Make It Work (Harry Styles)

Chapter 20

"You don't repair that relationship by sitting down and talking about trust or making promises. Actually, what rebuilds it is living it and doing things differently - and I think that is what is going to make the difference." - Patricia Hewitt

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Jenna's POV
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My stomach drops. Something's happened to Harry. I pass up Paul running to the stage. My legs have never moved so fast in my life.

"What happened! Where's Harry?!" I search frantically for him looking through the curtain. He's not on stage. Niall's trying to sing his solo, but just messed up. Why is Niall singing Harry's solo?! "Where is he?!" I turn to Paul, completely losing my mind.

"He's over there." He said pointing to my left. I turn to see Harry dropping to the floor holding his stomach. He slouches against one of the equipment cases as I run to his side.

"What happened?!" I scream hoping someone will answer me this time.

"He threw up." Paul informed me.

"Someone get me a cold washcloth." I say wiping Harry's damp curls from his face. "Come on. Lets get you to your dressing room." I wrap his arm around my neck and help him to his feet.

The second we get to his dressing room I help him lay onto the couch, and Paul enters with the washcloth I requested. I thank him and quickly turn back to Harry who's still writhing in pain. I fold the damp washcloth a couple times and put it on his forehead. "You don't have a fever, but how does that feel?"

"Good." He hums, his eyes still closed.

"Here. Gargle this." I say handing him a mini tube of mouthwash I assume was complementary with the dressing room. He sits up slightly, making it easier to gargle. "Now try to drink this." I hand him a water bottle once he's spit out the mouthwash into a bin. "If you can't, don't push yourself. I don't want you throwing up again." He nods taking the bottle from me. He takes a large swig and lays back down on the couch. The cloth is still on his forehead and his eyes are calmly closed when he speaks.

"Come here." He says, patting his stomach. I hesitate. "Sit on me. I can take it I promise." I sit on his lap, my knees aside his hips. I lay down and cuddle his chest, my head ending up in the crook of his neck.

"If you're feeling better you should get back to the stage." I said as I ran my fingers along the skin of his neck.

"Just give me a minute." He seemed as if he was trying to control his breathing. I could hear his heart pound beneath his chest. "Jen?" He asked, and I hummed in response. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I propped myself up slightly, trying to meet his eyes, but they were still closed.

"For everything. For feeling sorry for myself. For wishing I gave you more. If you say you're happy, I believe you. Well....I'll try to believe you. I'll give you whatever you want. No matter what. As long as you're honest with me."

"What do YOU want, Harry?" I emphasize the word 'you'.

"I want you to be happy..." He finally opened his eyes, meeting with mine. "And if you're happy....I'd like a kiss." He didn't have to say another word. I crashed my lips to his for the second time that day. Only this time...he kissed me back. He put just as much passion as I did - if not more. His lips tasted freshly like mint, which I'm thankful for considering what it probably would've tasted like without it.

His hands found their way to my hair as he deepened the kiss.

"Jenna." His voice vibrated against my lips. "Jenna stop." He said pushing me away. I searched his eyes for something other than happiness...but that was all I got when he smiled back at me.