security? Do you?”

“That’s not really up to me, Miss.”

“Okay, well, no I don’t really want to travel with security. I’m no one.”

He stared at me. I felt insanely awkward at the way he was looking at me, like I’d missed some kind of enormous sign saying “no girls allowed” and waltzed into the hotel anyway. Nope. Pretty weird. Did he look at hookups like this? Wait….did he think I was a hookup?

“I’ve been friends with him since we were kids. We were neighbors. When we were kids.” I said this as if it was going to help explain why I was here. Still. Like the guy didn’t know.

He also didn’t look impressed. “We’ve got a car already scheduled to meet you at the airport. If you run into any trouble, before you call Harry, call this number.” He handed me a business card. “This is Harry’s assistant, Stacy, and I wrote my number on the back. I’m Carlton Fisk, I’m the coordinator for the US tour.”

Carlton. Carlton Fisk. I wondered if he could do the Carlton dance. “Okay, thank you.”

He motioned for me to walk towards the revolving doors. “When you get to the destination airport, the driver will meet you at the baggage claim entrance. He’ll have a sign.”

Sweet.

****

The trip to the airport was awesome, namely because the driver—Jo Jo—was awesome. She’d offered to take me to the more elite shopping district in Kansas City, but we agreed Target was going to be faster and by far more bang for my bunk. I had four knock off designer purses I’d bought out of a hidden room in a Thai restaurant in Midtown. I didn’t need designer to be awesome.

I also didn’t need time to shop. Apparently. Whoever made my airline reservations must have been under the assumption that I’d be teleporting to the airport, since they left me less than fifteen minutes to get my shit together. No matter. I’m from New York. I get road rage when I’m behind a shopping cart. I grabbed an oversized back pack, a pink hoodie with a giant peace sign on the front, a pair of grey skinny jeans, a loose fitting pink shirt, a white tank top, one blue, one black, and one grey fitted shirt, short Kansas City Chiefs cloth shorts, short denim shorts, a handful of colorful panties (which I may or may not actually need), a tie dye tank top/short shorts pajama combo (and only because it was on clearance), deodorant, a toothbrush, a pack of disposable razors, a hairbrush, pack of ponytail holders, pack of bobby pins, CC cream, facewash, mascara, and the blackest eyeliner I could find. And a pack of gum.

This was actually an adequate representation of me in a bag, minus the cigarettes, booze, and inhaler. I swiped my credit card without looking at the total and was back in the car with twenty-seven seconds to spare.

Ba zing.

****

The person who made my reservations significantly redeemed themselves by reserving me a seat in first class, which was awesome. Unfortunately, I slept through the entire flight. As promised, the driver—not as cool as Jo Jo—met me in baggage claim. I was milliseconds away from asking him where the hell I was, when I saw the enormous, building sized greeting painted on the wall: Welcome to Wisconsin!

Wis…..Wisconsin. Why the fuck am I in Wisconsin? Part of me panicked that this was some kind of horrific joke; that Harry had sent me to Wisconsin and then jetting off to Aruba or Nassau or somewhere awesome. He wouldn’t do that though. Not to me. Right? Riiiight? Son of a bitch.

Just as I was working myself up in a panic attack/inhaler needing meltdown, my phone buzzed. Ooops, so much for following the flight attendant’s instructions of turning off electronic equipment during takeoff/landing. It was Harry: I’m getting the Scrabble board ready, Little One. We’re in the Eau de vie suite.

I grinned. If the driver looked back at me, he’d probably think I was crazy. I probably was to some extent. I’m in transit as we speak. Can I just mention, for the record, I’m disappointed the air in Wisconsin doesn’t actually smell like cheese?

I already had wine and cheese brought to the room.

You certainly know how to make a girl swoon, Hazza.

I was half asleep by the time we pulled into the long, ostentatious drive leading to the hotel. And when I thought ‘hotel’ what I should have thought was ‘palace.’ It was constructed of brick, with peaked gables and lush greenery planted around the exterior. Ivy was growing above the white, double front doors and I was almost, almost, convinced the glass in the windows was made of crystal. It sparkled that much.

A uniformed man was at my door, opening it before the car had some to a complete stop. “Welcome to the American Club, Miss. Can I take your bag?”

“Thanks…” I handed him my backpack and turned to the driver before sliding out of the car. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

“Someone paid you, right? Because…I’ve got like, thirteen dollars in cash.”

He laughed for the first time since he picked me up at the airport. “Yes, I was paid before I picked you up.”

“Well….cool.” I awkwardly stepped out of the car and faced the man who’d taken my bag. Now what? “So, I have a reservation.”

“Very good, right this way.” He led me through the front doors—held open by a man in perfectly pressed slacks, spotless white shirt, and a forest green vest. A very smiley woman at the front desk immediately handed me a glass of white wine.

Okay.

“Welcome to the American Club!” Her smile was so broad, it looked painful. “What name is the reservation under?”

“I’m not…well, I’m not actually sure what the reservation is under, but my name is Mackenzie Shively. S-h-i-v-e-l-y. “ I hesitated. “The arrangements were made for me.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

“I’m meeting someone here.” Ugh, this was painful. I had no idea what to say and I’d apparently left my ability to act cool in another state. “Do you need my driver’s license? Because…I have my driver’s license.”

“Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.” She smiled warmly at me. Or at least, it looked like a variation of her welcome smile into encouraging ‘we’re not going to arrest you’ smile. I handed her my license and she looked at it, typing something into her computer. “Very good, the Eau de Vie suite. Excellent choice.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Stanly, if you can show Miss Shively to the suite. Here is your room key,” she kept right on smiling, “we have afternoon drinks in here in the lobby starting at four, but if you’d like tea or coffee brought to your room, just dial 1 on the phone and we can bring it up for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Enjoy your stay, Miss Shively.”

