Harry
At ten o'clock I arrive at the publishing house's office building. Ben is probably already waiting for me. His secretary eyes me curiously as I enter her outer office.
"Good morning," I say in greeting and take my documents under my arm so that the loose sheets of paper don't fall out of the folder.
"Morning. There you are, Mr. Styles", grins the receptionist mysteriously and rubs her palms together. I'm surprised.
"I'm Becky." she says and reaches out her hand briskly.
"Harry," I mumble, reaching for her Hand.
"Shall I tell you something?" I'm nodding.
She keeps me waiting and makes it exciting. What does she want to tell me?
"My boss is already very excited and has transformed his office into a restaurant. Well, you didn't hear this from me, Harry."
" What?" I am blushing. "What does that mean, he transformed his office into a restaurant?"
I stopped, in front of her table, not sure what to do and condemn this meeting which seems to get out of control after only a few seconds.
"Miss, you haven't answered my question. What ..."
The young woman interrupts me in the middle of the sentence: "Oh, that. Well, I think Mr. Winston has a little weakness for you, Harry," giggles Becky and draws hearts on a paper. "Well, he doesn't talk about it, but since he went to lunch with you, he's been acting like a teenager... if you know what I mean. And as a woman, I know exactly what that means."
Confused about what she's saying, I shake my head.
"No, I don't think I quite understand what you mean. What exactly are you trying to tell me, Becky?"
"Well, it's not that hard, Harry. He is in love with you. You have turned his head. All right?"
A huge smile graces her lips and her blue eyes are shining with joy. You might think Becky is the one who found her great love.
"Oh." I murmur, and I'm completely at a loss.
"Oh? Is that all? Not exactly the joy I imagined," she says. The pretty secretary is shaking her head. "You're not exactly what is called an exuberant person, Harry."
"Becky, listen. I'm a little uncomfortable with this conversation. I honestly have no idea what you're talking about and hardly know your boss. Do you understand? And to get to the point: I am happily married - to a woman."
She rises from her chair, runs to the copier, puts in some papers and explains by the way:
"So what? Come on, be brave. So you're married? Oh, it's not the end of the world! Who knows, maybe you'll fall in love with my boss. Are you sure you're not bisexual after all?"
Becky is laughing hard at her joke, which I don't find funny. If she only knew how close she is to the truth.
"But now go to the office and good luck." When I say goodbye she winks at me and I feel as if I' m in a gay bar and have my first date with a man.
Has everyone gone crazy?
Ben's secretary discouraged me. I don't know what to expect. An editor in love who wants to seduce me? I really wasn't expecting that. That's just what I needed! Zayn is still in my mind. It takes months, maybe even years to come to terms with all this.
I knock timidly, open the door and it takes my breath away.
It's not an office anymore I step into, it's a restaurant for two. Honestly. I've never seen anything like this before. If I were a woman, I would feel like a princess. I am really impressed. There is a smell of delicious food. For having breakfast time and an official meeting, Ben has made sure there is nothing missing. Wow.
In the middle of the room a stunning looking Ben Winston in a dark suit is standing and beaming at me.
"Harry." he breathes in my ear.
I'm so overwhelmed, I am lost for words. What should I do in case like that? Ben leaves no scope for my thoughts. Surprised by his welcoming, I blush and am still speechless.
"You can't imagine how much I've been looking forward to seeing you again.", he whispers into my ear and I smell an expensive cologne. He smells so good at all. "You say nothing at all. Don't you like it?" A slight disappointment is in his voice.
"Mr. Winston, uh Ben, I don't know what to say, to be honest," I admit.
"Oh, you don't have to, Harry. I thought I'd surprise you and...Oh, more about that later. Are you hungry?"
I nod gratefully, still totally impressed, that somebody puts in such a effort for me. "I'm starving."
"Well, take a seat, beautiful man." He adjusts my chair, takes a rose from the bouquet of flowers out of it and presents it to me with a promising smile.
Zayn
London is greeting me with rainy weather. Shortly after my arrival I get into a taxi which takes me to the hotel. While raindrops dripping off the window pane, I try to get some impressions of the metropolis. The weather is how I feel. It is bad, really bad even.
In about two hours I have the appointment with Mr. Grimshaw and even look forward to it. He will cheer me up with his humor and I really need that. Harry hasn't contacted me and, frankly, I've given up making more calls. It's the way it is - fucked up.
