HARRY
Louis is stepping towards another barricade. Sometimes I wonder what's going on in his mind, but I move so I can haul him back as soon as I see it necessary. I put my hands on his waist so I can pull him back once someone scratches his neck, strangely pleased when he wraps a hand around my wrist.
"You know," Zayn says, giving me a water once we're backstage again, "your crush is becoming—"
"I'm aware," I interrupt. "But I can't just move past it."
"I'm convinced he reciprocates it."
I snort. "If you say so."
He's not even making me wonder. My crush is innocent enough, but it's inconvenient and not reciprocated. I'm not sure what Zayn is seeing, but he's seeing wrong.
We're staying at a hotel, but I place Louis on his bed prior to his normal night out so I can check his neck. It's not a bad scratch, but I can see it.
"Harry," he says, staring up and into my eyes. "It's just a scratch."
"You could stop."
"No," he says. "It wasn't on purpose."
"I'm aware."
"It's fun anyway," he says. "When you bring me back in."
"Sure," I say, remembering him nearly being ripped apart 3 nights ago. "Fun."
"I've never minded your hands on my waist."
I raise an eyebrow. "What?"
His cheeks are rosy as he moves to stand up again. "Never mind."
He's so near me I can feel him breathing on me. He's staring into my eyes again but soon steps back.
"Louis—"
"Forget it," he says. "I'm gonna go now."
"It's your room."
"I'm going out."
I'm not normally one to voluntarily hand over Louis' safety, but my mind can't comprehend anything except crashing in my own room. Zayn never once made my mind wander, but now that Louis mentioned he has never minded my hands on his waist, my mind can't stop spinning.
I mention it to Zayn once morning comes and we're waiting on Louis so we can continue to our next city. He smokes a cigarette as I zip up my raincoat, rain making us wet as fans wait impatiently by our hotel entrance. I put my hands in my pockets as I wait on Zayn's response.
"He wants you," he says. "He's just... not sure you're reciprocating it."
"It just seems..."
"I know you think you're not good enough, but even Louis can see you're as pretty as anyone comes. It hardly matters that you're only security. His fans are watching you when he isn't around. Have you never noticed that?"
I snort. "They're watching you."
He smirks. "Us both, perhaps."
"You're insane."
"Look," he says, "you can insist as much as you want, but Louis wants you. He's just worried you're gonna say no and ruin your friendship."
"We're not friends."
"Aren't you?"
"I've never considered us such."
"You were in his room last night."
"I was, but only because—"
I'm interrupted by screaming fans. Zayn puts out his cigarette so we can lead Louis away. He seems embarrassed as our eyes meet, but we continue on so we can get going. He plays 3 more concerts, goes out 3 more times, only to come back so wasted that Zayn needs my assistance as he sorts out Louis' keycard.
