Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
A MOMENT OF STUNNED SILENCE passed between them, both wide-eyed and open-mouthed as they let the realization of what was happening sink in. Shock didn't even cover how they felt. He could barely feel the weight of her body, but she'd somehow managed to knock both of them down. In a flash, Stella started to move away, muttering profanities he couldn't understand in French.
"What theㅡ! IㅡwhaㅡJesus Christ!" She scrambled away, squeezing her eyes shut before blindly reaching for anything that could cover her bare body. The Styles was feeling stressed himself, nearly tripping over his own feet as he felt around for a towel, luckily snagging one off the nearby rack.
"Merdé, why are you naked?! Jesus, don't look! Look away!Putain de merdeㅡ!" (Fuck, Fucking hell.)
Stella desperately reached for the shower curtains, seeing as it was the closest thing to her. The brunette tucked the flimsy fabric, which was still being held up by the curtain rod, under both of her armpits. She looked slightly frazzled, heavily panting after the sudden movements.
"Whaㅡwhat do you mean 'why am I naked?'" Harry blinked incredulously, holding the towel at his waist with one hand, while he ran the other through his hair. His movements were calm, but his gaze, his eyesㅡthey were crazed. His palms were sweaty, and his hands were shaking. He could've went skydiving with all the adrenaline running through his veins. It was a challenge to forget the feeling of her body pressed against his, skin on skin. She smelled like a blend between lavender and sandalwood, the scent that Stella seemed to carry everywhere she went. "Why are you wet?"
Stella froze at his question, still gripping at the shower curtains. Somehow, Harry's earphones had been removed from his phone, and Queen's Crazy Little Thing Called Love was now playing softly in the tense atmosphere. Freddie Mercury was probably grinning somewhere as the next line echoed in the silence, "Are you ready? Ready, Freddie."
The Blake couldn't take it anymore, and she burst out laughing. Harry blinked, face reddening as he realized the other meaning behind his question. "I didn'tㅡ" he stumbled over his words, panicking, "That's not whaㅡIㅡit's not like thatㅡ"
"Ree!" Stella laughed harder, leaning against the tiled wall to support herself. Her hair was so dark against her milky skin, a few strands spilling over her prominent collarbones. Releasing a shaky breath, Harry found himself slightly at ease, chuckling at the humor of what happened, regardless of how hot his cheeks felt like. Honestly, he still hasn't processed everything about the encounter. It's probably the most bizarre morning of his entire life.
"C'est tellement embarrassant," (This is so embarrassing,) the brunette mumbled, palming her forehead. Her chocolate locks barely covered her cheeks, which were in the same shade as his, and he found himself marveling at the sight of it. She rarely blushed, and even when she did, he'd never been one to witness it firsthand. Yet here she was, crimson-faced because of him. Well, anyone would probably be blushing in their situation, but Harry wanted to believe the fantasy that he had such an effect on her.
