R O L L I N G R E D •H.S•

❦64 • s u n n y

• M O L L Y •
//T R I G G E R   W A R N I N G:
S E X U A L   A C T S\\

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I'm so nervous, I feel like I could throw up.

Actually, I have been throwing up. All week. Kelly booked us a flight to go back to L.A, hang around for a bit. Since the boys rescheduled their last couple of shows—again...they have sometime to kill.

Harry told me that he called one of the best OB's in L.A, and booked me an appointment. I was really excited. That was until all of my overthinking caught up to me and I started thinking about things I shouldn't be.

What if the test was wrong?

Why haven't I been extra hungry?

What if me throwing up every day has been from my nerves?

There so many possibilities that can come out of this appointment.

Though, if it was just a miss-read test, there are a few good factors in that. We still need to find a stable place, we need to talk about duties: who's staying home? Who's working? Most likely Harry.

Harry. Oh my gosh, this is the first time I have written anything down without it being dedicated to Harry. I just felt a lot of stress and starting writing. Wow, I'm proud of myself.

"Ready to go? I'll get you something to eat on the way there."

I look up to see Harry standing in front of me, dressed in a pair of running shorts and a white hoodie with an H on it. I smile and close the journal before setting it down on the bed in our hotel room.

"Ready." I stand up and pull my sweater—more like Harry's oversized hoodie—and pull it over my head before we make our way over towards the door. "I'm not that hungry though, a bit nervous."

"You know," he eyes me up and down slowly before looking ahead of him again, "people might think we're a bit weird for wearing hoodies while also wearing shorts."

A small breathless laugh falls through my lips and it feels good to be able to find something so silly so funny in a moment like this. Harry always seems to make me feel that way. One thing goes bad and he's there to make it all better.

"Maybe," I shrug, "but, who are they to judge? Plus, they don't know that I'm wearing these athletic shorts because everything feels painful to wear. Everything I have is tight and presses agaisnt-"

"Ah," he taunts, "so I fucked you good, is that what you're saying?" An evil smirk crawls over his lips, making me clear my throat before looking ahead in front of us.

Before we reach the car that Kelly sent for us to use while we are in L.A, I say, "Yes, and if you keep looking at me like you're starving, I might let you kill what's left her."

He grabs the door handle to open the door for me, but pauses halfway and asks, "Her?"

I smile at him before sliding into the car and buckling my seat belt. I look at him since he hasn't shut the door yet and say, "Yeah, her. My vagina."

A loud laugh escapes him, making the sound echo off of the walls inside this half empty parking garage. My smile falls as he continues to struggle to breathe through his laughing fit.