Girl Crush ☞ h.s.

[twelve]

Harry.

"Ashton, what are you doing?" He asks softly. He lays the roses down on the coffee table a few inches across from her. She looks up at him, smiling lazily. He gently takes the bottle from her hand, sniffing just above the rim.

"God, you're so beautiful," she whispers. She continues staring at him blankly while he sighs.

"Ashton, we both know you shouldn't be drinking. Care to tell me why you're doing such a thing?" He asks. she raises her eyebrows, raising a finger lazily. "Last time I checked, you didn't drink-"

"Correction. I don't drink in public," she corrected. She sat up, making sure not to disturb the small kitten by her. She made grabby hands towards the bottle in Harry's hand.

"Ah, ah. No more for you. You've drunk almost the whole thing," he mutters. He watches her glossy eyes look around the room, landing on the roses.

"Harry," she whispers, "take advantage of me."

He nearly drops the bottle as his knees go weak and his mind goes fuzzy. His pants suddenly become too tight for his liking as he watches her innocent face stare back at him. "Ashton..."

"Please? You'll be doing me a favor," she mutters. She stands up quickly, too quickly. She leans to the right a bit too much and nearly falls.

He shakes his head quickly. He couldn't. No matter how vulnerable she was, no matter how beautiful she looked in and out of her work clothes, he couldn't force himself to take advantage of her. Her beautiful eyes look broken and sad. Though, that only makes him want to kiss her.

"I really like you," she whispers, sliding in her socked feet closer to him.

"You do?"

"Yes, Harry."

He clears his throat, slightly raising his arms a bit as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He knew she'd never tell him that in her sober state. He quickly pushes those thoughts to the back of his head. "Who's sweater you got?" He asks in a sweet voice, hoping to calm her and get her to stop touching him.

She looks up at his raised arms and then to his face before releasing him. "I-" she stops, burping quietly while covering her mouth, "I don't want to talk about it."

Harry pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes a bit. "Are you a sad drunk? Do you cry?" He inquires as if he could read her mind just by asking.

"No, course not," she mutters. She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting slightly. Harry takes the time to notice the cute height difference and her cute, ratty hair. Only she could be attractive in this child-like state.

"Oh, really?" He asks. She nods, eyes staying concentrated on the roses. "If you're so happy, then, I might just tickle you to death," he murmurs, setting the bottle on the small table. Her eyes soften and she looks at him quickly.

"I'm not ticklish."

He ignores her comment, staring at her for a good moment. He then interrupts the cats slumber by pushing the small girl against the couch cushions and tickling at her ribs with his long fingers.

She squeals loudly, kicking around. It's everything in Harry to dodge her kicks and punches while tickling her even harder. She laughs until nothing comes out and she's just wheezing. When Harry finally stops she takes a deep breath.

Giggling again, she mutters, "I hate you." Harry only smiles, pulling her off of the couch by her small hand.

"Lead me to your room," he tells her. He watches her whole body slump a bit and her happy expression fade. She lets him keep hold of her hand as she leads him to her small bedroom.

He takes in the beautiful, white room. The walls were white, as were the fluffy comforters on her bed. There were a few random colors strewn here and there, random photos taped to the wall. She wasn't exactly neat, nor messy.

Once he released her hand, he sat on the edge of her soft bed. She parted his legs, standing between them. Harry looked at her, her drunken eyes gave away how broken she was. He wanted to know her secrets. But did she want to know his?

She intersects her arms at the middle of her waist, removing the sweater and then her t-shirt. Harry looked bewildered at her. "They're Nick's," she informed. He nodded hesitantly, not sure how to react. She watched him struggle to keep his vision above her chest. He wouldn't let his eyes wander down, for her sake. "Do it, Harry."

But he wouldn't. He couldn't. So, instead he stands and removes his jacket and dress shirt as well. She watches him intently, taking time to glance at his tattoo covered chest and arms. Her heartbeat sped up just at the sight of him. He pulls back the covers, gesturing for her to lay down. He soon joins her.

So they lay there together like that, shirtless. Not bottomless, but oddly enough, shirtless. They didn't spill secrets or kiss or make things awkward. They both lay in silence knowing that they were both messed up in a way the other wouldn't comprehend.

--

Okay, okay. Admit it. This is by far the longest chapter ever.

Why?

Just for the hell of it. Writing is my escape and I just couldn't stop today. I hope you like it. Please vote and comment.

Make my day better. Thanks for all of the reads ilysm.