‘Holy mother of god, let me die.’
‘Come on, Ép. That wasn’t too bad.’
‘“Wasn’t too bad?” Harry, that was the worst thing ever.’ My forehead thudded against the door. ‘Let me melt into a pool of humiliation,’ I mumbled against the wood. Breathing in deeply on account that I was about to hyperventilate, I felt Harry’s soothing presence behind me as he peeled my body away from the door, into his arms.
‘Now now, your mother was charming.’
‘Harry, for all intents and purposes, she caught Liam and I in bed.’
As soon as the words tumbled through my lips, Harry froze, his rapid body language suggesting his unaware knowledge of this.
Oh fudgecakes.
‘What?’ His squeeze on my body loosened. ‘You slept with Liam?’
‘No, no, no!’ I hurriedly responded.
‘Then?’ Harry quizzed.
‘It wasn’t like that, I promise you.’
‘Then what was it?’
I tried to speak, but all that came to mind was a tangled botch of words whirling around my brain. Massaging the back of my neck, I craned my head in the direction of the floor. I was too scared to look at Harry’s eyes. Let alone try and explain what happened with one of his best friends.
Detecting a change of air in the scene, I lifted my head and witnessed Harry’s eyes bulge out of its sockets as he jerked me around by the wrist.
‘What’s that on your neck?’ he interrogated. Brushing the side of his index finger against my skin, I let out a wince as I realized that Harry was demanding an answer about the hickey near my collarbone.
‘Harry, it-’
He cut me off with a swift glare. ‘'Ponine, what did you do with Liam?’
‘Harry, we didn’t go that far when I realised he wasn’t you-’
‘Éponine, answer my question.’ His slow enunciation and rather steady breathing meant proper business. ‘What did you and Liam do?’ He pensively asked.
‘W-we kissed and, erm, we sort of got to that stage where things got heated up…’ I squeaked. I could feel my body completely shaking under Harry’s glare as he towered over me, slowly backing my body against the wall and leaving no route to escape.
Never in my life had I seen Harry like this. His angry, dark side had always seemed shrouded deep inside him… to be replaced by this genuine, happy-go-lucky personality that I definitely didn’t take for granted. Although, I wasn’t going to lie, I felt incredibly intimidated. But at the same time, I felt… turned on.
My stomach churned apprehensively, the intense stare of his eyes gradually breaking my body down bit by bit as I scrutinized the way his lips moved desirably close to mine. I bit my lip, hard.
‘He touched you, didn’t he?’ I heard him say.
‘Harry-’
‘Did he or did he not touch you?’ he growled, placing his hands on the wall either side of my head.
Gulping, I whispered, ‘He did.’
I carefully gazed at Harry’s face, inches from mine, as his pupils danced across my eyes, reading my emotions as if I was an open book. His expression was entirely unreadable that I couldn’t distinct the multiple emotions flashing across the flecks of blue in his eyes, darkening against the sunshine reflection and creating a somewhat illusion that fascinated me by its simple beauty.
‘Where?’ He commanded.
I began to protest again but I was instantly stopped by Harry’s brash words, straight away silencing me for him to deal with.
‘I asked you a question,’ he murmured, leveling his face with mine. ‘Where?’
Glancing in to his eyes, I then averted my eyes in the direction of the floor, hoping that Harry would get the message. Even though Harry was slightly daunting me, that didn’t stop my face from flushing a deep shade of red.
‘He touched you there, did he?’ Harry clarified. My head bobbed up and down, confirming his question. All of a sudden, I spotted a change of emotion in Harry’s eyes as his contracted jaw loosened, his expression softening as a result. However, my thoughts that Harry had slightly calmed down were dashed in an unexpected turn of events.
One that left my mind reeling. Yanking my arms, he spun me around until the heat of his chest traveled along the length of my back. His breath glided across my cheeks, drifting past my ear as he unhurriedly moved his mouth against the shell of my ear, the soft texture of his lips barely grazing my face yet the tickle of his curls practically intensifying the proximity of how close he was.
Bringing one of his hands to the waistband of my underwear, a finger slipped underneath it.
‘Did he put his hand here?’ Harry asked, his mouth carefully pronouncing every letter for me. Lacing his long fingers with mine, he brought it close to my aching area. I could practically see his lips twitch up when I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart racing and thumping hard against my chest. Light-headedness vaguely overtook me as I unsteadily focused all my concentrated effort on the floor beneath my feet - until Harry chose to carry along with the act of torture.
