III

"Girl, I want you to start wearing long, baggy jeans."

Let me introduce you to Mike Engel, brunette-y that got me this job with his friend Fletch. He's the photographer of the book I'm going to write about the tour of McFly. He happens to be gay, and he's the second reason why I didn't ran away on the other direction.

…

No, wait!

He's the first!

The first!

… And only!!!

Oh…

…………. Forget what I said.

Anyway, when Mike approached me with that kind of order, I looked at him surprised. If I have some long baggy jean in my wardrobe it's because it belonged to an ex. And I just kept it as a pajama. Now, who would use pajamas daily?

He looked at me exasperated. "You're distracting everybody with those artifacts of hell!!"

"Are you talking about… my legs?" I wondered, arching an eyebrow.

… Ok, trying to arch an eyebrow. I never could. It's one of my many frustrations in life. And I looked like a retard when I try to do that.

"What else? Your tits? Of course I'm talking about your legs!"

"I don't have long baggy jeans unless they are the pair I kept from Shawn when I made him leave naked my house for cheating on me, and I'm so not going to wear them even when I do wear his boxers." I stated.

Mike looked perplexed for a second or two. "Girl, you have the worst taste in men." He said and I couldn't reply anything. He was right. I couldn't deny that, when…

Anyway. Back to the story.

So I wait for something else to be said. "Well, then, wear capris or something like that. When you show more over your knees, straight men tend to imagine the thigh and then upper than that, and that take them directly to think about penetration, friction, and, therefore, sex. And when men think of sex, they get distracted, aroused and horny. And that, my girl, it's only a good thing when it works for me, not against me. I don't appreciate having almost everyone near me with a boner I didn't cause."

I laughed, couldn't help it. He's crazy. "If you take me shopping, I'll wear that, and not my lovely shorts."

He nodded. "Promise it."

"Promised!" I nodded eagerly. Any excuse it's a great excuse for shopping with my super stylish buddy!

After that, I kept working on the book (I love to say it, did you notice?), fixing what I had so far. Which was next to nothing, except more than one declaration of Harry saying how much he would fuck me until I couldn't sit for months. His words, not mine. That, and some words from the rest of the band about the gigs and all. They were nice. Harry wasn't.

"Hey, Lula! What are you doing?"

I turned around and smiled at Maggie. Really, the girl was beautiful and it annoyed me she didn't even notice it! And she didn't have to try to look like that either. Maybe that's what happens when a boy like Danny looks at you like he looks at her, you glow, or something corny like that.

"Writing." I announced happily, but quickly left that to another time. Maybe I could get some juicy information here… "Did you suffer this much in your trip around the States?" I wondered.

She giggled. "Well… if you consider the fact we had only one bathroom and we practically never stayed in hotels… It was pretty hard. But if I survived that, I can survive anything now! Especially living with Danny." Maggie laughed.

"I can bet. I don't know what I would do if we never stayed in hotels."

Probably sleep with Harry, now that I think about it.

"Oh, you can survive, I promise. Worst case scenario, you would kill one of them, and as long as it's not Danny…"

We laughed.

"I think my first victim will be Mr. Hornypants himself."

"Harry, right?" I nodded. "He's not that bad when you know him."

"Or when you're married to his friend, therefore out of reach of his pervert hands." I grinned.

Maggie chuckled and nodded. "That can be a possibility, too. But… I think he likes you." She stated. Two seconds later, she was laughing of my face.

"What's so funny?" Danny, appearing out of nowhere, asked his wife. Maggie stopped laughing to explain her husband just what was so funny. He was laughing too when he understood.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep mocking me. I don't care. Really. You're only going to create a mental trauma, but that's ok. It's not your mental trauma. And there's psychiatrics too!" I said, a little too dramatically.

"You know? That way of…" Started Danny and I interrupted him.

"Being ready to go the whole time?"

"Staring. It's actually suspicious. Maybe he does like you, girl." He said beamingly. He was high, I just knew it.

"He does not. I swear."

"How can you know?" The married couple said at the same time. Was it an obligation to be married? Synchrony?

