I'm In Love With The Brown Haired Boy//L.S//

Chapter Four

"Shit, shit, shit, my mom's gonna kill me," I say, pacing around Harry's room.

"It's not that big of a deal," he says, taking a seat on his bed.

"She's gonna smell the weed on me and she'll flip the fuck out. I don't know what to do. She'll beat my ass if she finds out I've been smoking weed," I say, starting to panic.

"It's not that bad. Trust me, you'll be fine."

"Yes, it is. Smell my shirt," I say, grabbing a piece of my shirt and pulling at it. He gets up off his bed and walks over to me, sniffing the part of the shirt that I'm holding out.

"Shit, yeah, that's pretty noticeable," he says with a slight laugh, pulling his head away from my shirt.

"You think? Your whole room smells like weed, and we didn't even smoke in here. Oh shit, your parents. What if they smell it?"

"Oh, don't worry about them. They don't care about what I do as long as I don't end up in jail, burn the house down, or get myself killed."

"Oh," I say, slightly confused.

"How about this: you take a shower and borrow some of my clothes. I'll wash yours and give them back to you since you're so paranoid."

"That would be amazing, thank you. But where's the bathroom?" He goes to a door on the left side of his room and opens it. Of course, he has a whole fucking bathroom connected to his room. It's not a basic bathroom either—it's huge and has a walk-in shower that takes up a quarter of the bathroom, which is covered with black tile. The two sinks are big and a dark brown marble color. The counter is covered with a bunch of colognes and hair products. The toilet is in a separate little area that has a door to close it off from the main part.

I go into the bathroom and check it out. Harry comes in with some clothes and sets them down on the counter. He walks over to the shower, showing me how to work the dial. He leaves, so I take my clothes off and get into the shower. It's so nice and relaxing.

I stand under the water, letting the hot droplets hit my body and fall to the shower floor. I watch as the water swirls down the drain. I'm still a bit high, so I just sit on the little seat area in the shower and stare at the wall for a bit.

I finish up in the shower and dry myself off with a clean white towel. I put on the clothes Harry gave me, which are a black shirt with the Nike logo on it and some gray sweatpants. They are kind of big on me, but I don't care because they're comfortable and don't reek of weed.

I go back into Harry's room to see him sitting on his floor, plucking at his guitar. He looks so hot with his hair all in his face and his guitar pick hanging in his mouth. I hear him singing a couple of lyrics, which catches me off guard.

"You sound good," I say, walking back into his room.

"Oh, uh, thanks," he says, looking up at me. We make eye contact, and it makes my heart stop for a second. He runs his hand through his hair, moving the curls out of his face. "I don't like to sing in front of people, so if I knew you were standing there, I wouldn't have," he says, seeming a bit embarrassed.

"Thanks again, by the way, for the clothes and for letting me use your shower. I know you didn't have to, so it was really nice of you."

"No problem. It looks a little big on you, though." He looks me up and down for a split second before looking back down at his guitar.

"It is," I say, taking a seat on his bed. I pull out my phone to check the time. "It's getting late. I think I should head out," I say, seeing as the time is a little past nine o'clock. I get back off his bed and begin to gather all my things.