Dreaming Of You // Harry Styles

I stayed quiet for a while as in shock, trying to retain my sensations of Jeanne. When I finally recovered I saw the boys were looking at me puzzled. Then I remembered her annotation on my skin and took my shirt off.

“She has written down something on my back. Please, read it for me,” I muttered showing my shoulder blade to Zayn.

“It says: ‘Puisqu’il faut une fin, puisqu’on ne se verra plus jamais de la vie.’ What does it mean?” He mumbled, frowning his eyebrows.

“Please, use your translator,” I begged him. Zayn slowly began to type grabbing my shoulder. “Louis, please; look at this one for me. It’s Latin…” I handed him the piece of paper from my pocket and my iPhone.

“Because an end is needed, because we shall never see each other again…” Zayn read and I shook my head, dizzy. She said it wasn’t important but it was.

“I have to see her again…” I mumbled.

“Harry…” Liam and Niall murmured in unison.

“I do not love you, Sabidius, I cannot tell you why. This only can I say, I do not love you…–––Louis read quietly. It’s an epigram written by a Roman poet called Martial.”

“It seems she doesn’t want to see you again, Harry,” Liam said giving me a pity look.

“She’s just scared, that’s all…” I asserted trying to convince myself, leaning my head against the window.

“She doesn’t look scared to me…” Louis said glancing at me with my iPhone between his hands. By the smirk on his face I understood he was going through my camera roll.

“Give me that, Louis,” I snapped jumping over him. He dodged me and passed my mobile to Liam, who was sitting in front of him. Niall quickly leapt to his side as well as Zayn.

“Is this her, Harry?–––Liam mumbled pointing at the screen. She’s smashing…”

“Please, Harry, tell us everything!” Louis wilfully shouted lying across the seat.

“Yes, was this before or after sex?” Niall blurted with my iPhone on his hand. I rolled my eyes at him.

“I won’t–––I grumbled. Not now…” Louis straightened up by my side, curious about what I was going to say.

“Why not?” Niall and Zayn snapped, dejected.

“Because I want something more…”

“At least tell us she fulfilled the expectations…” Niall insisted.

“Would I be like this if she hadn’t?”

–.–.–

Was Jeanne scared or simply not interested anymore? I couldn’t shake that question from my head all day long. During sound check my mind was literally elsewhere. Every time I moved a flash from her crossed my thoughts. Even when I didn’t want to I was recalling everything we did together. For moments I remembered something that made me feel hopeful, but another times I was just falling in despair. But although I was in pain I loved every memory.

I knew Jeanne was that sort of girl you don’t fully understand, especially me, not very accustomed to feminine complexity. She had nothing to do with me and what I’m used to. She was practically a Doctor at La Sorbonne; she was into literature, languages, art, psychology… She used to write in scientific magazines, travelled, she was a true cosmopolitan, interested in so many things I knew nothing about. Sure she was hot and loving towards me, but maybe that’s the way she was with every one of her lovers. God, I hated the idea. Yes, morning sex was certainly a milestone in my sex life, well, as every time with her to be sincere, and she seemed quite moved on our last hours together, but perhaps she always was sensitive and emotional, not only with me. No, she had to feel something for me. She was writing a thesis about me; her Fan Fictions were about me; she said I made her change her mind and that I was special. She allowed me to make love to her without a condom… Yes, but there were ten missing condoms on that box she previously used with somebody else… I was going mental.