Complicated Page 13

  "Oooo, IHOP!" Harry exclaims, placing his hands on the glass of the window and bouncing a little.

  "IHOP!" Zayn repeats and cranes his neck to see out the window. "Score!"

  "You think we should get Liam?" Niall asks as we pull into the deserted parking lot, and Louis shakes his head.

  "Nah, let him sleep," he replies, glancing back towards the bunks.

  "He'll be pissed if we get pancakes without him," Zayn insists, standing up. "Liam!!" he yells as he makes his way back into the bunks. "We're getting pancakes. Get up."

  "You coming?" Harry asks as he slides out of the booth and my stomach growls in response. He laughs. "I'll take that as a yes," he says, holding his hand out to me.

  I step out of the booth without his assistance, but my hip bumps his affectionately as we file off the bus, Zayn and Niall already well ahead, Louis tugging a very sleepy Liam behind us.

  Joe and another large, hulking member of the security team, Eric, are already waiting by the door of the restaurant. Joe's eyes meet mine briefly as I pass him, but I look away quickly. He hasn't said much to me since the museum but I've felt his quiet disapproval every time he's near. This has been happening for a month and a half now, Harry and I together. Well, not together, but we've been doing this for a month and a half...fucking. I wince at the thought as we enter the near empty restaurant.

  "How many of us are there?" Niall asks, turning around and squinting as he counts. "Eight...Curly, get over here and help me move these tables," he adds, and Harry brushes past me, moving to help him pull two tables together.

  "Miss Wilson," Zayn says, sidling up to me and offering me his elbow, grinning at me cheekily.

  "Mr. Malik," I respond, hooking my arm through his and we walk to the table, him pulling out the chair at the head of the table for me and bowing as he guides me around the seat. "Why, thank you," I giggle as I sit and he falls into the chair next to me, grinning lasciviously.

  Louis plops down on the other side of me, grabbing a menu and opening it. The table is filling up, Liam falling sleepily into the chair next to Louis, Joe sitting next to Zayn, Niall sitting next to Liam and Harry standing at the head of the table, looking down at me slightly annoyed.

  "Come on, Curly. Sit down," Niall orders, motioning across the table from him.

  "You can handle not sitting next to Scarlett just this once," Eric teases, taking his seat at the head of the table as Harry sits down next to Joe.

  "Fuck you, man," he says, snatching a menu and discretely eyeing me down the table.

  The waitress comes and brings us water, introducing herself nervously. She's young, maybe my age and her eyes are nervously flitting to Harry. He smiles at her encouragingly as she sets his glass in front of him and she stutters a little when he thanks her.

  "So, Scar..." Zayn suddenly says, his eyes flitting across the table to Niall who does his best to suppress a grin, and I don't know what's coming but I try to prepare myself as best I can. "What's the best sex you've ever had?"

  My eyes widen slightly and even though I know I shouldn't, my eyes flick to Harry who is leaning over the table, gaze locked on me. I glance around and find that all eyes are, in fact, on me. I swallow hard.

  The truth is, Harry is the best sex I've ever had. I hadn't really thought about it but now, when the question is posed, my stomach turns. A seventeen year old boy is the best sex I've ever had. I'm pathetic, or Harry really is the stud he portrays himself to be. I giggle a little to myself at the thought.

  "Well, Zayn," I say, leaning towards him and grinning at him flirtatiously, "What's the best sex you have ever had?"

  "No, no, no," he admonishes, chuckling a little. "I asked you first."

  I look around and find the rest of the guys at the table smirking at me. Harry is looking into his lap and trying not to fidget. I can feel my cheeks redden. I can't believe I'm about to say this. "It was in the shower," I say quickly and Harry's head snaps up but no one notices because they are all too busy whooping and hollering and watching me blush.

  "In the shower!" Louis exclaims and I duck my head, my face searing hot.

  "Nice and slick, back pressed against the tiles," Zayn teases.

  I regain some composure, lifting my head and grinning as I say, "Actually, he bent me over." I laugh as the table erupts again but it quells quickly because Harry has just spit out the sip of water he'd just taken.

