in which joelle d'amore is completing her final semester of university in the grand city of los angeles, california. when she finds herself in the presence of harry styles, a piercing man with dangerous agendas, she is permeated with fear. she saw s...
CONTENT WARNING: talk of religion andbelief from an unbiased perspective.
Chapter 36
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I wanted to apologize to Sutton and Zayn for ruining their night. Sutton more than anyone—for swatting her hands away and for scaring her over a hallucination I experienced. I didn't get to, however. Not when Harry rushed to take me back to our hotel room.
I shared my concern to Harry over not wanting to abandon them, but he told me it was fine and that he'd text Zayn. I worried less, but I made it a plan to apologize to them first thing in the morning.
It isn't the first time my panic attacks had ruined somebody else's night. I find it embarrassing despite how unpredictable they can be.
I've wiped off my makeup, have washed my face clean, and have completed the rest of my nightly routine. Letting out a shaky sigh in front of the bathroom mirror, I look at myself. I rub at my swollen eyelid and I close them just for a second.
It felt so real.
I open my eyes again and take a step back when the thought rushes back. I start to walk out of the bathroom, warmth settling over my cheeks and prickles down my back.
Harry's sitting on the side of the bed he's claimed. His bare feet touch the ground as he looks down at his phone. He's without a shirt and ready for bed. The lights given off by the fountains of Bellagio and the rest of the city peer from the glass balcony door. It's the only thing, besides the light from the bathroom, that keeps the darkroom lit. He sets his phone aside when he looks up to see me.
I start walking towards the bed in my pajama set for the night. I'm tired, but I don't want to go to sleep. I watch Harry turn with the orange glow over his skin when he lifts his legs and the sheets. He then pats the space beside him.
I move quickly in my steps then crawl on top when I reach the bed. I find it surprising to see one arm extended. He's silent as he lies comfortably. I don't want to make any sudden movements, afraid of the possibility that he will change his mind in inviting me into his arms. "Are you sleepy?" I ask Harry in a whisper, getting under the shared sheets. After pulling my hair to one side, I let myself lie back and get comfortable into the side of his body.
"No, you?"
"No," I retort, shyly setting my hand above his chest. When I look up at his clean, free of makeup, face, he's frowning again. "I might just stay awake all night."
"Then might as well tell me everything."
My eyes drift from his eye contact to land above his chest where my fingers stiffly mark their place. I almost want to say, you first, but maybe I do owe him an explanation about being followed and not telling him. I swallow, absentmindedly running fingers towards the butterfly—the one large tattoo amidst the beautiful chaos of his other tattoos. I then sigh. "Okay," I whisper, sitting up enough to hover over him. "But first... can I-" I look at him. My finger traces up towards his mouth when I crave another distraction. I might be stalling or I might be addicted. My finger drags along his bottom lip; I lean in to kiss him shortly after.
