Liberosis

Chapter 32

The italics show a flashback to an hour before. You'll know what I mean when you get to that point.

Songs to listen to while reading:

Memories – David Guetta, Kid Cudi (I'll let you know when to play it)

"So, who is coming over tonight?" I ask Harry, unpacking one of the shopping bags.

Harry is having a party tonight at his house, he said he was in the mood for getting drunk apparently. That is clear with the bag full of bottles of alcohol that Harry asked Angela to get.

"Niall, Cara, Zendaya, Hailee and Louis." Harry replies. He is standing with his ankles crossed and his back leaning against the kitchen counter. He's just watching me unpack the groceries, how helpful of him.

"No Margot?" I question, I don't really want her here but I know how Louis feels about her and I want him to be happy.

"No, I called Louis earlier to ask him if they both wanted to come. He asked Margot while he was still on the phone and she said something about wanting to watch Netflix, so he is coming by himself." Harry answers. I glance at him; I can't help but notice the way he is scanning my body slowly from head to toe.

"I wish Louis would just see how much of a bitch she is." I rant while sorting the groceries into piles. Food that needs to go into the fridge, cupboard food and alcohol. I think the biggest pile is the alcohol which is slightly concerning.

Harry stands straight and starts stalking towards me, "You know, you could actually help me put this shit away." I state, ignoring how he is standing behind me now.

"Or, we could both do something else..." He suggests, moving my hair over my shoulder before pressing his lips gently to my neck, putting his hands on my ribs.

"Harry! No—" I turn around and hold my hands on his shoulder to keep him at a distance. "Angela is still here! I'm still embarrassed from what happened earlier, poor woman deserves a raise after that!" I whisper-shout at Harry, trying to scold him but he only smirks at me.

I am sitting on the couch downstairs with my legs crossed underneath me, a mug of warm green tea resting in my lap and a book in my other hand. I'm reading the first Hunger Games book, it's already better than the movie.

I hear Harry's footsteps trailing down the stairs, "Hey baby."

I rest the book over my mouth, hiding my blushing cheeks. I don't think I'll ever get used to that. "Hi Harold." I reply.

Harry now stands in front of me, a pout on his face. "I want a better nickname."

I move the book away from my face, resting it open on my thigh so I don't lose my place. "I don't know, Harold seems fitting to me." I joke.

Harry leans so his face is inches away from my ear, "I bet I could get you to call me other names." He whispers seductively.

I ignore the way I want to clench my thighs together, "Oh, like Grandpa?" I reply jokingly, trying to wind him up.

He takes the mug of green tea and my book, placing them on the coffee table. "Not exactly what I was thinking." He teases. He pushes me so I am now laying on my back as he climbs over me, my legs wrapped around his waist. I don't know how he is so smooth with everything; I'm not complaining though.

It's been very difficult keeping our hands off of each other the past couple of days. Always touching in some sort of way, whether Harry has his hand on my thigh while we eat or constantly cuddling when we are in bed.