‘Did he…?’ Trailing off, I sensed Harry stirring to the other side of my face, his fingers finding their way to my chin. Gently grasping it, my head twisted in the direction of his, giving him an easier access to whisper words that he knew would make me completely wet.
‘… I want you, baby. Won’t you come to me?’ With the careful stroke of his fingertips against my throat, I found my hand contorting beneath his from the pain of having to struggle with the pleasure slowly building up inside of me.
‘I’m not mad at you,’ Harry suddenly spoke in my ear, the undertone of his voice meeting well with my eardrums.
‘What?’ I asked, jerking my head away from him.
‘Well, I’m only mad that Liam got to leave you a lovebite and I didn’t.’
‘Harry-, I-, you-.’ Taking in a deep breath, I let the air stream out. The sudden outrage was uncontrollable that I couldn’t even pinpoint on my thoughts of what Harry just did among the coil of curse words lodged in my skull.
‘You are a prick and I bloody hate you.’
I imagined Harry’s signature smirk planted on his face as he answered, ‘Then why are you still holding my hand?’
Wrenching out of his grip, I whirled around to face him in the most dignified fashion I could muster before storming away with my dressing gown I picked up along the way billowing behind me.
‘I have a brunch to assist.’
Charging into the kitchen, I let out an anguished cry of frustration and aggravation, one that interpreted the question that always came to mind whenever my day turned for the worst. Why me? Why bloody me? The rattling noise of ice cubes clinking against glass brought me from my self-loathing back to incessant reality, filling the void of tortured silence inhibited from recent experiences. One I hoped to never relive again.
‘What’s up with you?’ Maddi remarked. My forehead painfully throbbed from the recent contact against the island as I mumbled something unintelligible.
‘Huh?’
Sighing, I turned my head to find a puzzled Maddi propped up on the marble counter a few feet away from me, her tanned legs dangling off of the side.
‘One Direction,’ I muttered under my breath, the name a bad omen on my lips.
Maddi rolled her eyes. ‘What happened this time?’
‘I’ll explain later,’ I hurriedly mouthed, aware of the increasing noise of stiletto heels clacking against the floor.
‘Éponine, can you please go upstairs and get dressed? Lunch will be starting in twenty minutes and as much as I’m aware of you being involved in the lingerie industry, that does not give you the right to prance about-’
‘Okay, Mother.’
‘And don’t slouch, darling. I didn’t pay those ballet classes for you when you were young for nothing.’
‘Yes, Mother.’
Craning my neck, I watched her leave through the back door that led to the sprawling, vibrant garden; the large, oak trees boasting an air of authenticity as she crossed over to the pristine table shaded by the many extended branches, flaunting a perfect view of Calabasas.
‘So what happened?’ Maddi set down her glass of ice tea, cocking her head in an empathetic manner.
‘Mads,’ I groaned. ‘I think I just did something that’s granted me as a homewrecker.’
‘Why, what did you do?’
I stayed silent for a few seconds, thinking this through. The predicament was so complex; I couldn’t even comprehend how to admit it in front of my best friend without making her think I was… a slut?
‘I had sex,’ I blurted out.
Maddi’s hazel eyes enlargened. ‘You what?’
‘Well, not really.’
‘What do you mean “not really”? You can’t “not really” lose your virginity.’
‘We didn’t actually… you know.’ My eyes averted away from hers, before meeting once again with the confused orbs on her face. ‘We just sort of did stuff.’
‘Well, are you okay? When did you and Harry do it?’
Silence ensued the vast kitchen, leaving us with the company of the soft humming emanating from the refrigerator. Dust particles slowly floated underneath the yellow lighting, delicately casting a homely ambiance to the area, which I examined in depth.
‘Éponine, you did it with Harry… right?’
I didn’t get the chance to tell Maddi - privately, at least. Instead, I felt a presence intrude on our hushed conversation, relapsing a similar environment of apprehension.
‘Éponine, can I talk to you?’
I rapidly crossed over to the massive refrigerator situated next to the island, trying to distance the space between Liam and I as far as possible.
‘Yeah,’ I feebly replied, my voice noticeably raising an octave higher.
A snort and a stifle of giggles disrupted the tension as he hesitantly stepped into the light, fully clothed in a trademark plaid shirt and chinos - much to my relief. I shot a furtive glare at an amused Maddi.
