Devils Star | h.s

Chapter 40

It was the following morning, and since it was my day off, I decided to finally get some housework done.

Harry could probably afford an entire cleaning crew if he wanted to. But he always refused to hire anyone. Said he didn't like strangers in his space. Said it felt weird.

Not that I expected anyone to clean up after me, either. But lately... I'd found myself doing more than just my own chores.
I was cleaning up after Harry, too.

"Just this once," I muttered to myself, wiping down the kitchen counter. Though I already knew I'd said that before.

Halfway through reorganising the bookshelf, my phone buzzed aggressively in my pocket.

"Hello?"

"Nadia. Harry's manager. Seriously, you still don't have my number saved?" Her sharp tone cut straight through me.

I sighed, already exhausted. "Didn't think I'd have the pleasure of hearing from you again." Sarcasm, my favourite shield.

"Yeah, yeah. Where is he?"

"Who? Harry?"

"Who else?" She snapped. "He's not at band practice. I've called him a dozen times. Get him there. It's important." She hung up before I could say another word.

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I abandoned the half-dusted shelf and made my way to Harry's room. I knocked, calling his name. No answer.

I pushed the door open, carefully.

There he was, sprawled across the bed, sound asleep.

"Harry," I called gently. Nothing.

"Harry!" I raised my voice, stepping closer. That's when I noticed the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead and the uncomfortable twist of his features.

Was he having a nightmare?

"Hey, it's okay." My voice softened as I reached out and tapped his shoulder. "Harry—"

Suddenly, his body jolted awake, and his instinct had me pinned beneath him on the mattress before I could process what happened.

"Harry!" My heart raced. "It's me. Aurora. It's just me."

His eyes blinked hard, still clouded with sleep and something else—confusion? Fear?

"Aurora?" His voice cracked slightly. He looked... off. Groggy.

"You were having a nightmare," I said gently, as if speaking too loud might snap the delicate air between us.

"What are you doing here?"

"Your manager called. She's losing her mind. You've missed practice."

"Shit!" That seemed to wake him properly. "What time is it?"

I barely got the words out before he was bolting out of bed and stripping his shirt off like it was on fire.

"Woah—can't you wait until I leave the room?"

"It's not like you haven't seen me naked before," he tossed back, utterly unbothered. "Besides, I need a shower."

And just like that, there he was—walking confidently, completely bare into the bathroom. Zero shame.

I covered my eyes instinctively. "Jesus. Warn a girl next time."

From the bathroom, I heard the shower switch on. "You off work today?"

"Yeah. Day off. I was gonna finish some housework."

"I'll clean up my mess later."

"It's fine. I already did."