"When you like someone…" I started, but didn't know how the hell to end it. "He just doesn't!" I snapped, and stormed off with my laptop toward the balcony of Mike's room. His room was the biggest (don't know why, don't want to know) so everyone kept getting in and out the place.

I opened my blog, and started writing about the Ghost Hunting, and everything I could think of. Maggie, Dougie, Alex, cheating ex boyfriends, sex… and even Harry. When I posted the blog, Fletch called me from the hall, and dragged me to make some interviews to the working cast of the gigs. Part of the job, I guess. So I went, I didn't have much choice, and left my computer on the table.

It took me less than half an hour. I was quick when I wanted to.

…And that sound so wrong in so many ways…

Anyway.

When I opened the door to Mike's room…

I found him rocking the bed back and forth with his hips' movement against the butt of…

No, lying. You're gonna end up hating me, right? I can tell. I'm a witch, I know those things.

Anyway, I found Harry almost naked lying on the bed, with his lap top.

See? This is why he doesn't like me. He's gay and he's into…

Oh fuck.

I'm doomed.

Really.

I'm like the Penelope in that movie with Christina Ricci except I'm not cursed like that. I'm destined to die in a painful way, that too.

"That's my computer." I stated just for saying something. I was close to hyperventilation. He turned around with a knowing smirk, and sat down facing me with my computer over his (well toned and really sexy) legs.

"So." He said huskily. "You think I'm hot and… what was the other word?" He pretended to think about it, and then grabbed the computer and read it. "Oh, yeah. Steamy."

I glared at him, and made a move to grab my computer. But he had better reflexes than me, the clumsy stupid, and threw the computer to the floor with a swift movement to grab my waist, push me to the bed and get over me. He had his hands over my wrists at each side of my face, and my legs were pressed between his.

I blushed.

"You want me." He stated, not even caring about the politeness of ignoring that fact.

"And you were invading my privacy!" I complained. When I heard my voice I realized I had just admitted that.

Stupid me.

Harry nodded.

"And it's obvious I want you too." He added, ignoring my comment and pressing his hips against mine so I could feel even more the reaction of his lower torso. "I want to shag you senselessly for hours to no end." He admitted.

"I just want you to let me go. Get off me!" I exclaimed, but with my moving for him to let me go I only got him more excited. Which… in turned, aroused me.

What?! I told you I like dominant men!

"You're a dirty little girl." Harry said, licking my earlobe.

"And what if I am?" I snapped, and contrary to what you probably are thinking… I said it on purpose. I was mad, ok? And… I was even madder because I wanted him to let me go and at the same time… not.

"I like dirty little girls." He grinned, leaning closer to me. "I particularly like punishing dirty little girl. Do you like to be punished?" Harry asked all too seriously, rubbing my leg in the exact same place where Alex had smacked me before. I almost moaned.

"It depends on the punisher." I stated. I talked seductively, putting my arms around his neck after getting him to let me go. I moved my face up toward his, and licked his lower lip. And then I pushed him out of me. And grinned. "But you're not that appealing." I fixed my clothes, as Harry rolled down on the bed in frustration. "Bye, babe." I said, waving at him and closing the door behind me.

Right about there, I jumped inside again.

Ok… you need to know this. I'm what you could call promiscuous, in some way. I have as many boyfriends as Paris Hilton, Drew Barrymore, and Mike together, but the difference is… I never end it well. And I'm always the one with the heart broken in a proverbial way, and they're always the ones with the car broken, the arm broken, the leg broken, the piano broken (I did that once, bloody soloist)… You get the drift. So I'm sure you can understand it's never a good jolly day whenever I meet my exs.

And right there, in his all tall, dark and handsome glory, there was my ex ex. Not Alex brother, but the one before him. The one I broke up because of his extremely jealous ways. And the same that from time to time sent me creepy emails about how much he loved me and how much he wanted to fuck and all. You get the picture.

Harry looked at me surprised that I interrupted his wallow of self-pity.

"What?" He demanded. I kinda ignored him, peeking through the little-y open door.

"Um… Hi, Harry, didn't know you were in here." I said casually, in a low tone.