  "Damn, Harry. Popped a little quick there," Niall says as Harry sputters and wipes his mouth, glaring at him.

  "It happens, man," Eric comments, clapping Harry on the back. "Especially if it's your first time." The rest of the table sniggers. I look at my lap.

  "Shut the fuck up. I am not a virgin," he grumbles, his hand going to flatten his golden brown curls in that nervous way that he does.

  "Oh really?" Zayn asks, craning his neck to see Harry. "Tell us about it then."

  "Hey," I say, smacking Zayn's arm, "I told you mine. You tell me yours. Best sex you've ever had."

  "Oh, homegirl saved your ass, man," Eric says, nudging Harry with his elbow, and he scowls.

  "She did not. I've done shit you assholes have only dreamed of," Harry mutters, scowling down at his menu and a chorus of "oooohs" follows his statement.

  "Oh really?" Niall says, his eyebrows raising in contest, and I can feel a rush of panic run through me.

  "Come on, Zayn," I poke him again and he looks at me. "Tell me."

  "You're certainly interested," he says, grinning, and I wiggle my eyebrows at him which causes the rest of the boys to laugh. "Alright, since you're just dying to know, it was with this groupie—"

  "This is how most of his stories start in case you haven't noticed," Louis interrupts and Zayn purses his lips, flipping his friend off and receiving a laugh before turning back to me.

  "There was this groupie, I think it was in..." He squints, looking at Niall. "Munich? Was it Munich that I was late for that radio interview?"

  Niall shakes his head. "No, that was Hannover."

  "Oh yeah!" Zayn grins. "Munich was the chicks in the hot tub. Hannover was the jello."

  My eyes widen. "Jello?"

  "Just let your mind wander," he grins and then he laughs at the astonished look on my face.

  "Are..." I pause shaking my head. "Are all you're groupies like...like that?"

  "Like what?" Zayn asks, grinning and sharing a look with the other boys.

  "Well...you know," I say, shifting uncomfortably. "It just...just happens like that?"

  "Yep!" he laughs loudly. "In hotel rooms."

  "Dressing rooms," Louis adds.

  "The bus," Niall chimes in.

  "Everywhere," Zayn grins, wiggling his brows, and I shake my head at his antics.

  "That shit doesn't happen to me," Harry speaks up and I can see his eyes flitting to me, speaking to me in silence. I look away.

  "Yeah, it never has..." Niall says and then grins widely, "Ever."

  "Yes it did!" Harry exclaims and then his eyes flit to me again. "I mean...it doesn't, but it could. I just...I don't do that stuff. I'm not like that. Not to say that I couldn't be like that...I'm just not... because I don't... I mean..." he trails, looking at his lap, his face contorting in confusion.

  "See what happens when you lie, Harry," Eric teases and Harry scowls at him. "You're a virgin," he adds, shrugging and then laying a hand on his shoulder in mock sympathy, "And that's okay."

  The rest of the table sniggers. Their chatter stops for a moment the waitress comes back and takes everyone's order, smiling shyly at all the guys but stuttering to the point of idiocy when talking to Harry. He smiles sympathetically at her and when she scurries away, Eric claps him on the back.

  "You could have had her right, Harry?" he teases. "You're just not like that."

  "Shut the fuck up, man. I got stories," Harry insists, pouting, and I tense again.

  "Dude, Zayn's jello story was good but Niall has the best one," Louis says, leaning over to look down the table at Niall, who laugh
s.

  "No, bro, your group shower trumps my naked twister," he replies, pointing down the table at him.

  My head is slightly spinning, looking back and forth between all the members of the group, watching them laugh and reminisce. Talk of strip or dare, sex dice, strip poker...these guys have done it all, in every position, all over the world. I'm more than slightly shocked. I'm dumbfounded. Never in my life would I have thought that from these guys. I mean, I saw the girls, the women, throwing themselves at them every night but I never dreamed...

  "Look at Scar," Zayn says after a particularly scandalous confession. "Acting all innocent. Girl, I know you're a freak in those sheets."

  I can feel my face flush and my eyes involuntarily glance towards Harry, who is chuckling to himself. "Oh I am not," I say, blushing furiously.

  "Don't lie," Niall says, poking me with his finger and grinning.