‘Well then.’ She slipped off the counter, having taken my strained expression into comedic account. ‘I’m just going to go and leave you two to it!’ Her voice reached a thin texture at the end, evidently showing that she was struggling not to pee her pants laughing. On her way out the room with her ice tea, Maddi aimed a humorous expression and a gesture of approval in my direction behind Liam’s back. And at that moment, I was so furious and so confused and so… exasperated. Why was nobody taking this seriously?
A blast of cold air met my bare skin as my eyes absentmindedly scanned the contents of the refrigerator, hoping that what Liam had to say would be dealt with in a matter of seconds. Despite the decrease in temperature, I could feel my whole body begin to flush as Liam coughed. The embarrassment was apparent.
‘Listen, Éponine… I-I actually don’t know where to begin but with I’m sorry-’
‘It’s fine, Liam. Don’t worry about it.’ I sent him a plastered smile, not meeting his soft and guilty brown eyes.
‘No, it isn’t, Éponine. The fact that I just took advantage of you like that-’
‘Like I said, Liam. Don’t worry about it.’ I set down a carton of Tropicana’s on the marble top surface. ‘Hey, can you get a glass out of the cupboard?’ My finger directed him towards the white painted doors of the cupboard next to his head. Carefully pulling out a glass, he handed it to me, all the while assessing my façade. Which meant the flinch that overcame my body when our hands brushed didn’t go unnoticed.
‘See, ‘Ponine. It’s not fine,’ Liam murmured quietly.
I didn’t say anything. There was no point in arguing when Liam knew. Silently pouring myself a glass of juice, I stared as the orange liquid tumbled into the Villeroy & Boch glass.
Not once in my life had I expected for my virginity to be on the brink of being taken because I was horny and still a little bit drunk from last night.
Call me old-fashioned or slightly 90s but I still believed in the whole “making love” act with someone you were in love with. I loved Liam… but in that way? Never. He was Micah’s and Micah was his. So trying to wrap my head around the fact that his unsignificant movements caused my mind to even think to when he was moving underneath and above me? It was a mass destruction for the whole best friend/boyfriend quadrilateral.
Granted Harry didn’t appear to be angry. (I didn’t even want to cross paths with Micah yet, which proved a difficult challenge in itself.) But did that stop the guilt pounding in my unstable, train wreck of a conscious? Considering that I was stupid and intoxicated enough to go through with it, I felt like the most horrible person in the entire world. And I wanted to avoid thinking about it for as long as possible.
‘Liam, I just-’ My eyebrows furrowed as I placed my hands on the counter in front of me, trying to grope for the right words to say. ‘I feel so…’
There wasn’t a word in the dictionary that could describe what I was feeling. I knew I was making things more problematic than they already were by my bipolar responses. But I felt as if since Maddi and Harry were treating this like nothing, why couldn’t I?
I knew that wasn’t the case though.
The material of Liam’s shirt brushed my shoulder as he leaned over me, his eyes scanning the emotions flickering across my face. ‘Why?’
I shrugged, chewing on the skin of my lip. ‘I just do.’ It was almost like Liam understood, like he read my mind and all the thoughts that were whirling around my head.
‘I do too.’
‘Why?’
Liam half-heartedly chuckled. ‘I just do.’
I anxiously twisted the cap of the Tropicana carton between my fingers.
‘Is Micah angry at me?’
‘Surprisingly no.’
My fingers froze on the plastic cap. ‘Why not?’
‘She’s not ecstatic that we ended up in the same bed, mind. But she said it’s an even since she slept with Harry.’ My eyebrows furrowed. ‘Passed out next to him, don’t worry.’
‘Well, how am I supposed to not worry if them two didn’t do anything but we did?’ I debated.
Liam set his elbows on the counter, his brown, vacant eyes hinting that he had no clue.
‘I don’t know,’ he confirmed.
A collected breeze of fresh mowed grass filled my nostrils, but with every step I took, it was soon replaced with the overwhelming sensation of mouth-watering cooked food by Dottie.
I unwillingly took the only available seat squashed in between Liam and Harry, suddenly feeling my stomach vibrating in earnest. It was almost as if it could see the endless dishes of delicacy emanating a satisfying aroma wafting along the table.
‘Close your mouth.’ Zayn laughed. I stuck my tongue out at him; the clinking of cutlery against bowls resonating in my ears as I eagerly entered a fork of greasy bacon in my watering mouth.
