Twist Of Fate

Why Does A Kiss Always Have To Change So Much

I take a quick glance at the watch that's wrapped around my right wrist. An hour and a half has passed, and I'm sure One Direction are going to wrap up the concert soon. Throughout the concert, Harry has been glancing over at Travis and I subtly. My whole focus has been on our argument, for some reason. I know that I shouldn't be fretting, and over-thinking about it because we're just friends and friends argue all the time. But my brain doesn't want to let it go. Again and again the argument twirls around my brain, on repeat, and makes me cringe. Other than that, I learnt that Travis is the son of one of technicians. His father has worked with One Direction since 2011. Since Travis's parents are divorced, he had to stay in a hostel for most of his school life. Now, however, he has his own apartment in Chicago, and is here to visit his father. We exchanged numbers, and I think I've made another friend because Travis is a nice person, so far. Harry comes over again, for the tenth time, to grab a water bottle from the crate. That's another thing I find puzzling. The boys have water bottles waiting for them near the end of the stage. Yet Harry keeps coming over, and grabbing one from this crate. I haven't said a word to him, and I'm not going to either. Harry's clearly at fault here. He's the one who begun our argument and kept insisting that I change sides. I'm not going to apologize, or make the first move. He has to do so.
"Isn't this like the hundredth time he's come here?" Travis whispers in my ear. Harry's brows furrow, and the hand that's not holding the water bottle, clenches.
"Yeah," I murmur. I don't want to talk bad about Harry, after all he is my friend. However, I don't want to insult Travis either, by telling him to stop picking at Harry.
"You guys seem comfortable with each other." Harry says, placing the water bottle back in the crate.
"Yeah, we're friends now." Travis says, slinging an arm over my shoulders. Harry's whole body tenses and he squares his jaw.
"A little too amiable, aren't you Mus?" Harry raises an eyebrow and stares me straight in the eye.
"If I wasn't, we'd not be friends." I say, waving a hand between Harry and my body.
"Harry!" Louis hisses from behind him. Harry takes one last look at Travis and then heads back onstage.
"Having fun?!" Harry yells, smiling at the crowd. A wave of screams goes through the whole stadium. "I am too! In fact, today I'm enjoying myself even more because I have someone very special with me." Louis, Niall and Liam look confused. They all turn their heads toward each other, looking at each other questioningly. "A very special someone who's a pain in the butt, yet I can't help but enjoy her company." Realization dawns on Louis' face and his eyes travel over to where I'm standing. He scowls and takes a step toward Harry. "This is her second concert and she's been a Directioner for a long time. I think that I should give her the opportunity to come onstage and stand with the boys and myself." Another scream wave passes. If he means me - and I'm pretty sure he does - I'm in no way going up on that stage. Definitely not in front of all of those people, who are yelling their lungs out for One Direction. They're here to see One Direction, not me.
"Should I bring her up?" Harry asks the crowd. Everyone screams, and I think those are screams of approval. Nobody in that crowd would want to go against Harry, even if he says let's murder someone. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Harry turns to face me, and grins. He looks like a child who's plotting to get a new toy, or movie that his mother has banned him from watching.
"No, Harry. Don't even think about it," I warn him. I take a few steps back, but Harry runs toward me, and grabs my arm. "Leave me!" I turn my head to Travis for help, but he's just wearing a shell-shocked expression, and staring at Harry and I. Oh, now he decides to play the cowardly figure.
"Come on, Mus!" Harry says, dragging me. My pumps are literally dragging across the floor, as Harry pulls me toward the stage.
"Harry, I don't want to." I insist, trying to grab something so that I won't be dragged onstage like a weakling. "Please, let me stay here, in the shadows."
"You said that you've never enjoyed yourself onstage, so now I will make you have an enjoyable time onstage."
"But I don't want to!" I whimper, as we pass the dark walls, and I know the whole crowd is viewing my humiliation. Finally sick of my tugging, and resistance, Harry turns around and scoops me up into his arms. I punch at his chest, but I know my efforts are in vain. He's too strong and muscular.
"See, stubborn as hell!" Harry says into the mic. He's holding me bridal style and one of his arm is stretching across my body, angling the mic underneath his mouth. The whole stadium is silent. I'm too cowardly to meet the people's gaze. I'm too timid and ashamed.
"This here is Mus," Harry says. "Would you like to say something?" Harry holds the mic toward my face, and I push it away.
"You're an asshole." I say through clenched teeth. Harry chuckles and lowers me to the ground as gently as he can.
"Mus, nobody's going to judge you here, or make fun of you. They're in awe of you. They want to be you." Harry places his hand on my cheek. I lean my face into his hand, even though I know this is wrong. I'm mad at him, very mad. But his hand is soft, big, warm and comforting. "Look up, Mus. Look up." I do, and that's when I realize that I misjudged the numbers. There aren't hundreds of people, there are thousands of them and they're all looking at two things. Harry and I. Right at that moment, I realize that Harry and I are standing barely an inch apart. We're so close that the tops of our shoes, my flat shoes and his boots, are touching.
"I've wanted to do this for a long time now," Harry whispers. Before my mind can process anything, Harry leans his face toward mine and touches my lips tenderly. I suck in a deep breath, not sure how to react. This is wrong, I know it is. Harry molds his soft lips with mine, but I don't move mine. I can't move my lips for some reason. I'm frozen.
"Hey, I'm not such a bad kisser." Harry murmurs, brushing his lips against mine.
"No, you're not." I whisper, taking the lead this time. Harry responds to my lips, and kisses me back. I pass my hand through his hair, making a mess of his perfect hairdo. When I pull back, there's a smile on Harry's lips and he leans his forehead against mine.
"I've waited a long time to do that." Harry says, making me giggle.
"Lovebirds, get a room!" Liam yells, snapping us both back to the present. The crowd giggles, but when Harry and I turn to face them, everyone looks crestfallen. I'm not scared of them anymore. I'm not scared of the fact that I'm onstage in front of thousands of people. Harry wraps his hand around mine and gives it a squeeze. As I scan the crowd again, my eyes land on Kate's face. She looks crestfallen as well. Ah, now I get it. They're all upset because Harry seems to be taken now. Is he? Are we something? My brains a maze of puzzles and is clouded with confusion. Why does a kiss always have to change so much? Now, I don't know where Harry and I stand. My heart thudding against my chest, I take my hand away from Harry's and run backstage. I need some alone time. Not space, just some time to think through what happened.
"Mus!" Harry calls from behind, but I don't turn around. Instead, I quicken my pace and try to remember the way back to the parking lot.