  "Yeah, we've seen that Girls Gone Wild shit," Zayn replies and I laugh.

  "Okay, all college girls are not like that," I snort. Zayn looks at me appalled.

  "Hey, hey. Stop ruining my fantasy!" he exclaims and I chuckle as the waitress comes with our food.

  All talk turns to food for the moment, the passing of butter and scrapping over different syrups taking over the conversation. As we settle in to eat I look around the table, watching them all. They are exhausted, every single one but they are vibrant and caring and just normal guys. This fame thing, it's just a fluke. It doesn't change them. Sure it gives them the opportunity to have money and girls and anything else they want, but it doesn't change the fact that Zayn is a huge flirt; that Louis is quiet until he knows you, and then watch out; that Niall is a big goofball; that Liam is shy and goodnatured, and that Harry is...

  Well, Harry. My brain jams as my eyes fall on him, watching him shove pancakes into his mouth, his jaw working slowly, barely swallowing before cramming more in. Harry's just this sweet kid who got thrown into this crazy life.

  "OH!" Zayn exclaims, breaking me from my thoughts, and all eyes turn to him as he slaps the table. "Harry!"

  Harry looks over at him bewildered, struggling to swallow his mouthful of food before responding. "What?"

  "Guess who..." Zayn says, allowing his eyes to flit around the table giddily, "is opening for us next week?"

  The rest of the group snicker and Harry looks around, slightly confused. And then a look of realization dawns on his face and then something else that I can't place. "No..." he responds, laughing slightly as he looks around, his eyes falling on me and then looking around again and saying a little more panicked this time, "No!"

  "Oh...oh, yeah...she is," Zayn grins, nodding. "You gonna tap that pussy, Harry?"

  He shifts uncomfortably and I struggle to understand what is happening, watching him, just like everyone else at the table. "I-I dunno," he says, pushing his food around his plate with his fork.

  "Come on, man!" Niall exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. "You've talked about this girl non-stop since I fucking met you."

  I struggle at not letting the shock register on my face. Harry never told me about another girl. He certainly never talked about one non-stop. Then again, if we weren't studying we weren't usually talking.

  "They're talking about Gigi." It's Louis that says it and my head whips towards him, and he smiles at me softly. "She was on this TV show with Harry. She's gonna be our opening act for next week."

  And suddenly I remember sitting outside at the Getty museum on wooden benches, eating ice cream, Harry telling me about a girl he was once with. The way his eyes had saddened a little when he talked of their parting of ways. A pang of something ignites in me and I frown, not quite being able to place it, just knowing that it's an unpleasant sensation.

  "I do not talk about her non-stop!" Harry insists, looking at me, and I don't meet his eyes.

  "Well, maybe not so much anymore but for the longest time you did," Niall replies, forking more pancakes into his mouth.

  "You gonna get some of her sugar, Harry?" Zayn teases, and Harry rolls his eyes. "Isn't that how her song goes?"

  "Come on you guys," he says and I watch the blush creep up his neck. "She's a nice girl."

  "A nice girl," Zayn sniggers, "with a nice rack." He chuckles, pointing at Harry and then he adds, "And her ass ain't bad either."

  "Guys, stop," Harry orders, his face serious, and the table quiets, conceding to his stern admonishment. I watch as he pushes the remainder of his food around on his place, ignoring the conversations around him. I can't see his eyes so I don't know what he's thinking, but the dynamic has changed. The guys have stopped teasing him and he's quiet now. I don't know who this girl is but I know she means something to him, and I'm shocked to realize that I actually care.

  I also realize that that unpleasant sensation I'd felt earlier was nothing less than jealousy.

  17

  "You got it?" I ask, suppressing a yawn and he nods, yawning himself, his eyelids drooping.

  After getting back on the bus, Harry had asked if we could go over some more art pieces and after picking my jaw up off the floor, I had agreed. He has been incredibly focused, listening and not once joining in on the conversations around him. We worked as one by one the other guys of the group went to bed. And now at five-thirty in the morning we are both slow and groggy, unable to focus our eyes.

