Loved You First

I typed the code to open Harry’s gate and walked up the driveway, unsurprised to find the front door unlocked.

I didn’t bother to announce my presence when I hung my coat in the foyer; I knew Harry was gone, off at some meeting with management.

I walked into the living room and found a game of FIFA paused on the flat screen, very familiar feathered reddish brown hair peeking over the back of the couch. I heard banging in the kitchen and a voice with a distinct Irish lilt to it cursing loudly.

“Oi! Don’t break anything, Harry will kill us!” Louis called from the couch. I swatted at the back of his head as I walked past the couch. “Little bird!” he called after me.

“Ariela!” Niall grinned when I entered the kitchen. “Harry’s not home,” he told me.

“I know. Did you break anything?” I sighed, looking at the pile of pots and pans on the floor.

“I don’t think so?” he said, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“What the fuck where you even trying to do?” I asked as I began hanging the pots and pans back on their respective hooks above the island.

“I was looking for the kettle!” He huffed, waving his arms around in exasperation.

“Niall,” I levelled him with a glare. “The kettle is literally sitting on the stove, right there.”

“What would I do without you, Ari?” He beamed, scooping me up in his arms and spinning me around.

“Ni!” I shrieked. “Put me down!”

I was still trapped in Niall’s arms when a third person entered the kitchen.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” A voice that was very much not Louis’ teased. “Harry wouldn’t like this one bit, Niall.”

Niall guffawed and released me. I spun around, coming face to face with none other than Nick Grimshaw.

“Grimmy!” I squealed, throwing myself into his arms.

“Ariela,” he laughed, putting his hands on my shoulders to pull me back and get a better look at me.

“I haven’t seen you in ages. How’ve you been, darling?”

“I’ve been good. How about you? What are you even doing here?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“I’ve been doing well,” he answered. “And I could ask both of you the same thing.”

“Louis and I are playing FIFA and eating Harry’s food,” Niall said, as though it was normal to hang out at your mate’s house when he wasn’t home.

Grimshaw muttered, “I didn’t even see Louis on my way in…”

“Why are you here?” Niall turned to me.

“Fenna needs to borrow one of my dresses for a date. I couldn’t find it in my closet at my flat, which means it’s probably here,” I shrugged. Nick raised one eyebrow at me.

“And why would your dress be here? Is there something we should know?” Grimmy asked and Niall waggled his eyebrows at me.

“Oh, come off it!” I rolled my eyes at them. “You know it’s not like that. I have my own room here, for fucks sake! And you never told us why you’re here,” I pointed out, looking at Nick.

“I’ve come to steal some of our dear Harold’s clothes. The nice ones that he never seems to wear,” he said, moving across the kitchen, in the direction of the stairs.

“Oi!” I called after him. “Take some of his bloody scarves while you’re at it, yeah? I’m tired of seeing them.”

“Sorry, doll. Not a chance,” he laughed, turning to me. “Oh! And before I forget, I’m having a little get-together at my place on New Year’s Eve and I want you to come. And bring your little friends from school. They were a right laugh at your sister’s birthday. Cynthia and Gemma are invited as well, obviously.”

“By ‘little get-together’ you mean like 200 drunk people you barely know, right?” I asked.

He just grinned cheekily at me in response before disappearing into the hallway.

****

After I found the dress Fenna needed, I went to her flat, cajoling her into coming to the shops with me.

Christmas was fast approaching and, like every year, I was freaking out over what to get everyone. But mostly, I was freaking out over what to get Harry and the other lads.

I always found cute clothes or accessories for Gemma and Cynthia. The previous year, I’d given Fenna one of Cynthia’s designer samples that she hadn’t liked, so I figured I would do the same this Christmas. Cynthia and I always pooled our money and ideas for Anne’s present. I didn’t have to worry about anyone in my extended family except for my little cousin Rosalie, because it was her name that I drew for our big Garcia Family Secret Santa.

The five members of One Direction, however, were not so easy to shop for. (Despite us all being good friends, none of their sisters or girlfriends exchanged presents with me; there was some unspoken agreement between us all that it was hard enough having to shop for the lads, having to worry about each other as well might just kill us.)

In theory, I shouldn’t have had to worry about buying something for all five of them, only Harry, but for the last two years, no matter how many times I said not to, all of them bought me something beautiful and horrifyingly expensive. Liam, Zayn, and Louis said I was like another one of their sisters and was going to be treated as such. (That is, I was to be spoiled.) And Niall called me the sister he never had. So, as in most families, my protests were ignored.

