favorite crime [h.s]

fifty four

Harry

Ali looks like an angel when she sleeps. She hasn't woken up since she fell asleep in the car, and I even managed to carry her from the car into her apartment. I can't bring my eyes to look anywhere else but her golden hair as it's spread out across the cushions while she's laying on the bed. The dainty dress she's wearing compliments her body perfectly and I'm glad I had the guts to fucking tell her.

All the lights are turned off except for the one little lamp on her beside table.

Kneeling on the bed, I place her foot on my thigh and carefully hook the strap through the silver clasp around her ankle. The shoe loosens from her feet and I gently remove it, before doing the same with the other one.

I look through her wardrobe to find her something to wear and come across my own clothes. A weird knot forms in my chest at the thought that she keeps my clothes.

I straddle her hips when my hands sneak behind her back to unzip the material. I gently guide the straps down her arms, bringing the fabric down to her hips. The dress slides down her legs before I enrobe her with my sweatpants and a shirt.

I fucking crave her warmth. Ever since she showed me comfort, I don't want to let go of that feeling. I've never been hugged the way she hugs me, so caringly and softly. I admire the way she touches me so delicately as if I were a precious diamond and had so much value. She takes care of me when she knows I'm not capable of doing it myself. She does so much for me.

Lying in her bed, I carefully pull her body onto my chest to feel her heartbeat against mine. I softly scratch her back beneath the shirt, wondering if she can even feel it in her sleep. She stirs slowly and snuggles her face into my chest while I hold her more tightly. Little tired whines flee her parted lips which are slightly puckered and her hair is hanging in her face.

I smile to myself when I close my eyes and embrace her warmly in a hug. A flutter erupts in my stomach, causing me to sigh. I don't ever get fucking butterflies, what is she doing to me?

***

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, causing me to groan quietly and squirm beneath the bedsheets. Ali is sprawled out beside me, using my arm as a pillow with her ass up against my thigh, safe and sound asleep. I carefully reach over her body to grab my phone before I lay back down. It's six AM, fuck me.

June: open the door, we need to talk

I close my eyes in discomfort because there's no time where I'd ever want to talk to her. What the fuck does she want. It better be important if she needs to wake me up at six in the morning.

I sneak out of bed, careful not to wake her up as the bed squeaks beneath me. Without a second glance at her, I hurry out of the room before I can change my mind and cuddle with her again.

My hand tugs on my hair as I drive back to my place. I have a weird feeling about all of this. June and I never talk, not since we've stopped hooking up. I wouldn't have a fucking clue why she wants to talk to me, can't she tell Niall or something? Or at least Ali, aren't they friends?

I slam the door to my McLaren and proceed to take the elevator up to my apartment.

There she is, pacing back and forth in front of my door. She seems anxious. I approach her and eventually clear my throat to get her attention. Her head snaps up and her eyes widen, but I can't if she's nervous or angry with me.

"What the fuck took you so long?" she snaps, crossing her arms as I reach my front door.

"Hey, watch your fucking tone," I scold her, my eyes drop into a glare. I open the door and she walks in behind me. "I was at Ali's if that's what you're curious about."