The hotel is very close to the "Tate Gallery London" and I walk there. The air is brisk and clear and is blowing away all my gloomy thoughts. Grimshaw greets me friendly and invites me into his office. He is wearing a very British looking suit again, which brings a smile to my face.
"Malik, I'm glad you could make it. I hope you can stay a few days longer. The city is just right for you - youthful, exciting and interesting. It's full of potential art lovers and admirers of your paintings," he says, asking me to take a seat.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Grimshaw. I'm curious to see if the Londoners will like my paintings."
"Oh, come on, Malik. People will fight to get them. Just your self-portrait in black and gold and the painting with the green eyes are worth spending the last money on it."
I flinch at his words and immediately reminded of the wonderful time with Harry. These two paintings are my sacred objects and not for sale. I would never give away Harry's portrait, not for all the money in the world. It is my last and only memory of him. I am attached to the work with all my heart.
"Did I say something wrong, Zayn?" Grimshaw looks at me and pats me compassionately on the shoulder. "Forgive me, Zayn. I didn't want to throw salt on the wound. These paintings mean a lot to you, don't they?"
"No, no... it's nothing," I answer and simply want to close this chapter of my life so that I no longer have to suffer.
"Well, that' a relief. After all, you should have a good time here and not drown in grief. But let me introduce you to someone. He is, so to speak, responsible for your exhibition. A very educated, committed young man. I hope you will get along very well with each other. At first glance, my colleague may seem a bit...well, unconventional, but he knows what he's doing, believe me."
The gallery owner runs to the telephone, dials a number and sends for this young man. While we were waiting for him, his secretary brought coffee and sandwiches and scheduled the coming days with us. We' ll have a busy schedule.
A few minutes later the door is opened and a young man storms in casually dressed.
"Sorry, Grimmy, I couldn't get here any faster. The traffic jam in the city centre...you know that," he says out of breath, grabs a sandwich from the plate and throws himself at the sofa without even looking at me. Hungry he eats the bread and leans back.
The gallery owner clears his throat and is far from enthusiastic about the behaviour of his colleague. With an angry look, he points in my direction to draw his attention to me.
"Gavin, you're storming in here, lolling on the sofa, overlooking the star of the art industry. I don't have words," grumbles Nick.
This Gavin, immediately jumps up and lowers his head in shame and lowers his gaze. While Grimshaw wants totally dying inside right now, I watch with great amusement. The guy is absolutely hilarious and somehow I find his nature wonderfully different. I like that. He seems exactly the opposite of me and Grimshaw - open, forceful, unconventional. But it's hard to imagine working with him. He looks more like a musician. I hardly believe that he has an understanding of art. Well, that remains to be seen.
"Mr. Malik, may I introduce your personal assistant and second gallery owner, Mr. Gavin Rossdale, to you? And sorry for this kind of behavior and delay. I'm used to it, but it shouldn't have happened today."
Rossdale is stepping forward, wiping his palms off on his jeans and reaching out his hand to me. He has a firm grip, a bright smile and incredibly beautiful teeth. Well... he's got a smile that's to die for.
"Gavin, to you, sir. I like it more casual," he says and I'm still staring at his teeth.
"Zayn Malik, very pleased to meet you. I'm also very much looking forward to our cooperation," I reply and pray that this won't end in a fiasco. I' m not quite convinced of his talent yet. Well, if Grimshaw praises him so much, he must be good. I trust Nick."
"Now that you've met, I suggest Mr. Rossdale show you around the gallery. We'll meet at my office at nine o'clock tomorrow morning," Grimshaw says, repeating " on time" once again for the second gallery owner. He rolls his eyes and moans. "So Gavin, no excuses about traffic jams in the city centre or the like. You'll just have to get up earlier. If you weren't so brilliant, I'd have fired you long ago," his boss jokes.
A short nod of agreement and then everyone is leaving the room.
"We'll make it quick, won't we?" whispers Rossdale, so his boss won't hear him. "Because I'm still pretty tired. I had a long, exciting night," he says to me with a wink.
"You went out, Gavin? But not all night long? It's the middle of the week", I say and look at him blankly. I look at his face, which doesn't look tired. It is evenly beautiful.
"Oh yes, Mr. Malik, I went out," he laughs daringly and doesn't quite understand my question. "Is that a problem for you?"
"No, no...as long as it doesn't affect your work, I have no problem with your nightlife."
Better I enlighten him about my expectations. I can't stand tardiness and sloppiness, no matter how good he looks.
