Is this love, is this it?
If it is I like it
And if it's love
Please stay love, don't go away love
Don't go away
This isn't love - Jaymay
"YOU DID IT again," Gemma pointed out.
"What?" I asked lifting my gaze from my cell phone screen to look at her.
"You called me Liv," she stated, "I reckon Freud would have made a case study of this by now."
Looking down and away I shook my head, "Sorry, I swear it's unintentional."
"I know it is, that's what makes it disturbing," she beamed, checking on me out of the corner of her eye, "you need to find a way to talk to her, H."
I fall silent and she shakes her head, her pastel pink hair following the movement, "Trust me, I'm not her biggest fan after what she did to you in Paris..."
"Gems, we've already gone through this, she was being honest about her feelings, and you were too hard on her over the phone," I was defending Liv, again.
"It was your bloody birthday, H!" She lost her temper for a second before breathing deeply and insisting, "but anyways, you should try to talk her again."
I nodded just to appease her and fixed my attention on the road. That was a road that I'd probably driven on over a thousand times; London to my Mom's house. I know every curve and turn and I even recognise some of the trees and houses along the way. I usually drive but this time Gemma insisted we went together in her new car. It's good to enjoy the ride from the passenger's seat every once in a while.
"For the record, I like her better than that Lauren girl," Gemma offered.
"I've already told you I'm not with her, she just showed up at the fundraising and clung to me."
I mean, six months before that I would have probably bent Lauren over the bathroom counter and obliged to her intentions. But I haven't been the same ever since Liv appeared in my life. I tried to date a few girls after she left me, but failed. Nobody was remotely like her or made me feel the way she did.
"That was not at all how it looked like, how about next time try telling her you are not interested, you ruined your one chance to talk to Olivia," she proceeded with her preaching.
"As if I could get anywhere near her with that Ken doll bloody lawyer all over her all night," I spat.
I'm usually a very peaceful man, but the mere thought of that cocky knobhead near Liv turned me into a caveman. When I received the invitation to the fundraising I had one thing in my mind and one thing only: used the opportunity to talk to Liv. I cleared my schedule, put on my best suit, and went on a mission. The moment I walked into the hotel I spotted her across the room talking to Alejandro Gonzáles Iñarritu, I knew they were friends, so I was relieved. When her eyes found me a spark of hope kindled in me as I watched her smile at me.
I was so focused on her that I didn't see Lauren walking towards me. She and I had an on and off thing for a few years; it was never anything serious and we both knew. Of all nights, she chose that one to attempt to reignite our affair, locking arms with me and flirting unabashedly. The next thing I knew that wanker lawyer was hugging Liv and placing his hand on the small of her back. I eventually managed to get Lauren out of my hair, but it was too late, that Ken doll was clinging onto Liv like a limpet.
I used my last card when I saw her going to the ladies' room and, with the risk of looking like a proper stalker, I waited outside for her. She came out and I was blocked, I wanted to tell her that I missed her, that I had written so many songs about her that I had enough material to release albums until my dying day, that I loved her and would leave anything for her if she just asked me to. But I made a fool of myself just stuttering nonsense and, to make matters worse, Lauren followed me there. After that disaster attempting to talk to her seemed impossible.
I discovered the true meaning of 'breathtaking' the first time I saw Olivia. I'm not exaggerating when I say that was the overall feeling Liv gave me from day one. The fact that I was 17 probably contributed, but six years later I wasn't that far away from that feeling either. I remember that moment like it was yesterday. The lads and I were chuffed when we were told we were invited to attend a movie premiere at Leicester Square; facing the paps, the red carpet, and a room full of celebrities we only dreamed of meeting before the X factor were the main reasons.
I saw her across the room at the after-party while Niall and I were refilling our plates at the catering table.I couldn't put a name to her face at firs but I recognised the man that proudly had his arm around her waist: Matthew Lambert. He was in many comedies and action movies that I had watched. It was Niall who told me she was Olivia Ferrari, an Oscar winner and the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. She had a red lace dress that tightened around her curves in the sexiest yet classiest way, her dark blonde hair was tucked behind her ears and, if she had makeup on, it was only enhancing her natural beauty. She was perfect and I needed her to know I existed.
Approaching them I introduced myself expecting she would fall at my feet in love, apparently being a teenage pop star clouded my judgment. She politely greeted me back and perhaps thought I was someone's son; she only had eyes for her boyfriend. I walked back to Niall defeated and emotionally bruised. Little did I know five years later I would have a proper chance to be with her.