‘My god, Éponine. It’s almost like you haven’t eaten for days!’
‘I’m sure it’s just because she’s been working hard, all that dancing and exercise she’s been doing,’ Harry defended politely. He turned to me and flashed a smile. His all-too righteous beam met the devious glint in his irises, an expression I knew too well to not be wary and alert of and soon enough, the length of his slender fingers icy against my skin brought an evident shudder. The rapid attention of his thumb applied just the right amount of pressure for me to get a certain idea about where his intentions were leading.
My jaws froze mid-chew as my fingers tightened around the handle of my fork, the metal biting into my skin. Abiding with the fact that friends and my mother and brother surrounded us, the temptation to succumb to those fingers of his was enough to bring my guard up.
Gently shoving his hand away from my thigh, I attended cutting up my frankfurter as if nothing had happened.
On the upside, my mother looked taken aback at Harry’s sudden input. Her crystal grey eyes narrowed in that attentively observant, inquisitive way as she placed her fork on the table, elegantly folding her hands underneath her chin afterwards. I could sense the many deductions of Harry being taken into account, discerning an impression of whether or not she liked or disliked the person calmly sitting beside me - his posture relaxed yet still attentive of his actions.
It was a wonder why she was doing this, considering she already knew Harry through Zayn and liked him well enough to call him as her own son. Maybe she was assessing whether or not he was deemed suitable for me to “intimately associate” myself with? I cringed at the thought. Knowing my overbearing mother, it was a definite possibility.
‘So, Harry,’ she piped up. Droplets of perspiration clung to the curved shape of her glass as she tipped its contents down her throat. ‘Do you think my daughter’s lovely?’
My eyes widened. ‘Mother!’ I hissed through my teeth.
On my left, Harry wiped the remains of maple syrup off his lips with a napkin before he voiced his thoughts. ‘I wouldn’t put it that way.’
My mother cocked an eyebrow. ‘No?’
‘Your daughter is more than lovely, she’sphenomenal.’
Ducking my head in embarrassment, I burned holes through the material of my white Naeem Khan Dot Cocktail dress, taking a sudden interest in the silver metallic dots presented among the skirt as I absentmindedly twiddled my fork in my fingers, hiding the flush on my face and the curious look in my mother’s pointed eyes.
‘Does that include her intelligence?’
‘The fancy words she uses whenever I’m around makes me wonder whether or not she’s a thesaurus.’ I pressed my lips together, fighting to hold back a smile. ‘But her knowledge really outdoes her.’
My mother nodded. She looked satisfied by Harry’s response. Looked.
‘Do you think she’s striking?’ My mother grilled.
‘If you’re asking if I think she’s stunning, then she’s beautiful.’ Simultaneously, Harry’s hand gripped the bare skin of my thigh, discreetly positioning my leg over his and leaving my lower body slightly elevated; legs open wide like the unintentional whore Harry was trying to coax out of me.
‘All right, so do you believe her beauty accounts her frame?’
‘I believe that Éponine’s weight doesn’t define her beauty.’
Air caught in my throat, Harry’s hand suddenly possessing every focus in me to hold back noises as I underwent the torturuous dance of his fingers slowly taking its time towards its destination. His lips twitched upwards, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
‘Stop,’ I barely whispered, my breath faintly shaking.
‘So you don’t think she’s skinny?’ She asked, taking another sip of her water. As if in response to my mother, Harry squeezed the toned body fat in my legs. Instantly, my mother drew her eyes towards the noise my fork caused as it fell out of my grasp with a clatter.
‘I prefer the term fit,’ Harry said. I inwardly rolled my eyes. Typical British slang, typical British teenage boy. ‘People overlap the meanings of “skinny” and “slim” and it manipulates the separation between “skinny” and “anorexic”. I don’t think Éponine’s anorexic, but I think she’s extremely healthy.’ To my relief, Harry’s hand continued its journey underneath my dress.
‘Do you think it’s today’s society that is to blame? For the pressures and expectations it presents to the public, especially our younger audience?’
‘Completely.’
‘And that’s why you have the song What Makes You Beautiful,’ she declared, smiling. My mother took another sip of her water.
‘Does that mean you approve of Éponine flaunting her body to the media, the public and in the eyes of men, especially at her age?’