I followed ‘Stanly’ to the elevators and continued to be awkward: very, very aware of my tattoos and crazy hair and general Avant guard appearance in a building that was all warm buttery light, dark woods, and pale hardwood floors. When we reached the floor, he held the elevator door back and handed me the back pack. “It’s the last door on the left.”

“Thank you.” I was doing an awful lot of thanking, mainly out of the simple fact I didn’t know what else to do. Besides, Last House on the Left was a classic horror movie and I secretly wondered if Stanly got the same reference as I did. Probably not. Live it up, Stanly. Life is too short to be dull and not watch classic horror.

There wasn’t actually any other doors to the left. There was only one, very dark wooden door, with a bronze plaque on the wall next to it. Eau de Vie Suite. Did I knock? Did I just waltz in, unannounced, since I had a key and nobody else was up here to judge me? Other than Harry? And really, he’d watched me accidently superglue a blue sequin to my knee when we were ten. He wasn’t going to judge.

With lack of any other plan, I swiped the card and sloooooowly pushed the door open. “Uhhhh, Hazza?”

The room was insane. There was a huge, four poster bed completely with gauzy curtains pulled and tied to each post. Directly across from the bed was a four paneled, glass incased fireplace. I could see through it and into this enormous, gorgeous bathroom. The tub was right against the fireplace and looked like an oversized, overflow tub.

Whoa. Just….wow.

“There’s my girl.” He walked out of another room wearing only his black skinny jeans, his hair loose over his shoulders. “You already have wine?”

“The smiley lady downstairs just handed it to me when I walked in. Trust me, I was surprised too.” I set my back pack on the floor and took a sip of wine. It tasted expensive; I took another drink. “You should have seen me running around Target trying to figure out what to buy. I think I bought like, thirty-five pairs of underwear. And about four hundred pony tail holders so, if you need one? I’m your girl.”

He chuckled and slid his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. His lips were against mine in an instant. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re damn sexy.”

“Do you like the room?”

“I love the room.” I smiled at him, standing up on my tip toes to kiss him again. “But I love the company more.”

“Mmmm, baby girl.” He pressed me against him, sliding his hand underneath my shirt and trailing his fingertips across my lower back. “What do you say…about a couples massage later…followed by something called a RiverBath…culminating in a very, very, sensual game of Scrabble.”

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his and keeping my lips just far enough away that they only brushed against his. “Hazza…I’m going to beat you in Scrabble.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Yes I will.”

He laughed, taking the wine glass from me and setting it on the side of the overflow tub. Then, before I even had a chance to feign protest, he scooped me up and carried me over to the bed, crawling into the center with me still in his arms. First pulling my shoes off, he pulled the white, fluffy comforter over our heads and snuggled down next to me. “Tell me about your flight.”

“First class was insanely exciting for the like, sixteen minutes I was awake. We took off, I fell asleep.”

He unbuttoned my shorts, coaxing them down my hips. “Did anyone bother you?”

“A flight attendant sassed me for my seat not being in a full and upright position.” I trailed my fingertip across a heart tattooed on his arm. “This is quality ink.”

“Are you gonna tattoo me, Little One?”

“Fuck yeah. You come to my shop in New York and I’ll hook you up. I’ll kick everyone out and give you whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” His lips pursed slightly, making his dimple pop.

I touched his dimple and then slid my hand to his lips, slowly running my fingertip down the soft, tender skin. “Anything.”

“What about now?”

“Well, no, I can’t give you a tattoo now. Maybe with a pen and some batteries, but I’d need a hefty tutorial from the internet to make that work.”

He burst out laughing, wrapping me up in his arms and cradling me against him. “Take your clothes off.”

“Fair enough, but only if you take yours off too.”

As soon as he started pulling his jeans off, I shimmied out of my panties and shorts and whipped my shirt and bra off. He pulled me back into his arms and we just laid there, under the covers, enjoying the feeling of how our skin felt against each other’s skin. It was intensely erotic. Neither of us were trying to start anything; he just stared into my eyes and trailed his index finger up and down my jaw. He cupped my cheek in his hand. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day. Just…how you walked back into my life and…ehm…how I desperately want you with me.”

“I love being with you.” I nuzzled my face against his shoulder, running my hand down the muscular biceps on his opposite arm. “Though, I’ll admit, this has been a different kind of ‘with’ than before. This is like…’with-with.’”

He chuckled. “You just turn me on, Little One, I can’t help it. That body, those eyes. I’m addicted to you, Kenzie. You have no idea how much I want you.”

“I have an idea, at least.” I trailed my fingertips down his v-lines to his erection. Shit, he was already rock hard. “I just haven’t figured out why you haven’t acted on it yet.”

He smiled sheepishly, leaning forward and brushing his lips against mine. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, sweet girl. You’re the most important woman in the world to me, Kenzie, and when I make love to you, I want you to feel it all the way to the depths of your soul. ‘Cuz it will come from mine.”

I was losing myself in his green eyes, caught up in the desire and lust and attraction that riveted me to him. There was something in the way he looked at me, the way he held me. Part of me—admittedly, a tiny part—that didn’t want to fuck him, because of the fear it would make things change. I didn’t want that.

Overwhelmingly, though, my body, my mind; every fiber of my being wanted him. I wanted him to do whatever he wanted, to hold me and pleasure me and take me places sexually that I’d never been before. I craved him. But I desperately didn’t want to lose him.

It felt like borrowed time, that this perfect place of desire and lust and happiness that I’d fallen into could crumble at any moment. All I wanted was to hold him and touch him and pretend he was mine. That he adored me more than anything. That I was his.

Please let me keep this memory. Just this one.

Notes

Comments? Anyone?