Ghost Writer [Harry Styles][H.S. Fanfic]

19 - SWEET CREATURE

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(SUNNY'S POV)

With sweat coating our tanned skin, the ragged sounds of our heavy panting ripple around us. My soaked hair sticks to my face and neck like glue. We've been at it for nearly an hour, but he keeps pushing me to go harder and faster. I can hardly keep up.

I can't believe we're doing this.

"Oh—Oh God, I—I can't," I gasp between each word.

"Don't stop!" he commands. "Almost there!"

My legs, and lungs, and heart are spent, and they can't take anymore. My body gives out. I drop to my knees and flop down on my stomach, tapping out. With all my strength, I curse his name and push myself over onto my back, my limbs sprawled in odd directions.

What have I done?

Gulping in as much air as I can with little luck, I hug my healing ribcage and whine, "I. Hate. Running."

It only takes Spike a few seconds to realize I'm no longer trailing after him before he turns his head and barks out a guttural laugh. Spinning around, he jogs up to me and holds his hand out for me to take.

"Get that thing out of my face." I smack it away. "We both know it's a trap for you to just keep torturing me. Fuck... what did I ever do to you, huh?"

"No," he grunts, bending down to grab my wrists, and hauls me to my feet. "It's because you're lying in someone else's lawn and we're literally one house away."

My head falls forward, and I groan. As soon as he releases me, I calmly proceed to collapse again on Harry's neighbor's grass. But Spike is much quicker, grabbing me by my ponytail to wind around his fist, and he yanks upwards.

"Ow! Let go, omoomo ule!" I shriek, swatting at Spike's sweaty, tattooed chest.

"Only if you stand up and finish your jog. Because that was not a run, mili' apa. You need to wash your junk before that fancy shmancy meeting." Spike tugs my hair a few more times till I cave, and I straighten my legs.

Little does he know, that's part of the reason I'm stalling. There's a startling amount of clarity when you're running full speed toward something - literally - that you'd rather turn tail on. This was one of those moments.

But I'll never admit it.

"Fine! Fine. And sorry to be such a 'slowpoke,' but I was kinda used as a piñata two-ish weeks ago. Remember that? Sorry, my stamina isn't up to par." I poke his ribs to tickle him until he releases my hair. It only takes one, and I'm a free lady again.

Ha! Bitch!

Spike curses under his breath. "Don't remind me. I'm trying not to go to prison."

"I have my restraining order now, so stop worrying about him and pity me. I don't wanna run anymore." I stomp my foot like a child, crossing my arms. Right when he sticks his 'arguing finger' in the air for a rebuttal, I cut him off. "Spike. I am not above throwing an adult-sized temper tantrum in a bougie neighborhood. Try me."

His hand drops.

Spike puffs out a conceding breath through his lips and nods. We start walking at a leisurely pace towards Harry's, and I loop my arm through his to steady my wobbly legs. I'm dreading the fact that Spike has to leave soon. I don't know how I'm going to handle all of this drama I'm about to get dragged into without his support.

"Sooo, you ever gonna tell me what's goin' on with you and the Brit?" Spike breaks the silence.

I shrug, "Nothing."