At this point, I couldn’t handle anymore of my mother’s pounces on Harry’s somewhat disagreements. Admittedly, I should’ve stopped the quiz at the start. But unlike any other, curiosity and knowledge ruled over everything else and unearthing what Harry felt about me was unavoidable. I cleared my throat.
‘Mother, that’s enough,’ I countered, shooting her a look.
She held her hands up in surrender. ‘Fine, I’ll stop.’
I relaxed in my chair once again. ‘Thank you.’
‘But just one more question…’ I sighed, picked up my fork and unwillingly let her continue with reproachful silence.
‘Harry, how did you and my daughter – correct me if the term is incorrect – hook up?’
I paused amid the wary chewing of my food. ‘Mother!’
‘What? I’m just asking.’
‘Still, was it completely necessary to use that term?’
‘It’s okay, Ép,’ Harry gently reassured. ‘Well, you see Mrs M., Éponine and I-’
‘Ariel, are you feeling all right?’ All of a sudden, the loud rattle of dishes captured my interest as her clenched fist connected to the table - the pale colour of her knuckles almost blending to the white tablecloth. Zayn ducked down to peer at Ariel’s shrouded frame.
Slumped in her chair, the shadows of her hair masked the discomfort on her face though through wisps of caramel and dark chocolate, the unmistakeable sickly green peeked out from her white-sheet face as her white lips clamped together. With a timid nod, Ariel shot Zayn an unconvincing smile before composing herself.
‘I’m all right, just feeling a little bit…’ As soon as the words tumbled out of her lips, her cheeks bulged with the effort of restraining the baked beads that demanded to cascade down her Kate Spade dress.
The faint whispers of question from Zayn next brought another tentative nod to Ariel, and I watched in solidified concern as my brother’s eyes rapidly hardened in fear.
‘What’s wrong?’ Stephanie asked, rising out of her seat.
‘Ariel’s just feeling a little bit under the weather…’ Zayn trailed off, his eyes following Ariel’s cautious movements as Stephanie gently grasped her elbows, guiding her out of her seat and leading her towards the house.
‘Is she going to be okay?’ I asked Zayn, pressing my thighs together away from Harry’s hands.
He rubbed the back of his neck, easing his head to the side to allow the pressure of his fingers to massage the panic settled in his muscles. ‘She’s just feeling sick, it’s food poisoning so it’ll hopefully pass.’ His mouth moved quickly, as if almost hurrying to make it clear that Ariel had just caused an illness – nothing more serious than that. However, the fearful exterior he outrightedly posed meant another thing, and when his chocolate brown eyes met mine, I knew.
Morning sickness.
My mother pursed her lips and perched her elbow on the table, palpably noticing something direr than food poisoning. I was aware Zayn wanted to tell my mother about the recent news that he and Ariel were going to have a baby in the near future, in addition to deciding to raise the baby out of wedlock, despite the critical age and career he was engraved in. Really, there was no point in keeping it in any longer since the media proved liable in spotting baby bumps and digging dirt out of friends and family more efficiently than the FBI. Even though, their claims and artificial magazine articles towards Jessica Simpson were false on more than one occasion. I had an idea that today was the day that Zayn was going to share the information with my mother at some point, although he and I definitely didn’t expect it to be distributed abruptly in this kind of fashion.
‘Zayn, what’s going on?’
The Adam’s apple of my brother bobbed up and down in uneasiness as he fidgeted on the edge of his seat. ‘Well, Mum, there’s something I have to tell you… privately.’
Taylor made to excuse himself as he pushed his chair back, however the wave of my mother stopped him from doing so.
‘Honey, whatever you want to say to me, you can say here.’ Her manicured nails gestured towards us sitting ridgidly along the table. ‘They’re family.’
My gaze hovered in the direction of the long stretch of the table on my left hand side as I spotted the concentrated look in Maddi’s eyes casted downwards and the way Niall’s protruding cheeks and mouth had stopped chewing. Excluding my mother, every single individual seated at the table appeared as if we were feigning off a look of a statue, comparing the glassy, held stare and the miniscule movements and noise settled in our bodies. If the danger of the imminent bomb was apparent to everyone, our actions and the heavy cloud of tension would reciprocate back to my mother.
It seemed like hours until Zayn’s lips parted open, meanwhile unsteadily adjusting his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Turning towards the person seated at the end of the table on my right hand side, he collected a deep breath.
‘Mum, Ariel’s pregnant.’