3. Sometimes You Just Need a Celebrity to Lean on.
The doors swung open.
The screams were deafening.
My eyes didn’t know where to look first. Before I knew it, we were cast outside into the direct view of hundreds of teenage girls. When they saw us, the pitch of their screams grew louder.
“Harry!” “Harry, I love you!” “Harry, come over here please!” “Harry are you okay?!”
“Harry!”
“Harry!”
“Harry!”
The flash of cameras blinded me and I instinctively raised my arm to shield my eyes. We were cushioned on both sides by heavy-weight policemen, but even that didn’t seem to be enough, as the crowd flooded forward to test the barricades. Because of how the barriers were placed, the van hadn’t been able to park directly outside the entrance.
We were pushed down the pathway, buried inside a circle of policemen, while the rest did their best to control the crowd. Never in a million years had I seen anything like this. In my mind, I’d acknowledged that celebrities were trailed by fans constantly, but nothing I’d ever imagined could compete with the scale of hysteria that I was facing now.
They screamed the name ‘HARRY’ over and over again, until the word lost all meaning. As we made our way down the path hastily, the name ‘Harry’ became a plea. They were begging him to turn around, their shouts getting more and more insistent - their words morphing together into a cacophony of dull roars and wailing.
I clenched my eyes shut, but that just made the noise appear louder.
Harry’s face was a tight grimace as he stared ahead stonily, breaking his gaze once or twice to glance at our feet as we battled through the crowd, jostled left and right roughly.
I forced myself to do the same, focusing steadily on the van in front of us. I tried my best to balance on my uninjured leg, so that I wouldn’t fall over and send everybody around us tumbling down like dominoes. Even with the circle of policemen protecting us, Harry could see that I was struggling.
He wrapped my arm around his shoulders and pulled me closer against his side, forcing me to lean my weight on his body as we ambled down the path.
I immediately disliked being so dependent on someone, but the few steps without his help at the beginning had been torture and I’d nearly tripped us both to the ground on more than one occasion. My eyes traced the outline of the ship tattoo on his left arm, taking in the other etchings on his forearm to distract myself.
“Harry! Harry, please!”
Hands reached out, phones shoved forward, every person in the crowd pleading.
It was madness.
We paused a few metres from the van doors, allowing policemen to zip past us and into the driver’s seat. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the heavy weight of an Iphone whizzed past my right ear, narrowly missing the open wound on my head. I twisted around in a daze. Someone had been so desperate to get Harry’s attention that they’d thrown their phone right at us.
Harry’s eyes were livid as he turned to face the crowd, his eyes darted back and forth.
“Hey!” He growled, “Whoever did that - ”
I missed the last part of his warning as a wave of claustrophobia washed over me. It was too loud, everything was too close.
Noticing the panic on my face, Harry pulled me closer to his side and leaned in so that I could hear him above the screams.
YOU ARE READING
Chasing Blue Roses
Humor"He was the type of guy who would break your heart into thirty million pieces and make sure you had the time of your life while he was doing it. It was the kind of heartbreak where after he was done, you'd drag yourself up off the ground, compl...
