69 Day Warranty // h.s

69 Day Warranty | 14

H a r r y        

            It was March of last year when I had really started to feel the impact that my decisions would forever make on me, for the rest of my life. Nor did it matter how big small my actions were, as the result may be the complete opposite as to your action. The small click of a button – a decision, which may lead to the impact of something combusting; jumping off a building – a huge decision, which may lead to the impact of no one noticing; either being both sad and unsettling. This information, was something I looked back on every night and regret not knowing before hand.

March of last year was a month after my mistake occurred.

The small mistake being the reason why I was walking side-by-side against a girl I had met four days ago. But most of all, this mistake was the reason why my life changed. Drastically.

I could barely look myself in the mirror without cringing at the thought of how much I had changed – this caused a big problem as time passed by. My idea of personal hygiene changed to brushing my teeth when a hint of yellow showed itself. Worst of all, was the fact that I lived daily in the public eye.

Topping things off; tour was in two months.

It was mandatory for me to sing; so I did. The cheers had brought me through every night, but my – once lively – stage presence had vanished. I sang, I said a thing or two in interviews when asked, but didn’t talk by choice. Not even to those close to me. 

Not the boys, not my parents, Gemma or anyone else.

I didn’t think they deserved me.  

And looking back on this now, as I stared at the girl beside me who was talking about her family back home in Montreal, Canada, I realized how blind and stupid I had been. If someone as incredible as her could enjoy my company, anyone could. 

Her Francophone background had caught me in surprise; causing for me to badger her to speak nonsense in French. The language falling off her tongue sounded effortless and beautiful, making me feel happier.

"Je ma'ppelle Elliot. Tu es tres beau et je la ferais amour de baise tu." She giggled at the end of her sentence, making me confused. 

"What the fuck" – she laughed – "did you just say?" I asked her. 

She simply shook her head and told me, "nothing."

This girl was making me happier. And whilst slowly walking the mile to the car beside her for forty minutes, I had come to the conclusion as to how she impacted me. But this impact was for the better. Elliot, a girl with many traits and perfections, was turning me back into the person I was before March of last year.

And now, with time going by, I wanted to express how she had given me happiness and hope. I wanted to thank her hundreds upon hundreds of times until my voice would become hoarse. But instead, as she grabbed for my hand – it hit me that actions were louder than words. Much, much louder.

Which is why, I hastily, kissed her cheek and tightened my grip on her palm. Everything was perfect, better than I could imagine it to be.

But having Elliot slap my bum, wasn't on that list.

"Whoa!" I yelped, grabbing my cheeks.

"Tu es délicieux les fesses." She responded, her face was red. 

I shook my head in slight disbelief, "that sounded sexual." 

That was the worst thing I could have said, considering neither of us spoke afterwards.

            As the borrowed, black Honda came into view, and as she let go of my hand and ran to lay on the hood of the car, and with all of this happening twenty minutes later, I noticed the electricity on my lips from when I kissed her skin was still evident.