Please, make Jared go away…

"Damn hell you didn't." He stated.

"Oh, fuck!" I exclaimed when I saw Jared getting to Mike (they had known each other after we had broke up, and Jared was convinced he was my boyfriend) screaming. It was actually quite scary that the boy was able to reach this close. What if he was a crazy fan? …. And he was, in some way. Except not the boys'.

I turned around abruptly when I realized he was coming this way, thinking in ways to hide myself. I hadn't realized, however, that Harry had stood up and went to me with a worried expression on his face. And I moved so abruptly that I ended up hitting him full force and collapsing to the floor at the same time that the door opened.

As cliché as it may sound…

I ended up on top of Harry, with my legs at each side of his hips. It all happened in less than half a second. I tried to get up before realizing there was no way out, the door finally collapsing with the door, my skirt lifting to my stomach… and my right foot just in between the door and the wall.

There's only one word left to say:

Ouch.

And I said it.

Well… I actually yelled it. High pitched voice, teary eyes, hurt expression, the whole deal.

"You motherfucker!!!" I yelled, clutching Harry's shirt to ease up the pain. It didn't work.

"So you're the one fucking my girl?!" Jared demanded to know. Mike got inside really quickly, probably hearing my yell of pain, and pushed past Jared.

"Are you ok, baby? Did Harry try to rape you?" He asked me. I couldn't talk by the pain.

"She's not your girl, stupid." Harry snorted, with his hands on my waist to sit on the floor. When he saw I winced, he moved the hands to my butt to keep any kind move close to none. "What hurts?"

I ignored his hand on my butt, because, actually, it gave something to think about more than my poor foot. I whined and pointed to my right leg. I don't know how, but Harry moved of his current position without actually moving me, and the hold me up bridal style.

"Look what you did!" He snapped to Jared, who looked kinda pale.

"Pumpkin? Are you alright?" He asked, almost desperately.

"What do you think?" I hissed. "Go away, I don't want to see you."

"But-!"

"You heard the girl, get away!" Mike ordered. Jared looked him over, sizing him, comparing him to himself. It was clearer who would win, so he snorted and mocked him cruelly.

Mike glared at him, and with a swift karate move, took Jared to the floor rather painfully. I couldn't help but smirk at the picture. Mike dragged my ex out of the room, calling security, and disappeared with them. He was such a sucker for uniformed men.

Suddenly, I yelped with pain.

"Why did you do that?!!" I exclaimed, glaring at Harry, who had moved my foot a little too roughly.

"I wanted to see if it was broken, Pumpkin. It's not, so it's probably just a sprain. I'm taking you to the hospital, ok?"

I nodded. "Thanks."

Harry smiled.

"But don't ever call me Pumpkin capitalized or not again." I ordered.

He smiled widely as he took me out of the room and toward the lobby. The boy opening the doors looked surprised, but after a quick order from Harry, he ran to get his car. Less than two minutes later, we were inside the car, driving down the streets of Liverpool toward the closest hospital. I was sitting on the passenger seat, and he had my leg carefully against the car's dashboard.

I looked at him a little surprised of Careful Harry, and noticed he was mightily recognizable. So I grabbed a hat I saw on the floor and put it on his head, and then started to look for a pair of glasses. Or a mask, actually. It would be the Phantom of the Opera taking care of me! That would be really cool.

Harry laughed. "It's ok. I'm going to take you straight with a friend, so there's not much to worry… But thanks. I like having your hands on me without trying to emasculate me." He grinned. I smacked him, of course. "Hey! You're pretty ok for a cripple!"

"I'm not a cripple! I can still kick your butt." I stated, turning around so I wouldn't be facing him. But I still noticed the smirk.

Harry parked the car in the hospital two or so minutes later. "Well… You can walk, right? You said you're not a cripple. I trust you." He said with malicious delight, and got out the car. He started walking away.

Damn me if I was going to ask for his help! I was so not going to! Much less beg. He was out of his mind.

I opened the door, got my right leg down the dashboard, the left out of the car, and I grabbed with all my might the door. Magically I didn't fall, and I was standing next to the car. I grinned appreciably to myself. Good job, girl. Now you only have to…

I spoke too fast.

