About (Harry Styles)

2.

"Why don't you want to go?" I ask Marco as we settle into the backseats of the trolley. He takes the window seat, and I sit in the open chair next to him. Usually I get the window seat but since he's my best friend, I'll let this one slip.

"I don't want to involve myself with," he interrupts himself, figuring out how to finish his thought. "With people like them."

"People like them?" I ask, not sure of what he's trying to get at.

"Yeah, you know, celebrities."

"Yeah, okay," I reply, unconvinced with his reasoning. "Celebrities are people too, Marco."

"Look, Ellie--"

"Hey," I interrupt him, placing my hand over his mouth. "How many times have I told you to not call me that?"

He rolls his eyes and gently removes my hand.

"You didn't say anything about it before," he points out.

"I let that one go because Niall Horan was there and I didn't want to come off as mean, or high maintenance."

"But you are both those things," he laughs, and I shoot him a disapproving look. "Sorry, Ellie's just easier to say." He uses this explanation every time. "It won't feel right to go, and I'd feel so out of place. That's not my world. I won't overstep my boundaries like a certain someone and end up being hurt."

I try to pretend like I don't know what or who he's talking about...

"Marco, it's only a dinner with two people...who so happens to be Niall Horan and Rory .. something." He raises his brows, and I plead guilty for not knowing his last name. He expects me to remember these kinds of things since they're important to him. I get it. "How often can you have dinner with people like that? People would pay good money to be in the same room with them. Don't let this opportunity slip away."

He sighs heavily, his hand scratches the top of his head, and I give him my best puppy eyed look. Marco usually gives in by now. He's not that easy of a person to persuade, so this usually works. Usually.

"I understand you want me to go," he hesitates again. "Because you want to get your foot in the door of that kind of world but --"

"Hey! That is not the reason I want you to go. I am not that selfish." It seems true for one second, even I almost believe myself. He knows me too well. Everyone knows I'm a tiny bit selfish, but I have the best intentions for Marco. He's my best friend. "I genuinely want this for you."

"Okay, say, you do want this for me. But don't lie to me. A part of you wants me to go so that I might, at the slightest chance be friends with Niall Horan."

"Explain how that is selfish of me, Marco Dexter Miller," I cross my arms and turn my upper body towards him. "Would it be so bad to be his friend?"

"Forget it." Marco only says that when he's hiding something.

"No, I won't forget it. You need this. It's your dream to play professional golf. And maybe you can even play professional soccer once you establish your name out there. This could be your gateway, the beginning to your future."

His lips press into a thin line, and his elbows lean onto his knees as he leans forward. He keeps his gaze onto the floor of the bus, and I almost want to apologize for pushing him so hard.

"Fine," he mumbles defeatedly, and I squeal in excitement. "But I'm only doing this for you."

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" I shout. Reaching into my messenger bag, I pull out Niall Horan's handkerchief with his number on it and hand it to Marco. He wears an uncertain expression, and I give him a reassuring smile.