"Do you like going to clubs?" he asks and his face lights up with joy, because I seem to have hit his nerve.
Somewhat embarrassed about his forceful manner and my boring life, I think about an answer.
"Well, I'm might be old-school and I'm quite a bore and don't remember the last time I was in a club," I say and suddenly feel very old next to him.
The guy grins mischievously and I look at his sparkling white teeth again.
"Oh, come on. You don't look that old! Life is too short not to enjoy it to the fullest," he replies and gives me a sexy wink. "Then we already have an appointment for tonight - don't argue with me."
I hesitate. Actually I wanted to go to bed early.
"I'll take that as a yes. Done then? I'll pick you up at the hotel later and then we'll have fun. Are you agreed with this?"
Before I can convince him otherwise, he pulls a pencil out of his pocket and hands it to me.
"Just write the name of the hotel on my arm, including your phone number," he says. "I'll call you," he says, holding his forearm out to me.
I write the address and my phone number on his bare skin, which is soft and warm. Meanwhile I feel his breath in my neck and am fascinated by his charisma.
Rossdale makes me a little nervous. Brown eyes, brown curly hair, slightly feminine facial features, very athletic physique and beautiful white teeth. Gavin Rossdale is hot. Let's hope it will be all right !
Later in the hotel I lay on my back, my arms folded behind my head and staring up at the ceiling.
This Rossdale is a cheerful person. He goes through life with cheerfulness and good looks and seems to be free of sorrow and pain. Why can't my life take such a turn?
I look at my phone and wish Harry would send me a message. My mailbox is and remains empty. I try my luck again. With a trembling hand and a beating heart I dial his number for the umpteenth time. It is ringing and I listen.
Harry
During my brunch with Ben, my phone rings. I am so thankful for this, because my editor is beginning to get on my nerves as he courts me. As nice as he has imagined it all with both of us, as much as he is in love with me, I hate the whole thing. I don't want to walk out of one relationship straight into another ...and certainly not after such a short time.
Winston is much too pushy and kitschy. I'm not a woman you have to win with roses, candles and chocolates. I' m a man and that's how I want to be treated. Zayn never treated me like a woman. We are both very manly. With Ben, on the other hand, getting to know each other, the engagement and the wedding are all in a day. That is clearly too much, too early for my taste and the most important thing: he is not my type.
My heart only beats for one man. Zayn.
I apologize to him and leave his office to take the call. Without even looking at the screen, I press the green button and die in almost the same breath.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Harry." He is speaking in a soft voice.
Oh my God, how these two words affect me. My whole body is shaking and Zayn immediately takes possession of me.
"Harry? Are you still there?"
"Yes, I am."
"Haz, please don't hang up. Please. Just listen to me," he pleads and his voice cracks.
"What do you want?" I answer as calmly as possible so as not to reveal my excitement.
"Haz, I...I want..."
"Do you want to apologize?" I interrupt his stammer. "The great, famous Malik wants to apologize to me for his behavior? That's hard to believe," I nag and feel tears in my eyes again, it hits me so hard.
Zayn is holding me emotionally hostage.
"Yes, I do and I have much more to say, Harrehh," he whispers and the way he is saying my name, goes right through me.
"Oh, come on, everything's all right. So why the drama and all the effort? You don't have to feel guilty. And you don't have to call the asshole. The asshole has understood that you 're fucking around anything with a heartbeat." , I say sarcastically.
"Harry, please. Let me say something about that." he complains.
"What for? You made your point the other day, don't you think?"
"Harry, I am terribly sorry. If I could, I would undo it...", he says in a broken voice.
"But you can't do that", I yell at him through the line and wipe away my tears at the same time.
"I know and I hate myself for it."
"Well, then there's two of us and for once we' re in full agreement."
"Harry? "
"Malik, can we finally end this unnecessary phone call? Save your lies. We're wasting precious time, Zayn."
The opposite is true. I am happy to hear his warm voice and want to fall in his arms. That is what I really feel. I miss Zayn so much and nothing can stop my longing for him.
"Besides, I'm on a date with Ben right now, and I hate to keep him waiting. He treats me like ... like a princess," I continue and know it's a lie, but it just slipped out of my mouth.
"What?" Zayn stammers through the phone. "You have a date with the guy from the restaurant? You're his princess?"
I feel the silence between our breaths. We are torturing ourselves with unspoken thoughts.
"I love you Harry and only you," I hear him whisper and then he suddenly hung up.