The Story of Us

19

I sneaked up under the bed and his nose just moments before the clock was showing 12:06. I may or may not have turned off his alarm clock and called Paul to tell him Harry will be just a little bit late that day. I swear he wanted to kill me in that moment.

12:04. I shoved a not that little packet under the bed, slowly so he wouldn't wake up too early, and pulled the platter with pancakes and cupcakes a little bit closer.

I brainstormed for what seemed like a lifetime to find him the perfect gift. A can of gravy? A cat? I didn't want to make Dusty jealous, but I had nothing. I finally found a signed guitar by the Beatles in an antique shop a few kilometres outside of London. It cost more than all the expensive things I bought in life put together. He wasn't really and angel on the guitar, but I doubted there was a Beatles signed kazoo. I told Harry I went on a shopping spree with Danielle. Yeah right. He did start to suspect when I came home with just two bags- his present and an umbrella I bought because it started raining like Niagara Falls. I've been in London for more than a year now and still couldn't get used to the rapid weather changes. You could see from miles away that I wasn't from here.

12:05. It was nearly time. He's almost 19. Gosh, why does he have to be so old. I feel like a cougar.

12:06. I jumped on him without really thinking this step trough. I landed on his stomach, and he rose up, grasping for air.

-Ooooh.- he gasped. I couldn't help but chuckle, laying on his feet. I leaned in closer to his face, kissing him good morning.

-Good morning. Or should I say, happy birthday?-

-Happy birthday to me.- he smirked. -Why aren't you singing?- he pouted.

-You're the big boyband singer.-

-So just because I'm in a boyband I should sing myself a happy birthday song.- for a second there, he turned into a little kid. -I'm happy you feel that way.- I put the platter on his chest and took the guitar from under the bed.

-Here.- he sat up, carefully so he wouldn't knock the tray over, and took the guitar in his hands. I smiled, biting my lip. -I hope you'll like it.- he ripped it open, not caring too much about the wrapping paper. His face kindled as he realised what was inside.

-Thank you.- he hugged me. -But how did you know? And I don't even play the guitar.-

-Well, a signed kazoo or triangle is really, really hard to find. And believe me, I've spent most of my free time on this.-

-All I got you for your birthday was an ice machine...-

-Well, that and a ring.- he smirked, in the way only he could. He could make anyone melt with those dimples. Even if he wasn't famous and my boyfriend, I'd still stalk him if I saw him on the street. He's just that pretty.

We spent the day mostly watching old movies, eating and talking. Nothing unusual. He was too lazy to go anywhere, and I was too lazy to tell him to do something.

In the evening, I brought up a little chocolate cake I've baked the night before. I'm no Jamie Oliver, but I was happy with the way it turned out. It didn't burn after all. I lit up the candle, and he blew it, directly at my face, so I had spit mixed with smoke forced down my throat. If it wasn't his birthday, I swear his mouth would be full of pillow stuffing by now.

-Did you at least make a wish?- I asked, wiping everything from my face.

-Of course.- I looked at him, wanting more. -I'm not telling you. It won't come true.-

-You may be 19, but you're such a baby.- he stuck his tongue out.

-I wished for nothing to change.-

-Aww.- I smiled, as fake as I could. -Don't get over emotional there, Celine´ Dion.-

-Oh shut up.- he threw me on the bed. -And let me kiss you.- he sang, pressing his lips against mine in the cold February night.