When I tried to take my second step (the first one I did it jumping a little) I fell flat on my ass with a little cried of pain.

Harry held me up before I could even opened my eyes, that I had closed when I realized what was about to happen. "Stupid girl." He muttered, holding me to his back, giving me a piggy back. Even in my pained expression, I smiled widely. I loved piggy backs! "This way you can't move much." He explained getting inside the hospital and walking to the front desk. "Hi, I'm looking for Ashley Wilkes." He asked. I stared at his neck wide-eyed.

What?

He laughed. The woman behind the counter looked him up and down when he did so. She was the epitome of the kind of nurse you would expect in one of those pamphlets of hospital with the nurse with her finger in front of her hushing lips.

"Doctor Wilkes it's busy, right now. Do you want to- ?"

Harry interrupted her. "Look, I know that's what you have to say when he's shagging the blonde nurse while everyone thinks he's having dinner, so tell him it's an emergency. She has a very painful sprain on her feet…" Harry stopped talking and sighed. "You know what? I'll help myself in, thank you."

The nurse was just as shocked as myself to react, and when she did it, the elevator doors were closing.

"That was fun." Harry grinned like a little child.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Does it really hurt?"

"… fine, don't answer." I accepted.

But he insisted. "Does it really hurt?"

We got out of the elevator on the third floor, and he walked through some corridors until he stopped in front of a white door reading PERSONAL ONLY. He knocked with all his force.

"I'm waiting for you on your office!!" He announced. "Leave Blondie now because I have an emergency here." Harry yelled, and then turned around right to the elevator again, and he pushed the fifth floor button, and then he asked me again. "Cupcake, does it really hurt?"

"Don't call me Cupcake."

"So you're not mute. Does it hurt?"

"Yeah, it damn hurts." I obliged.

"Good. It wasn't so difficult, now, was it?" Harry smirked. I saw it on his reflex. We got out of the elevator when it stopped and he took me to an office near the windows of the other side. He opened the door just like that and got inside. Harry leaved me over the examining couch with care not to make me move my foot. Carefully, he took off my red Converses, and my knee-high socks, slowly, sliding it along with his fingers down my skin.

It gave me shivers and I wanted to have his hands lower and lower… or upper and upper…

Harry stopped with a hand over my knee and the other over the couch once he took off my sock. I didn't know when it happened, but I leaned to him, wanting more of his touch. He grinned.

"See?" He said. "You can be a good doll, Cupcake. When you want to. Guess now I learn how to get to you."

Harry leaned toward me, and pressed his lips to mine in a strong and harsh kiss. I loved it. But didn't show it. Partially because the door opened and a very flustered man entered. He was fixing his clothes and his hair, glaring at Harry.

"So I can't get laid but you do? What's the emergency? Don't tell me it's the same again?"

"No, it's not, Ashley. She sprained her feet." Harry said, pointing to me, and moving over.

The man looked at me. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"No!"

"I want to shag her, but she doesn't let me."

"What a shocker." Ashley Wilkes said with sarcasm. He walked to me. "I'm Doctor Ashley Wilkes. But please, do as everyone else in the world except this asshole, and call me Andrew."

"I knew you weren't an idiotic sissy like the Ashley of the book." I stated happily. Her mom must be a bitch to name her son like that.

"Smart girl. Don't let Juddy here convince you, ok, girl?" Andrew smirked, pointing at Harry as he started examining my foot. It didn't hurt that much, and his cold hands felt good. "What happened? It's a pretty strange strain…"

"Someone opened the door on it."

"Someone?" He wondered, looking at my feet critically, muttering things to himself like calcaneo-fibular ligament, fuck that must hurt! Or… so there's a moderate amount of swelling but none obvious in the inside. This is good. "Was it him? You just tell me and I kick his butt."

"She's more than capable of doing that herself, mind you. And I didn't do anything. Why it's always me, anyway?" Harry demanded, crossing his arms and sitting behind me in the examining couch.

