15 Years // harry styles

chapter twelve

B

I pull my warm cotton sheet closer to me as my sleep begins to fade. It seems to be stuck on something and I frown a little, tugging it harder. A low, raspy chuckle sounds in my ear.

"Been awake 30 seconds and you're already trying to undress me?"

I freeze, my eyes flying open.

Sure enough, my hand is balled up in the fabric of Harry's T-shirt, and when I look up he's smirking at me playfully. I groan and bury my face in his chest. The night comes flooding back to me; the kisses, waiting to see his car on the street below, the nightmare, his comfort. It all seems unreal- like its happening to someone else.

"You can go back to sleep if you like. You're quite cute when you're asleep."

I paw around the bed for my pillow, grabbing it and shoving it in his face.

"Too early. Too many words. Need coffee." I whisper, making myself crawl out of bed and to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, I cringe a little. My hair is a wreck, my makeup smeared below my eyes, just as it is every morning after a nightmare. The images start to play back in my mind: the darkness, the feeling of being watched, the hand on my shoulder, pulling me from the car. I shudder a little, splashing some cold water on my face.

In the morning baby.

That's what Harry had said last night, when the adrenaline was coursing through me and I was ready to tell him everything.

Now that morning has come, my edge is gone and I can't imagine telling him. Not this. It's sure to ruin everything. I shake the thought from my head, starting to brush my teeth. I'll tell him soon. I have to tell him soon.

"Are you alive in there? I need a wee. Like really bad," Harry calls through the door and I can't help but laugh a little. Problems with living in a small apartment: one bathroom.

"Can you hold it for like two more minutes?" I ask around my toothbrush.

"Probably not." His voice is a little shaky and I can tell he's dancing around a little.

I open the door, watching him spin around a little to face me. He's biting his lip and bouncing around. He frowns, seeing that I'm busy and I'm about to speak, but he beats me to it.

"Here, just don't look at me," he mumbles, and I can tell he's desperate. My eyes pop wide but I realize he probably can't wait so I nod and cover my eyes with my free hand, continuing to brush with the other.

I hear him unzip his pants and it takes all my will power not to separate my fingers just a little.

"No peaking." He seems to read my mind but I listen to him, the sound of him peeing drowned out by the buzzing of my toothbrush.

What a weird start to the morning.

"I'm done," he says, his voice closer now.

I uncover my eyes, spitting out the rest of my toothpaste and wiping my mouth as he begins to wash his hands. I go to hand him the towel, but instead he places his freezing cold, wet hands on my neck, making me gasp.

"You little shit!" I squeal, cringing and running out of the room away from him. He cackles behind me and I can imagine the smile on his face. His long legs serve to his advantage as he catches up to me quickly, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to him.

"Good morning B." His breath is warm against my neck and it feels amazing.

"Good morning you asshole," I tease, but I spin around and kiss him. He's more familiar than I ever thought he could be after only a few short days together. I can feel his lips pull into a smile, and I'm not sure why until I feel his icy cold hands run under the back of my shirt, freezing my skin.