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Chapter 37

If you're looking for truth
Don't come looking for me.
You're better off not knowing.

— Echosmith, Safest Place

. . . .

By the time Harry and I get out of bed in the morning, I'm sore, and he's proud of himself. I'm practically waddling to the bathroom to prevent adding onto the burning flesh at the apex of my thighs from the pain he caused.

I take my time to freshen up and gently take my hair out of its updo so the curls can fall down my back. I wipe off the little bit of eyeshadow and mascara leftover on my face, then tread into his bedroom to look for my phone, but it's missing. I couldn't have possibly left it at the school or in Harris' car because I checked the time before I went to bed last night. So, I head out to the kitchen to see Lilly seated on the countertop with Harry beside her. All I can see is his broad, muscular, back on full display to my horny eyes.

"Have you seen my phone?" I question as I walk into the living room.

"Uh...nope," he answers unsurely, but I know he's lying.

I'm about to ask Lilly, but all my questions are answered when she giggles down at her lap. No wonder neither of them are looking at me; their eyes are trained on something between them. And I already know what it is—my phone.

"What are you two doing?" I look around Harry's hunched over body to see my phone in his hands, the camera app is displayed on the bright screen. Lilly's pulling apart her cheeks and sticking out her tongue while Harry presses the circular button like his life depends on it.

"Give it back!"

I reach my hand out to snatch it from him before he can take any more pictures, but he jumps down from the counter and sprints away from me.

His wild laughter bursts throughout the house as he takes pictures of his distorted face while bouncing up and down, switching from one foot to another to escape my attempts of grabbing it.

"Harry...I'm too sore to chase you," I whine, my hands on my hips as I calm my breathing.

"Why are you sore?" Lilly looks up at me with her familiar eyes, and I immediately wish I could go back in time to rethink my words.

What I say next isn't exactly any better either. "Your dad went a little too fast this morning, and I couldn't keep up."

Damn it.

Harry looks over at me with a stupid, smug grin on his face.

"Did he steal your phone this morning, too?"

She's so innocent, and I'm so happy she doesn't know about the human reproductive cycle yet. Also, I'm glad I didn't spoil that pure mind of hers.

"Something like that." I grin down at her uncomfortably, then whip around to grab my phone, but Harry's immature side kicks in, and he zooms off in the other direction.

By the time I give up on chasing him, my legs are even more sore than they were when I got out of bed and my breathing is once again irregular. Harry eventually trips on the rug in front of the couch, sending my phone to tumble a bit in front of him. I manage to grab the device to see if it has any scratches, but it's fine, and once I see Harry start to get to his feet, I drop it into my underwear. Not the best idea, but at least he'll have to put up a bit of a fight to get it back.

"You know I'll go in there." He holds onto the underside of his back while he limps over to me. "Damn it. I really hurt my back."

"I really don't feel any pity for you. I'm sure you took several hundred pictures already."