"Because it normally is." Andrew winked at me. "Tell me if it hurts." He asked, moving my foot to point it into an almost full plantar flexion. It hurt more where he was touching than the move. "This is good. None osteo-chondral damage. Which means there's minimal bruising of the inside of the ankle joint. It's not going to take long to heal." He stated. "So… if it wasn't this man, who was?"

I didn't reply. What was I going to say? My psycho ex? An Asshole? A retarded subnormal Australopithecus?

"Her asshole of a psycho ex." Harry said for me.

"Oh?" Andrew looked confused. "And what was he doing there?"

"Haven't the foggiest. But he's crazy." I accepted.

"Ok. Wait here, I'm going to look for a wheelchair. Hold that thought." Andrew disappeared after that, leaving me with Harry.

Oh, god.

"Does he do these things often?" He asked.

"Spraining my ankle? No."

"No, Cupcake. Stalking you, making scenes, attempting to hit your… currents or whatever?"

"… Only if he finds me before Lee gives him a piece of his mind." I gleamed.

Lee was my first boyfriend, the one I learned everything from and with, the one that knew every single spot on my body and the one I shagged every once in a while when there was no one near.

"He usually just tries to talk to me and convince me to get back together."

"Well, he's not going to talk to you anymore." Harry stated, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on my lower back, pressing a little. I liked it, very much. His hands there, I mean.

I closed my eyes and leaned toward him. "Are you going to kill him?"

"Probably. Would you mind?"

"Not particularly… It hurts." I said softly as Harry moved his hand from my lower back to my waist.

"I know, Cupcake. I used to have a lot of this… calca-whatever things on my left ankle."

"I never had a strain. I was a sprain girl. My mother never understood I was as clumsy as a penguin with one foot, and she kept sending me to ballet until I screamed I was going to kill her if she kept sending me there." I laughed at the memory of my eight-years-old self with her little fishnets in pink and a big The Beatles sweater, with a doll in her hands, screaming that.

Harry's hand slid from my waist down my leg, and stopped in my inner thigh. I held my breath, as he drew carelessly patterns there.

"What are you doing?"

"Wandering. It was here that you got sprain a lot?"

I didn't know what he was going to do, so I nodded. "Yeah. All the grand jetés and all that shit."

"It hurt, right? Let me take away the pain." He grinned, moving his fingers expertly around the naked skin of my right leg. It turned me on.

Andrew opened the door but didn't spare a glance at us. "Here." He said, helping me get on the wheelchair. I glared at it, it almost gave me claustrophobia. "I'm going to take you to X-rays." He announced as he started pushing the chair out of the surgery. Andrew guided us to the X-rays place, and, since we were with the doctor, it took less than five minutes to have everything settle, and we were back in the surgery in fifteen minutes.

"Well, there's nothing abnormal here. Here's what you have to do. R.I.C.E."

"Are you talking about Anne? Or… don't tell me you're actually a zombie?!" I exclaimed.

Both boys sighed at the same time.

"Rest, ice, compression and elevation." They said.

"You have to stop activities which cause pain, to avoid the strain to become more serious. The ice's for the swelling. Never for more than 10-15 minutes at a time, every day. Use a layer of fabric or paper in between the ice and the injury to avoid freezing the skin. Wrap the ankle to reduce the swelling, and keep it as close to the level of the heart as you can. I'm going to give you ultrasounds and electrotherapy to help it heal faster, but you're going to be good in a week or two, and perfect in the third. Buy Ibuprofen and have one pill every six hours. Come see me the day after tomorrow, ok? Bring Juddy so they'll let you in." Andrew said. He gave me a glass of water, and a bluish pill and I drunk them. Then, he held out his hand out for me. I smiled and shook it.

"Thank you. And sorry for interrupting." I winked. It didn't hurt that much now.

Harry started pushing the wheelchair down the hallway, but stopped suddenly when we were some feet away of the elevator. I could feel his diabolical grin on my skin. I turned to look at him and interrogate him about our future destination, but I saw him counting in mutterers.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn't quite manage to do it. Because next thing I know, Harry started running straight to the elevator, whose doors were close. Fuck. I closed my eyes, grabbing the wheelchair's armrest with all my might. But he kept grinning like a mad man. It was kinda like the Joker's smile. That one you know it's only on his face because he's a psycho sadist.

