I Wish You Would - A Haylor Fanfic

Chapter 21

Long eyelashes brush against my face, nimble fingers rest on the back of my neck, red lips caress my cheek. The sundress is silky under my arms as my hands trace up and down Taylor's back. I can taste the lipstick she's wearing as her teeth gently nibble at my lower lip, and I can smell peppermint as her breaths get heavier.

My mouth curves into a grin behind Taylor's lips tenderly pinned against it. Her red fingernails dig into my back softly, and her long leg starts slowly inching its way around me. I place a hand on her slender thigh and tug it further onto me. Lying back in my seat, I let her lie against me. Her legs wrapped around mine, she grips handfuls of my hair and her kiss gets more aggressive. I run my fingers up her spine to the zip of her dress, I finally manage to slide it down-

BEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPP

BEEP BEEEEEP

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPP

BEEEP

Taylor jumps off me immediately and screams. Frantically, I scramble up to a sitting position and the earsplitting beeping stops. Taylor quietens down and starts panting, a terrified gleam in her eyes. I look around and realise what the sound was.

"Oh, look, Taylor. I was just pressed on the car horn."

I laugh timidly, and Taylor closes her mouth and nods very slowly.

"That was so scary. We'll just have to be more careful. Now, where were we...?"

One side of her mouth turns up in a provocative smile and I realise that I had unzipped her dress earlier. Grinning stupidly, I grab her waist with both hands and pull her in. Our lips connect and I run my eager hands down Taylor's back, as she does the same. Her fingers reach the waistband of my jeans and -

"Oh. My. God!!! Is that Taylor Swift?? GUYS, LOOK! I THINK ITS TAYLOR SWIFT!!! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!!"

"Harry. HARRY! GO!"

Taylor's panicked voice is what gets me to step on the accelerator and the car screeches as I do a complete U-turn and skid around the corner.

What just happened sinks in, and I breathe in sharply. A fan saw us. How could we have let this happen? I turn back to Taylor, hurriedly zipping up her dress with one hand, but frown when I see her face. Instantly, she leans back against the window, clearly trying to get as far away from me as physically possible, and has a hand pressed to her forehead. I open my mouth to say something, then quickly close it again, finding I have nothing to say.

Taylor:

My heartbeat has steadied considerably by the time Harry's jet comes into view. Rubbing my temples, I try my best to tell myself that nobody saw anything, that everything will be fine. I mean, they didn't even know it was Harry at least. Harry slowly turns to me and says,

"So that was fun."

"Yup."

"We're here now."

"Yup."

Silently, strained smiles on our faces, we clamber out the car and the light spring breeze floats around us. The familiar-faced flight attendant, Dorothy Pickle-ton, greets us at the door of the jet.

"Miss Swift, how nice to see you. It's been a long time,"

She smiles at me, a strangely annoyed gleam in her eyes, and I greet her and flash a friendly grin, before tucking some stray hairs behind my ear and striding onto the jet behind Harry. I see Dorothy's fists clench, but pretend I don't notice.

Harry:

The lavender scent of my trusty jet greets me as I shove my weighted, leather suitcase into a spacious overhead locker and help Taylor lift hers in too. Dorothy comes scurrying in and frantically grabs my sleeve and tugs it towards a seat

"Harry, I - oh no, I mean, Mr Styles, I, uh, please take a seat. Right here. Okay, I'll, um, bring you some lemon - I mean, I'll bring you a lemonade, and uh, I'll, I'll, have a fork of biscuits - I mean, bowl of biscuits out in a minute. Um, but, only if you want biscuits. You can have muffins, or, um peanuts, or shortbread, or spaghetti. Well, actually, I don't have spaghetti. But you can still, um, uh, I- I'll just bring two lemonades out,"

I smile and nod my head, pitying this woman, and hear Taylor stifle a laugh behind me.

"So, Dorothy still has that huge crush on you, huh, Harry?"

Taylor giggles, slinging an arm around my waist. I raise an eyebrow,

"Dorothy doesn't have a crush on me. She's just... a bit weird."

"Yeah... right!"

Taylor smiles and rolls her eyes, playfully punching my arm.

Adorable as always, Taylor does a quick twirl on her way to the left window seat, her yellow dress fanning out around her hips.

Without thinking, I step forward and wrap my arms around her waist. She shrieks as I squeeze her tightly, trying desperately to wriggle out of my grip. I'm about to kiss her, but Dorothy clearing her throat like she's suddenly the boss interrupts me, Taylor finally escaping out of my arms and plopping down on the squishy leather seat.

I watch as the silver tray shakes precariously in Dorothy's arms. Her face has gone a bright tomato red and her features are squashed together crabbily in the centre of her plump face. Exhaling harshly through clenched teeth, she speaks

"Mr- Mr. Styles, Miss... Swift. Drinks are ready."

Glancing over at Taylor, I see her posing in front of the window for selfie, unaware of Dorothy. I thank her and she stomps over to my seat, handing my glass over with trembling hands. Next she goes to Taylor's seat, and grips the glass, handing it slowly over to her.

Just when Taylor's fingers are about to touch the glass and she parts her lips to thank her, Dorothy unexpectedly jerks her hand forward, splashing the cold liquid and ice all over Taylor. Taylor shrieks and leaps up, and I can tell Dorothy is suppressing a smile.

Before dealing with the snickering flight attendant, I frantically grab my napkin and jump to my feet to help Taylor. As I try my best to pat her dry, Dorothy holds her head in her hands in fake embarrassment and stutters out a sentence,

"Oh my goodness, Miss Swift. I am so sorry!"

Sighing, Taylor half-heartedly wipes the lemonade off of her face and then looks up at me with a look that clearly says 'I told you so' before disappearing into the bathroom. I turn to speak to Dorothy but she's already backed into the kitchens.

I struggle to swallow back my anger, but eventually collapse back into my leather seat. Wordlessly, Taylor exits the bathroom, looking weirdly flawless, and just sits down and stares out the window.

After a few silent minutes, we hear our pilot, Johnny Lenon, who does Paul McCartney impersonations in his spare time, announce through the intercom in his overly dramatic voice that we will be taking off, or as he put it,

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to this cross-Atlantic flight! Just sit back, relax, and wait no longer! For now is the moment we have all been waiting for! Passengers and crew, boys and girls, fasten your seat belts and PREPARE! FOR! TAKE OOOOFFFFFFF!"

I see Taylor raising her eyebrows when she hears him, while she scrolls through phone, one hand twirling her hair absent-mindedly. She still hasn't spoken, but I don't think she's mad...I mean, I hope not.

Soon the familiar, uneven rumbling of the jet taking off begins, and I close my eyes.

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