  He's looking at me bleary eyed from where he sits next to me on one of the lounges in the front of the bus. It's quiet, the only sound being the tires on the road and the soft hum of the engine. He sighs, fumbling with books and papers, setting them aside before scooting closer to me and resting his head on my shoulder, his arms wrapping around my waist. I let my eyes close as he sighs, his breath rushing against my neck. My arms wrap instinctively around his shoulders, savoring the warmth of his body.

  "What the guys were saying earlier was just bullshit," he mutters and my eyes snap open.

  "What?" I ask, my sleep deprived brain jamming a little.

  "About Gigi," he says, nuzzling against me.

  "Don't worry about that," I say quickly, pulling away from him, and he whines slightly and I give him a look.

  "Scar, really..." he insists and I shake my head at him, silencing him instantly.

  "I said it's not a big deal. You know, it's probably better you start finding a girl your own age anyway," I say and the words are bitter in my mouth.

  His brows knit. "I don't want a girl my own age." And then quietly he adds, "I want you." He's looking at me with such sincerity that I have to look away. I fidget nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. This thing between he and I is purely physical. This is what I keep telling myself. This is what is true. He just has to realize it.

  "What I want is for you to do well on your next test," I reply, smiling brightly at him and he nods in concession, then he grins slyly.

  "What's in it for me?" he asks, his tongue sneaking out to wet his bottom lip.

  "I'm serious, Harry," I respond, sighing. "Your grade is low right now."

  "How low?" he asks, his brow knitting again.

  "Low."

  "How low?" he asks more sternly this time and I sigh again.

  "You're at a 72 right now," I say and his eyebrows disappear into his hair line.

  "I have a D!" he exclaims, his face panicked as he shakes his head. "How the fuck did that happen?"

  "How do you think it happened, Harry?" I ask and he looks away.

  Everyone has commented on how much work Harry has been putting into his studies. They think he really enjoys it. That he's really getting in to this art thing. They tease him about leaving the group and becoming a painter. He plays the part well. This is only because we've been "studying" a lot lately. If by studying you mean tearing each other's clothes off and ravaging each other, then this would be an accurate depiction.

  "No... no, that can't be right. I don't get D's."

  "It's right, Harry," I say and I jump when he growls back at me.

  "No! I don't get
D's. I get A's and B's." The look on his face is so much more than a pout. It's anger and I'm surprised by it because Harry doesn't get angry like this and especially not at me. I watch his eyes close and he runs his hands over his face, leaning forward and sighing, holding his head in his hands. And then I realize he's not mad at me. He's mad at himself.

  I reach out, rubbing my hand in slow circles over his back, his muscles tense. I know what he's feeling because I've felt it too. Disappointment in yourself is something I'm extremely familiar with. I always think I could have worked harder, done more, pushed just a little bit farther.

  "Harry," I say softly and I feel him heave a deep sigh before sitting up again and looking at me. "Your midterm is coming up. If you can swing an A on it that should pull your grade into a high B," I tell him and he scowls at me but it softens when I continue on, "And that will set you up to raise it up to an A over the next couple sections."

  "What's on the midterm?"

  "It's cumulative. Everything we've done so far."

  "Scarlett!" he whines, hiding his face in his hands. I grip his wrists and pull til I can see his face again. He gives me a weary look. "I can't remember all that shit."

  "Harry, if you get an A on your next test..." I trail, eyeing him as he sighs, "I'll let you do whatever you want."

  "Whatever I want?" he questions, laughing slightly, and I nod.

  "Whatever you want," I say slowly and I watch his eyes widen.

  "Oh..." he responds, swallowing hard.

  "Yeah," I nod, trying my best to suppress my grin and he shivers, grinning back at me sleepily. "Okay, now go to bed. I'm tired," I say, because really I am.

  He moans a little, his eyes sliding shut and he reaches for me again. "I miss sleeping with you," he says and I pull back.

  "Go to bed, Harry," I reply softly and his eyes open, nodding as he stands.

  "Can I get a kiss first?" he whispers, grinning uncertainly down at me. I look around the bus, afraid that someone is watching even though the only person around besides the two of us that is awake is driving and out of sight.

  "No," I say softly, shaking my head and he pouts.