But I'm in Love With You

If I could burn my memories, I would. If I could take a lighter to a series of photographs and words and music and everything I associate with him, I would. And if I could show you everything I’ve seen, you’d burn them too.


1. #1



The screams are snapped off with a sharp click, but the buzzing numbness remains in the inner ear; I wince slightly as I push several fingers against the lobe. It stings.
But I do not have time to ponder on the pain as I am being surged forward by several strapping bodyguards in bullet-proof vests - completely unnecessary, if you ask me - toward a heavy door at the end of the kitchen. The boys are already untying knots in their ties and shedding jackets, rolling their tired shoulders in an attempt to rid of the ache.
Harry walks beside me and looks as dead as I feel, picks up a large prawn as we pass several chefs preparing foods; he coughs - a booming, crackling sound. He catches me looking. 'No kissing for me, then.'
'You haven't got anyone to kiss,' I say with a smile.
'Never heard of a nightclub?' He giggles lightly at his own joke, and I shove him lightly.
'Get a girlfriend already,' I scold.
'They're boring,' he says, but I know he's only teasing. We have reached the door by this time and as the forefront bodyguard cracks it open, the waves of cries wash over us; stopping, we each collide with the person in front. Maddy - the publicist - raises her pen.
'You will not stop for photographs or autographs...or any form of undergarment, for that matter,' she says seriously, and I hear several chuckles from ahead. 'If a girl wants you to sign her ass, you kindly turn her down. Now - march on.'
She turns away and suddenly we are being pushed forward, herded forward, like a form of cattle. Harry grabs my arm as we step away from the door and into the brimming crowds, untamed and desperate to snatch the prize, as a girl takes a grab for his shirt. He gently pushes her away and continues forward before we have stopped, waiting for our entourage to gradually slip into the car. Harry and I are last in.
There is one too little seats and Zayn stands for me to take his - before perching on my lap. I giggle and he pokes my cheek. 'Your make-up's everywhere,' I say, before reaching up and taking his cheeks in my hands; rubbing his skin with my thumbs.
He scrunches up his face. 'Why does it matter now?'
'Because we're going to a party,' I reply, licking my finger in an attempt to rid of the black marks. As the engine revs, he wavers on my lap and almost tumbles backward as the car surges forward.
'I ain't goin',' he giggles, that stupid accent leaking through, 'I be goin' home.'
'If I'm going then you're coming with me,' I say, but to be honest I wasn't all that het up about it myself.
'Let's just go and grab a coffee or something,' he moans. 'We're in New York - no-one even bothers you.'
'And the others?'
'Let them go,' he says, 'we don't have to.' He flutters his eyelashes. 'We've got an early signing tomorrow anyway - I need some sleep.'
There is a moment of pause before I sigh and shove him lightly so that he almost falls from my lap; he grabs at my hands and I pull him back. 'You're buying.'

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...