I hoped for the best, forcing my life to go trough my eyes. Wasn't that supposed to happen when you were about to die? I tried to remember things of when I was little, or my first kiss, or my first all-night-long, or my first tequila. But I could only think of the stupid asshole behind me, standing in somewhere over the wheelchair. We were going to die together. I was supposed to die in a motorbike crash! Not by some stupid sociopath!

Suddenly, we stopped.

I was dead.

And…

Oh.

I was in heaven…

That was a surprise.

No, really, it was.

I never believe in god and all that jazz, but I was sure that if said place like heaven and hell existed, I would much prefer hell. You know the worst sociopath and genocides were actually Catholics or believe in some other religion. And if god forgives all as they think he does, then they're going to go to heaven after some punishment. Therefore, I would much rather go to hell, with Galileo Galilei, rockstars, Syd Vicious, and all that, than go to heaven, where I could find Hitler having a drink with Mother Theresa.

But now that I actually was in heaven… Hell, I wouldn't change it for nothing. Except maybe for Syd. Or River Phoenix… Maybe he was here somewhere?

Anyway, heaven felt… heavenly.

And in such a weird way it surprised me. It was great in a…. almost sexual way. I thought god was against promiscuity and all that. But there I was, feeling thrills all over my body, goose bumps, shudders, tingly sensations… everything you felt when a Greek god was… kissing you.

If heaven felt like been kiss for the best kisser in the world, I was all for that.

I remembered Harry somewhere around the part where the proverbial kisser bitted my lower lip to part my lips open. Where was he, now? If I had died, and he was still alive, I was so going to go back to haunt him as a ghost. Seriously. This place wouldn't have a curfew, right? So I could take days and nights off haunting him and tormenting him.

But, no, really, where he was?

Because he had to be close.

Because I was smelling him. It couldn't be other smell than his sandal and mint after-shave, cinnamon tasted smell, and something inherently him. It was an intoxicating smell, in a good way. I loved it. Cinnamon is one of my favorite things in the world, like rain drops on roses and all that. And it is an aphrodisiac, too. What was there not to like?

And then… when the floor crashed against something and trembled a little, followed by a loud beep, I thought about opening my eyes.

And I wasn't dead.

At all.

And the proverbial kisser?

Yeah, not that much.

I hadn't realized when, but I had put my hands around his neck, while he had his on my waist, pulling me up a little as he leaned toward me.

Kissing me.

We where still inside the elevator and the doors had just started opening. But I couldn't look anywhere else but him.

"Sorry!" Someone yelped behind us, laughing a little. We turned around to find some teenage boy with an old lady at his side. He was grinning, happy, and she was glaring at us.

"This is no place for that, children! It's disgusting!" She exclaimed, pointing at us a little angry. "Have you thought about how many germens are in there? And I'm just talking about the air, I don't even want to go to the germens the wheelchair could have, and you boy are touching it like it's the end of the world. It's better to get a room, believe me. And you, pretty boy, don't you dare not pay for it! And make it expensive." She declared, turning around with her more than surprised supposedly grandson.

Harry and I stared at her just as shocked.

Until he spoke, with a knowing grin.

"Well… I happened to have a room in an expensive hotel…" He smirked.

As I promised, here you have the second chapter of the day. And it's a bloody long chapter, mind you, so you'll enjoy it until monday XD Or if I feel kind enough -or get many reviews-, maybe tomorrow.

Hopefully, you won´t hate Tallulah and her antics. She's good girl right... somewhere inside her!! I swear XD

Arizona Alexander: Hehehe. Glad you like her, and hopefully you'll still like her now hahaha. Busted! A band that sadly is no more -.- McFly used to open the act for them XD.

Well, Happy Valentine for all of you who like it. And to the ones who don´t.... do as they do in Japan and give chocolate ONLY to friends with a large note explainin about the goods of White Day.

Love!!!

XOXO

Odd