So I was stuck trying to buy presents for five billionaire pop stars instead of just one.

“I can’t believe you’re walking around in those heels,” Fenna shuddered, pulling me from my inner turmoil.

I looked down at my boot clad feet and shrugged. “Cynthia trained me well, I guess.”

“So, who are we shopping for and where?” Fenna asked, pulling her hood over her head as we walked.

“Well, I was thinking Top Shop for Gem and Cynthia and then one of the department stores for Rosalie, but,” I sighed, looking around as we crossed a street. “I literally have no fucking idea what to do about the lads.”

“And you’ve got to buy all five of them gifts, yeah?” I nodded at her.

“Well…” She began, stopping outside of a liquor store. “We know they like booze.”

Fenna’s idea, although I was sure it had more to do with the fact that she’d just turned eighteen and wanted to show off, turned out to be pretty damn good. After five years with Harry and three with One Direction, I knew everyone’s alcohol of choice.

After the liquor store, where the girl behind the counter gave Fenna and I extremely judgmental looks as she rang us up, we hit one of the department stores. One of the floors was dedicated solely to toys, so we found two new Barbie’s for Rosalie, along with a remote control Barbie Mustang convertible, also for Rosalie, and the newest version of Call of Duty, for Harry.

We also found some time to pose next to all the One Direction merchandise.

arielagarcia: just can’t get away from these guys @onedirection

@Arielalala: just can’t get away instagram.com/afw320faf

@Harry_Styles: @Arielalala buy one of the cardboard me’s!!

@Arielalala: No, Harry.

@Harry_Styles: Mean. RT “@Arielalala: No, Harry.”

****

My sister dressed me on Christmas Eve, because she didn’t trust me to make myself ‘presentable’ for church.

Most Mexican families are Catholic, like my mom’s family had been, but the Garcia family led a non-denominational Christian church in Holmes Chapel. Abuelo’s eldest son, my uncle, was the pastor and my other relatives made up the supporting roles under him.

Since we weren’t Catholic anymore, rules on dressing for church were a lot more lax than when we were little, but Cynthia always worried about making the right impression. We weren’t living in Holmes Chapel and we didn’t really care what anyone there thought of us, but we knew that how we dressed, acted, and what we said would reflect on Abuela, Abuelo, and the entire Garcia family.

Cynthia had me wear a black romper that had a lace overlay on the shorts and the collar. It only came to mid –thigh, but paired with my wool tights, it looked classy. She handed me a black military pea coat I hadn’t seen before and I gasped when I read the label.

“Where in the fuck did you get an Yves Saint Laurent coat?” I stared at her, wide-eyed.

She shrugged. “They sent some stuff to me. They want me to model for them.”

“And the reason you’re not freaking out over this is….?” I trailed off, slipping my arms into the coat.

“I don’t know if I’m gonna do it,” she said simply, reaching into my bag and pulling out my red leather gloves. “Put these on. Have you got black shoes?”

“The Jimmy Choo’s are by the door,” I told her and she scurried out of the room, returning with them in her hands.

“Where’d these come from? They aren’t any that they’ve sent to me,” she helped me into the heeled black ankle boots, then stood back to admire her work.

“Louis,” I answered. “Last Christmas, I think. Or maybe my last birthday. Dunno. How come you’re not sure about Saint Laurent?” She ignored my question, tapping her chin as she eyed me.

“You’re missing something…Oh!” She reached into her purse and pulled out a lipstick the exact shade of my gloves. I pouted and she swiped it across my lips, grinning at me when she was done. “There! You’re perfect.”

She stepped back and allowed me to examine myself in the mirror. I had to admit, she was good. The color in my lips and my gloves stood out against my otherwise black ensemble and I looked classy but still sexy.

I turned to her, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Nallely,” I said, my accent becoming pronounced as I addressed her by her middle name. “Why won’t you do Saint Laurent?”

She sighed, still avoiding my eyes. “It’s just…They’re based in Paris. It’s easy with Jimmy Choo, and a lot of the others, because they’re all here, and I don’t have to travel often. But…I mean…If I did Saint Laurent, I just…I wouldn’t want to have to leave you here for long periods of time and I couldn’t take you with me because you have school.”

“Cynth,” I sighed, guilt washing over me. Cynthia travelled a little for work, only a weekend or so at a time, sometimes taking me with her, sometimes leaving Gemma to stay with me at the flat. The longest she was ever gone was New York Fashion Week, and she took me with her for that. London was one of the biggest fashion capitals in the world, so she did pretty well by staying right at home, but I knew that she could be doing more and making more money if she travelled as much as her colleagues.

