The Me You Can't See (H.S)

16

TW: Panic Attack

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry's POV:

"Wait, Sunny. . .you forgot your bag." I yell out as I watch her all but run from my car. Did I do something wrong?

Sitting in my car I wonder whether or not I should go up and give it to her or just let her be. She didn't do anything unusual or anything but the way she bolted from my car after we fucking made out not 30 minutes ago is bothering me.

God, I can still feel her lips against mine. The same lips I've caught myself staring at from afar. They were something else. It was as if they were made for mine, and that kiss. It gave me a hard-on right then and there, one I have yet to deal with.

She is perfect, the smoothness of her skin, the curve of her body, the shape of her lips, everything about her makes me want to drop to my knees and worship her until she has to drag me back onto my feet.

It's fucking with my head, she's fucking with my head. And when she tightened her legs around my body. . .fuck me.

I can't seem to get the taste of her out of my mind. She tasted like cherries as if she'd been sucking on a piece of candy.

When she barged into my office earlier I didn't expect her to be so mad and frankly, it made me boil over at her constant need to do things herself. Even when I picked her up that night, she was grateful and I knew that but I know there was still a part of her that wished she didn't need someone to come and save her. That she could have dealt with it on her own.

I can't imagine what she would have felt but of course, I don't have a fucking brain and I had to open my mouth and say something. Who the fuck would say what I did. The minute it left my mouth I wished I could have taken it back.

Fuck it. . . whatever. I grab her bag, slinging it over my shoulder deciding to just give her the bag. What the fuck does she carry in here, this shit ways more than Maya.

As I walk up the familiar stairs to her apartment I start to become a little nervous. I don't truly care but a small part of me hopes that she doesn't regret what happened between us because I would sell myself to the devil to feel her again. From the night at the cliff to the kiss in my office, she's captivated me.

I guess my wish came true. . . didn't it?

Not only her body but her mind. Her strong personality and the way she doesn't wait to put me in my place.

There's something about her.

I wish I knew the true her before everything.

I reach her floor and I walk down to the end of the hallway, only to find her door slightly ajar, the key still in her lock.

She'd left in a panic and mixed with the scene in front of me it's freaking me out a little.

I pull out the gun tucked in the waistband of my black jeans, holding it up as I push her door open cautiously with the toe of my converse.

I turn the corner hearing deep panicked breaths and I'm ready to shoot whoever is in her apartment, but I'm taken aback when I see her on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest.

I quickly survey the surrounding area of her small apartment. My eyes shoot to her bathroom, her balcony, her bed, but nothing.

Shoving the gun back into my waistband I run to her, pulling her to lay on her back.

Her eyes stare wide-eyed at me, and her breath continues to huff and puff, aching for the oxygen she is clearly not getting.

I put my hands in her hair, wiping under her eyes to wipe away the tears streaming down the side of her face. Until now I didn't think she could cry.