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...
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For the first time in so long, I slept amazingly well. So amazing, I don't remember the moment I drifted off to sleep. All I remember last was resting my cheek above Harry's chest. It's how I woke up.
I haven't moved from my hold on him. With a hand around his torso and a leg intertwined with his own, we lie under the sheets in a room without Zayn and Sutton. They must've slipped out sometime in the night or early in the morning.
At least it spares an awkward conversation.
Remembering what we did last night, I tilt my head up towards Harry. I watch him breathe in deep before waking from his slumber.
So close, I take in every detail of his face that I can. From the stubble on his chin to his pores and beauty mark near the corner of his mouth, I memorize it before I watch his eyes flutter open. He breathes out, looking around before then looking at me.
The frown on his face is what makes me lift my head off his shoulder when I assume space is what he wants. Though he stops me from going anywhere. With a hand on my cheek, he silently brings my head back down onto his arm. He then shifts to face his naked body towards me.
Quietly, I bring my forehead to touch his and we stay like that. He doesn't budge from the sudden invasion and neither do I. A small smile lifts on my face when Harry's thumb begins to caress my cheek. I hum when it then ends up stroking my bottom lip.
I pull my head back and sit up because I'm not going to kiss him. One, we haven't brushed our teeth; and two, I'm still kind of pissed off at him—I remember. I scoot towards the edge of the bed and I stand up when my feet touch the floor. I have to cover my breasts as I wear only my underwear. I can feel Harry staring at me. Green irises burn like cigarettes being put out on my skin as I bend down for my romper on the floor. With my back turned to him, I pull it on after stepping into it.
I head straight for the bathroom to start my daily morning routine.
Halfway into washing my face after brushing my teeth, I hear his footsteps as he comes in through the open door. I bend down to rinse my face clean with tepid water before drying off.
I hold onto the towel and I gently dab at my face and I see him through the mirror coming up behind me. He takes over the sink, wetting his toothbrush as I step aside.
We have to talk at some point.
"Morning," I finally greet.
Though, instead of responding, he brings his minty toothpaste-covered brush into his mouth. He looks at himself in the mirror rather than me.
When I huff, his eyes land on my reflection.
I'm unsure how to go about things at this moment. I'd rather not speak if it means we'll head into another brawl, but I can't leave things left unsaid. I watch him spit into the sink before I say, "You left."