I’d always known that my sister had been missing opportunities because of me, but hearing it spelled out for me like that left a sinking feeling in my gut.

“Don’t-you can’t-I’m not,” I stuttered. “I’m not a baby anymore. I don’t want you to throw away career opportunities for me.”

“Don’t do that,” she said sternly, finally looking me in the eyes. “This is my career and my choice. I want to be here. With you.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts,” she wagged her finger at me. “I’m a grown ass woman and I make my own choices. I don’t need you feeling guilty about them.”

****

We went to church with our family, sitting with Abuelo and Abuela on the left of Cynthia, Cynthia on my left and little Rosalie on my right, next to the aisle. Rosalie’s mom sat in the row behind us with even more members of our extended family. Harry’s family was sat in the row in front of us, Robin, Anne, Harry, and Gemma near the aisle.

The four year old was whispering madly in my ear. “Dios mio, Tia Ari! Harry Styles is right in front of us!”

When he turned around to greet me after the service, she looked at me with wide eyes, whispering her amazement to me in Spanish while he shook hands with my grandparents, wishing them a happy Christmas and promising to have Cynthia and me home before midnight. The rest of Harry’s family greeted them much like he had, while Harry walked over to pull me into his chest.

“You look stunning,” he murmured into my hair and I blushed, smiling at him.

Rosalie tugged on my hand. “Harry Styles es tu novio?” She hissed.

“No! Yo no tengo uno novio!” I assured her, shooting Harry a sheepish grin. He was watching our exchange with mild amusement. His Spanish was shit, but he’d picked up enough from me over the last six years that he could understand the basics, like novio.

Harry knelt in front of my cousin. “What’s your name, sweetie?” He asked, holding out his hand. She just stared at him like a deer caught in headlights.

Her mother walked up before Rosalie could answer, hissing: “Ven aca, mija!” Rosalie scurried after her mother, giving Harry a small wave.

Cynthia and Gemma walked up then, handing Harry and I our coats.

“Ready to go?” Cynthia asked as I slipped my gloves back on. I nodded at her and we all trudged out into the snow. Harry kept a hand on the small of my back and helped me into his car.

Every Christmas eve after church, Cynthia and I had dinner at Anne’s house and exchanged gifts with Harry, Gemma, Anne and Robin; and then Cynthia and I would return to our grandparents’ house to meet up with the rest of the family to exchange gifts at midnight.

And every year on Christmas Eve, Gemma and Cynthia tried to get Harry and me to kiss under mistletoe.

So nobody was surprised when Gemma threw everyone’s coats at us, shoving us into the entry way closet to hang them, and then blocking our way with her arm when we tried to walk out.

“Mistletoe,” Cynthia smirked at us and pointed at the plant hanging on the doorway of the closet.

Gemma was raising her perfectly manicured eyebrows at us and grinning smugly.

“Fucking hell,” Harry sighed.

“Harry, language!” Anne reprimanded as she walked past us into the house, Robin trailing behind her and shrugging at us as if to say, We can’t help you.

I blew out a long breath. “Really, guys? How many years are we gonna have to do this?”

“Every year until you actually kiss,” my sister answered easily.

“If you kiss, we’ll never do it again,” Gemma promised.

Harry dragged a hand over his face in exasperation, then he turned to me. I raised my eyebrows in a silent question and he shrugged in response. He put his hands on my waist and looked at me with wide eyes. I took a deep breath and nodded at him.

He leaned down and I stood on my toes to meet him halfway. He pressed his lips to mine and my hands rested on his shoulders. Our lips slotted against each other, and he bit my bottom lip lightly before he pulled away.

“Happy now?” He snarled at Gemma, his voice flat. I saw the blush creep up his neck and over his ears and cheeks. I could feel the heat in my own face and took a deep breath to try to dispel it.

“Very happy,” Gemma beamed, grabbing Cynthia’s arm and all but skipping into the dining room.

“Alright, Ela?” Harry asked when she was gone. I looked up at him, taking in the flecks of gold and in his familiar green eyes.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He nodded and swallowed, looking at his feet. “Yeah, okay.”

Harry walked into the dining room and I followed him slowly, fighting the urge to press my fingers to my lips where he’d touched me.

“Are you okay?” Cynthia whispered to me as we sat at the table to eat. I nodded, plastering a smile on even though I was most definitely not okay.

I was so far from okay it wasn’t even funny.

Because that mistletoe kiss had put things into perspective for me.

I was falling head over heels for my best friend.

Fuck.