Illicit [Harry Styles]

Chapter 37

After traipsing back into the school and asking around, I discovered Harry hadn't shown up for a couple of days. Upon hearing that, I marched straight to his house.

His black BMW was the only car in the driveway, which hopefully meant it was just him inside. I rang the doorbell that played fancy a tune rather than just sounding as a simple 'ding dong', and waited. I waited for what must've been a few minutes before ringing again, but still no answer came. I thumped hard on the wood and peeped through the letterbox hoping to see or hear him in the house.

"Harry? Answer the door!" I shouted. Still nothing. "Harry! I know you're in there, just answer the door!"

It would be really awkward if someone else was home or one his very few neighbours saw and heard me shouting through his letterbox like a madwoman, but I didn't care. After my chat with Louis I was feeling indestructible and like I wanted to have a very stern word with him — I was all fired up and ready to let loose, if he was even here.

I had been standing on his doorstep for fifteen minutes, about to turn around and give up when the door flew open and Harry huffed at me, standing there looking rather unamused in grey sweatpants and a black tshirt thad had mysterious marks and stains on it as though he'd been wearing it for days on end.

"What."

"I've been stood out here ringing the doorbell for ages," I told him.

"I was asleep."

It was half covered by his slightly oily hair, but when I looked at his face I caught sight of a purple bruise on his cheekbone just below his eye. I was about to give him an earful, but I'd forgotten why I was angry when I saw the wound. My hand reached out instinctively to touch it gently, pushing his hair out of the way and making him flinch when my fingertips grazed over the purple and blue mark with a small, ripe cut in the centre.

"What's this? Harry, what happened to you?" I asked quietly, examining him.

He inhaled and then exhaled slowly, his eyes closing for a long moment. "Liam punched me."

"What?" my eyes grew wide and my eyebrows furrowed in shock, my hand retracting from his face. Is this his idea of a joke?

"You heard," he grumbled.

"Liam punched you? As in, Liam Payne?"

"Yes Liam fuckíng Payne! Do you wanna say it again? One more time for the hell of it?" he snapped sarcastically.

"You're lying," I shook my head. "Is this your way of trying to make me forgive you?"

"Why the fück would I lie about that? You think I want people thinking I can't hold my own against that díckhead just to win you over? Dream on," he spat. He appeared to be very angry considering he was the person in the wrong here. It was supposed to be me yelling at him, not the other way round.

"When? When did Liam hit you?"

"An hour after you kicked me out your house. I came straight home, an hour later he was knocking on the door and when I answered he just fuckíng punched me straight in the face. He was so weird about it too, like he wasn't even that mad, just said 'sorry to have to do that, mate, but you deserve it' and left."

I stared dumbfounded at Harry and he just looked back at me with a scowl on his face. We both were just stood in a deadly silence facing each other; he was waiting for me to say something and I was just trying to get my head round what he'd just said. Liam punched Harry? He was so sweet to me and left so calmly, only to drive to Harry's house and punch him on his doorstep.

"Can I come in?"

Harry shrugged in a 'suppose so' kind of way before stepping to the side to let me past him. I kicked off my shoes and he led me into his lounge, plopping down onto one of the pristine white sofas and running his fingers through his hair. I perched on the sofa next to him, my anger replaced with anxiety now.