What a Feeling (Harry Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 1

*Camryn's POV*

     A million thoughts reside in my head at all times, but the moment Harry's lips touched mine, all of them dissipated. Even after he drew away slowly, there wasn't a thought drifting through my mind, though maybe it's because he intertwined his fingers with mine and just stared at me. It was like there were stars in his eyes, constellations that connected his gaze to mine.

"Cam," he whispered, now gaping down at my hands.

"Yeah?"

"Why hadn't we done that sooner?"

     I laughed and leaned back in my seat, fixating on the moon while Harry was, I'm sure, still fixated on my hand. He rubbed his thumb across the back of my palm and goosebumps cooled down my body. My chest burned, but it didn't hurt so much as confuse me. I meet Harry's eyes again and suddenly the millions of thoughts come rushing back to my mind, but this time I welcome them. I let them take home in my head, let them roam around and struggle to find their way into my heart.

They won't, though. They never do. I don't let them anywhere near my heart, won't let them close enough to hurt me.

     Without even realizing it, I untangle my fingers from Harry's and forget about the stars in his eyes and focus on the ones in the sky instead. He pulls away reluctantly, and I can feel the burn of his stare but I try my best to ignore it. He reaches out again, grazing his fingers against my fingers and I slowly set my hands in my lap.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning his attention and entire body towards me.

"Nothing," I whisper, still watching the sky. I can feel the bass from the music inside and for some reason it makes me uneasy, like I need to get up and move around, to be in synch with the beat, to get out of this chair and out of these feelings.

"Something's wrong," he breathes. He brushes his curls out of his face swiftly and raises one eyebrow, waiting for me to explain everything to him.

     He should know me by now. We've been friends for years, so he should know that I don't and won't let him in. I won't let anyone in. It's not that I don't want to, because sometimes, I get this uncontrollable urge to call him at three in the morning and spill everything—my secrets, my fears, my desires, everything. But I can't. Something keeps the words trapped in my throat and incarcerated in my mind. Really, he should know this by now.

"I am fine," I tell him, forcing myself to smile slightly. And really, I don't even know what's wrong. Nothing should be wrong, but something feels that way.

"I know that you're not."

     I merely shrug. And moments later, I find myself staring at his lips, craving them or at least craving for him to speak, but he doesn't. So finally I look away, crossing my arms and dropping my gaze to the floor. I shouldn't have let him kiss me in the first place, right? What if our entire relationship, that has been platonic up until tonight, is damaged because of this, because of lips moving against lips? I care about him. I care more than I am willing to admit. I want and need him in my life, and whether or not he realizes that is a mystery to me. He reaches out to touch my hand once more and retaliates when I pull away. He locks our fingers together without my consent and I eventually give up, letting him hold my hand until a small smile tugs its way at the corner of his mouth. And for some reason his smile ignites something within me, or melts something within me, either setting a fire underneath my bones or melting them. The feeling is completely new and foreign, and it absolutely terrifies me. It's enough to bring literal tears to my eyes.

So I get up out of the chair abruptly and begin to walk across to the gate, excusing myself from my backyard, the party, and Harry. I shake my head as a tear makes its way down my cheek and I scold myself, racking my brain to figure out why exactly I'm crying. I can't seem to find an answer.

"Styles," I call, feeling utterly humiliated when my voice cracks, "you should get back to the party. Have some fun."

Then I unlock the gate and run out onto the sidewalk. I hear Harry's footsteps, and am both relieved and frustrated when I realize that they are following me.