Sunshine | H. S.

16

After tossing and turning for a while last night I finally managed to fall asleep and despite still being exhausted from the past few days I woke up ridiculously early without an alarm. I check my phone. 7 am.

Great.

Harry texted me last night after the call and told me he'd be here around lunchtime, so now I have to kill time while trying not to let my anxiety about seeing him consume me. Nat stayed with Lucas last night despite being worried about me, but I convinced her that just because I'm in pain doesn't mean she can't go get laid. Letting her know that Harry would spend the day with me today finally persuaded her to stay at Lucas's place, not before giving me a speech about how I can't be a 'stone-cold bitch' to him because he's clearly worried and telling me to behave myself with an all-telling smirk on her face.

Like she's one to talk. When Lucas stays here I either have to watch tv with maximum volume or blast hard rock through my speakers so I don't hear them through the walls. So I don't feel guilty about enjoying consistent and mind-blowing sex after a seemingly endless string of one-night stands, even if Natalia is going to get an earful sooner or later.

Karma is a bitch after all.

I decide that laying in bed isn't going to make time go by faster so I get up and shower. I let the hot water run over my body, creating small trickles of liquid on my skin and relaxing my muscles. The remaining sleep slowly vanishes and I feel my body unwind. Whoever prefers cold showers is terribly wrong and I want to have a serious talk with them.

After getting out of the shower I dry my hair while wrapped in a fuzzy towel and then I get dressed. Trying to impress someone with how you look is new and strange for me. Not that I want to look good for Harry, I just feel like making an effort with my appearance whenever I know that I'm going to see him. Maybe because he always looks so effortlessly breathtaking and I feel like a moldy potato next to him.

I am a confident person but Harry, specifically his appearance is intimidating somehow. And unfair. Ripped jeans and a shirt shouldn't look as good as they do on him. I've seen him right after waking up or when he's tired and he still looks like a literal angel.

It's not even about trying to look pretty for him, it's about feeling good about myself so I'm confident enough not to melt into an insecure, anxious puddle the minute his eyes are on me.

Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm not used to the kind of attention Harry gives me. Sure, the people I've hooked up with have complimented me but it's always about my body. Harry goes and says shit like you look pretty or you're beautiful and I don't know how to react to that. Knowing that he looks at me, really looks at me, and pays attention to my appearance, my facial expressions, and the small changes in my mood that he somehow always manages to read on my face is scary. I have trouble hiding my emotions from him. Not that I truly want to, it's just an unconscious decision I make almost every time I talk to someone.

But Harry manages to see things I didn't even know I was showing him. I hate being an open book to him, I hate being vulnerable. But it doesn't feel like I have a choice when it comes to him. He always figures out what I think and feel anyway, and if not he somehow coaxes it out of me.

Fuckboy wizardry.

After a few minutes of trying to balance comfort and appearance, I throw on a loose pair of jeans and a white turtleneck with a big, colorful cardigan over it.

Face cream, brows, and mascara and I'm ready to spend the next few hours anxiously waiting for Harry but kicking myself at the same time for letting myself be nervous about a boy. This boy in particular. I hate giving a shit. I hate this tingle on my skin, the butterflies in my tummy. Feelings, ew. And how Harry manages to make cheesy things like coming to see me when I'm sick or cooking for me seem sweet and normal irritates me even more.