When I saw her across the room at the SNL rehearsals talking to Niall and Liam, all I wanted was to end my phone conversation and, as soon as I did, I followed her outside the room to say hello. I stood behind her like an actual creep while she was on the phone unaware of my presence. I quickly knew she was speaking to her boyfriend and the coldness in her tone gave me hope. I probably shouldn't have preyed on her weakened relationship, but it was hard to fight against my instinct. At first, I thought it was pure lust and I acted consequently. Like a douche, that is. My attitude got me a few reprimands from her that only made me respect and appreciate her more. I don't mean to brag, but honestly, no other woman had told me off for trying to seduce her before.
"Could you?" Gemma's voice brought me back from my mental recount and I realised we had stopped at a petrol station.
"What?" I asked disoriented.
"Where are you?! I was asking if you could buy some snacks at the shop," she was evidently losing her poise.
" 'Course," I said opening the passenger's door and heading to the store.
I properly knew I had fallen for Liv after we had sex the first time and I was desperately looking for excuses to see her again. It wasn't just about the amazing shag we had - which was indeed mind-blowing - it was that I needed to have her beside me at all time. It was such a new feeling for me, I didn't know exactly how to cope. I almost broke my Mum's heart by hopping on a plane on Christmas day to be with her because I couldn't bear the thought of her being alone. I had to settle for sending a basket and pass out on homemade eggnog to avoid a family crisis instead. On New Year's Eve, I couldn't take it anymore and flew to New York just to kiss her at midnight. The following days I spent at her house mentally planning ahead a new excuse to see her. Her ex showed up and I thought it would ruin everything I had been patiently building, but I was pleasantly surprised when she ended up agreeing to see me again.
The tree-house was Gemma's suggestion and it was perfect. Those four days changed everything for me. We connected in a way we hadn't before. One afternoon I woke up with my arms around her and it was crystal clear that I was where I wanted to be for good. I never felt so complete and content with anything or anyone in my life. That was when I could finally name the feeling. If that wasn't love then I don't know what love is.
Then Paris came along and it all went downhill from there. I was so excited to know she would be with me on my birthday, so consumed by her presence that I forgot to send someone to pick up Gemma at the airport. It took me a few days until my sister finally forgave me. Everything seemed to be so perfect that when Liv told me she wanted to end things I was shocked.
Crushed.
The conversation we had that night still haunted me. I should've said so many things to her, fight back. I just choked like an idiot and left instead. I was gutted when I came back to her room a few hours later to discover she had gone back to New York. I still couldn't forgive myself for making her cry. She was concerned about our age gap, but I honestly didn't see a problem. I also understood she wasn't exactly enjoying all of the attention we were drawing towards us, which had ruined relationships for me in the past. There wasn't much I could really do to prevent it but was trying to be extremely cautious with her. Unfortunately, when it comes to the media it never seems to be enough.
"You are awfully silent H, what is it?" My sister asked while chewing on a crisp, "It's about Liv, innit?" She pushed further, reading my mind as usual.
I sighed and hummed in agreement.
"What if you just tell her about the songs you had written for her? You have a million, you even titled a song after her! Could be an icebreaker, right?" Her suggestion gave me a brilliant idea.
When she told me to stop calling or writing, I felt like I was drowning. Wanting to know about her, to be with her, to listen to her voice was my instinct. She was asking me to fight against my instinct, but there was nothing I could do but respect her wishes. After finding myself unconsciously about to hit dial way too many times and even giving my phone to Liam to control myself, I decided I needed to find a way to channel that impulse. So I started writing. Every day, anywhere and at any time, whenever I felt like talking to her I did it through my lyrics. I even kept a notebook on my nightstand for when I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about her. I had never been so prolific in my life and that was when I knew it: she was my muse. Even the songs I wrote years before meeting Liv somehow spoke to me about her. She was in everything.
The way she looked at me across the room at the fundraising gave me the faint hope that maybe I still had a chance. I just needed to figure out how to reach out to her without looking like a pushy stalker like I did before. Worst case scenario I would be back on square one with my heart shattered. It was worth the risk. She deserved that I went the extra mile. Always.
Suddenly it hit me and I mentally patted myself on the back for the amazing idea I had just had.
"What's gotten into you?" Gemma asked looking at the full grin that had curved in my face seconds before.
"I have a plan," I announced nodding with full conviction as we made our way across my Mum's driveway.