Animosity

16

Tate's POV:

There was no way that I just got blue balled by Harry Styles.

There was no way that I had just let myself get blue balled by Harry.

I stood in the middle of the kitchen, in awe, staring at the door that he had slammed shut just moments ago. He had given a smirk before he left, leaving me half naked on the cold tile, flushed and uneasy. It was embarrassing. I let out a long sigh, bringing my hands to my face as I began to think about the rollercoaster that had been the past hour.

1. Thinking about Harry like that is now something that I am accustomed to. 2. Harry has visual confirmation that he has a hold on me. 3. He had just edged me in the middle of my apartment, in the middle of the day, while I have been explicitly denying his advances for weeks.

If I could crawl into a hole, I would.

Instead, I pulled my shirt down over my thighs, rushing to the sliding glass doors to see if he actually had the nerve to leave after what he-what we- had just done. As expected, I spotted a dark head of hair jogging in the opposite direction from my apartment, back turned towards me as he maneuvered around the dinner crowd that was beginning to form at the front steps of the bar.

Fucking prick.

I should call him. No, I should scream at the top of my lungs down the street and demand that he come back here and explain himself. I backed away from the railing at the realization that this would turn the entire neighbourhood's attention on me, the girl with no pants on begging a jogging man to have sex with her. Not exactly the attention I needed from my new neighbours who I had barely spoken to since we moved in.

My eyes followed him as he turned the corner, not looking back as he crossed the busy intersection. I could barely tell from up here, but I am almost certain that there was a wide grin across his face.

I needed a cigarette.

The sun was still high above the building across the street, allowing me a few more hours before Rachel would come home. That was if she was coming home, which if Harry was correct in her plans with Niall, she definitely wasn't. I sighed in defeat, strolling back inside the apartment to get dressed. I needed more than a cigarette, I needed a drink. The bar downstairs was awfully convenient, although the last time I had stepped foot inside it was moments before I had punched Harry in the face. Deservingly, I might add. I was smiling at the thought while tugging on my jeans. That boy very much, at this moment, deserved another punch to the face.

The bar wasn't entirely as busy as I anticipated. The crowd outside had mostly been sitting at the lone booths that I was used to seeing empty. I slid onto a barstool, twiddling with my fingers as I tried to drown the noise of the blasting jukebox.

Harry liked me. To a degree, at least. I had never truly thought about him in this way, but his words keep repeating in my mind.

"Do you know how many times I've thought about you like this?"

It was an honest confession that I knew I wouldn't be able to shake. I was raw and honest with him, regardless if my instincts told me to be otherwise. I began to think about the little moments that he had been there when I needed him the most. He stayed the night at the apartment against his wishes, holding me while I broke down. The potential for him to have ulterior motives for comforting me hadn't crossed my mind. Not until now.

If he truly wanted me that badly, why didn't he stay? He was making this a game. One that I was obviously failing by having the overwhelming urge to call and beg him to come back over. This wasn't like me, it was out of character for me to beg for anything.