Cut Ropes (A One Direction Fanfiction)

10: Promises

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“Want anything to drink?” Harry asked as we got inside. I took off my slippers by the door and walked over to the counter in his kitchen. Same style flat as ours, just more Harry-esque. And by Harry-esque I mean old band posters hanging up, random posters of what I’m guessing is his family, and some shirts and shorts scattered aimlessly around the floor or on the coach. What a boy. 

“Are you going to spike it again?” I snapped. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say that,” I sighed, putting my hands over my tired face. Harry turned towards me and handed me a glass of water to accompany his. He leaned over the counter so our faces were on the same level. 

“I can’t even begin to tell you how utterly sorry I am about what happened tonight,” Harry whispered. He looked so distraught. But I can’t let him get away with it that easy. Anything could’ve happened. 

“I just…I just don’t understand why you would do it, ya know? Spiking my drink is one thing, but then to just let that guy do what he was doing to me? I didn’t think even you would sink that low,” I lectured. His head drooped at my words. 

“I can’t explain it. Just know that no matter what, it will never happen again. No one is going to ever touch you as long as I’m around, okay?” he said, looking up at me with those green eyes of his. He looked much softer, much less intimidating than he did back in my flat. 

“But what if I want the guy to touch me? Then you have to let him do it, okay?” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood about the subject. I won’t be able to forget what he did, but I can’t just hold it against him forever either. Everybody makes mistakes, right? Even hot, punk boys. 

“We’ll see,” he winked, taking my now empty water glass and washing it before heading upstairs. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked as he was half way up the stairs. I guess I zoned out, scared out of my mind for Monday. I nodded and followed him up the stairs. 

He turned right and walked into his room. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but this room pretty much screamed Harry. The walls were midnight dark blue and his bed matched, but it was huge. I can’t even imagine all the girls he’s brought back here. There were old bands and new band posters hung up randomly around the wall, some nicer than others. He had a desk, just like everyone else’s who lived in one of these school flats, but next to it was something I didn’t expect. 

“A microphone?” I asked, walking over to the beautifully professional looking mic on it’s stand, with a chord running to the computer. 

“You do remember that we both are majors in music, right?” he chuckled. I face-palmed and let out a long “oh yeahhh” as he chuckled. I looked at the mic and the portable keyboard unhooked next to it. This place seems like a great place to jam. 

As I turned around, Harry was taking his shirt off. At first I flinched to not face him, but hot damn how could I not look at him? I stared at his back muscles as he pulled the shirt over his head. He slid his jeans and socks off after, with me staring the whole time. I tried not to drool, but it was a very difficult task. He turned around towards me and I tried my best to recover. He looked at me and quirked his eyebrow upwards, a smirk placed on his lips. I felt myself go red, knowing I got caught in the act. 

“I charge for strip shows,” he smirked, holding his hand out as if for money. I laughed. 

“What? You won’t let me pay you with…other things? You must be a shitty stripper,” I winked, referring to the usual idea of what strippers and their customers do.