Fate [a Harry Styles fanfic]

Chapter 30

Harry turns around and looks relieved. Happy. His drunkeness has washed out now and he steps towards me.

"Are you hungry?" His eyes light up like a child. I can feel him truly satisfied for having me here.

"Not really."

"W-we can watch TV or a film. Or we can go take a walk before dinner." Harry picks at his fingernails, something he does when is nervous.

"Harry you're still drunk, I don't think a walk will make it any better."

"Film it is then." Harry sits on the couch and waves for me to do the same. "But for the record, I'm not drunk. You sobered me up."

I sit down on the couch as Harry keeps scrolling to find a decent movie to watch. He passes several ones that I love but gives up and allows me choose. I can feel his stare as I scroll up and down with the remote, and when I look at him, he smiles softly and looks away.

"You can't be serious." Harry complains when I chose The Perks Of Being A Walflower. But I brush him off, and press play.

I feel cold and ask for a blanket or something to keep me warm. "There's a blanket on the wardrobe on my room. I'll get it for you."

"No, I'll go." I smile at him and he nods.

In his room, the the smell of mint is more evidente than ever. Harry's scent. My favorite scent. I quickly find the fluffy brown blanket and grab it in my arm. I glance over his bed and smile. Remembering our night. The way he carried me from the couch and lay me down on his bed smoothly, his tan and tattooed body hovering over mine while he filled me. His kisses making every nerve on my body to shake. But soon I remember Amy and what must have happened in here and I feel nauseous.

Pushing it aside, I return to the living room, and Harry face is dozy. I notice he didn't started the film yet and also change it to a romantic comedy, The Proposal, which I've seen a handful of times.

"Sorry, but the other is just too depressing." I nod. "Have you seen this movie already?" He asks, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes, it's pretty funny."

"Well I bet is just another stupid unrealistic type of film." He rolls his eyes dramatically.

"No, it's not. And the two main characters work on publishing so, accurate." I sit beside him, unfolding the gigante blanket over us and press play. A huge grin is plastered across is face when I start explaining the plot.

"No spoiling, please." And I laugh, which he follows.

Halfway through the movie and I feel Harry's hand on my waist pulling me closer to him. He looks like sleeping but I know better. "Maybe I should go and let the asshole sleep the night away." And sure enough his eyes open and he tickles me. "You wouldn't dare."

"I can always watch the movie on my room."

"Shh, I'm trying to see the movie." His raspy voice makes him even cuter than usual and his hands stay still around my waist. I don't mind. Actually, I'm thankfull.

When the movie ends, Harry is sleepy and I don't move until de final credits. But Harry asks. "How can this be accurate if I'm way hotter than that guy?"

I laugh out loud and he fakes offended. "Why are you laughing?" He tries to hide a smile but the conners of his mouth give him away.

"How can you be hotter than him?"

"First things first, my face. Dropped from heaven." He tries now a poker face. "Second and last, my body. I don't even have words. Just look at it."

Harry is way hotter than Ryan Reynolds, but I'm never admiting that. "No one is hotter than Ryan Reynolds. Period."

"I mean, you already saw it up close. Pretty amazing I would say." He smirks and my mind drifts for that night again. Jesus.

"For one thing I tell you, you're way hotter and prettier than Sandra Bullock." Harry helds my chin up, my eyes glueing his. My skin is already on fire by his soft touch.

"So you knew the actors names."

"The names, the plot, the director... A box of surprises, am I?"

Literally, my subconscious reminds me of the real world. Because right now I'm in a world apart from Earth, with him.

It would be nice though, to be able to live in it, to be part of a another dimension. Nice and impossible, may I add.

Harry breaks my thoughts. "Hungry now?"

Very.

Jesus, Mia. Stop.

"Yes, a bit."

"You want me to order something or chef's choice?" He grins. "Chose the second." He whispers, winking at me.

"It depends. Am I signing up for food poisoning or something?"

He stands from the couch, covering me tightly with the brown blanket. "You'll never know."

I watch as Harry gathers all the ingredients and dishes and starts cutting vegetables. I can't tell if he knows that I'm staring but it's impossible to look away. His white t-shirt is so tight against his muscles that I'm pretty sure I can count every single one and describe every single movement. And so thin that his tattoos are on full display. The leaves on his lower stomach can be seen fully when we reaches for some dishes in the kitchen cabins. I'm sure he knows I'm looking when I notice him smile softly but not eyeing me. I finally convince myself to look away and get some entertained watching TV while I'm waiting.

When dinner is ready I try not feel too impressed. But Harry's a great cook. So much better than me.

"So?" He raises a brow at me, when I stay quiet, my stomach too happy to allow me to speak.

"Not bad, Styles."

"Styles now?" His tone is neutral but is expression is somehow puzzled.

I clear it up. "Every great chef it's called by its last name, I think."

"So I'm a great chef?" He smirks and I smile continuing the most tasty meal I've had in a while.

After dinner, I keep around a bit and Harry claims he has the worst headache ever. "You were drunk and went to drink again during dinner. That's on you because I told you."

"I think I'm going to die." Dramatically, Harry falls on the couch.

"What a shame to lose such a good Chef."

"I'm so sick Melissa." Harry yells and I sit right next to him. He must be joking but I feel bad for his hangover. It was partly because of what happened with Liam. And that happened because Harry was helping me. Helping me when I shouldn't even get close to him again.

I probably shouldn't even be here in the first place.

"Got ya!" Harry laughs and I swat his arm.

"I'm going now, Harry, but thank you so much for the dinner. And for helping me clean up that huge mess she did."

"She?" Harry sits up and I don't know how to get away with this one.

"She who? You know who did that?" Harry asks, annoyance clear on his tone. "Tell me."

I head for the door and turn the door knob but he catches my arm, turning me around in less than a second.

"Mia, who fucking did that?" His grip is soft but enough to make me stand still in front of him. His green eyes search for mine when I try to escape them as much as I can.

"I don't know, Harry. But I should go now. Thank you again for everything."

Harry signs in defeat but I know he won't let this go.

I just hope he won't do something to regret later.

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