13.0 ; cannonball.
❝ stones taught me to fly.
love taught me to lie.
so come on, courage,
teach me to be shy,
’cause it’s not hard to fall
when you feel like a cannonball. ❞
★ j e r s e y ☆
I spent the rest of the night feeling terrible about my breakdown as I lay in Harry’s comforting hold on the couch. Seeing that I was reluctant to return to the kitchen, he had decided to scrap his attempted salad and instead ordered a small pizza from room service. It was midnight by the time I had finished eating my four slices—hey, a girl’s gotta eat—while Harry had only eaten two, snacking a banana as well.
“Wanna see if any of the other lads are awake?” he offered, turning his attention from the television to focus on me.
“Uh, sure.” I shrugged, not really minding either way. I was still feeling guilty, so I didn’t want to keep Harry from hanging out with his friends if he wanted to. So far, I’d managed to be pretty shitty company, so I didn’t blame him. I watched him give me a dimpled smile before pulling out his iPhone, tapping away at the screen as I looked back towards the television. An advertisement for some sort of exercise equipment had been playing for four minutes now. If I had to hear the spokesperson say, “But wait, there’s more!” one more time, I was going to strangle someone.
“But wait! That’s not all! If you call now, you can—”
I groaned, grabbing the remote to start flipping through channels. Harry startled me by suddenly nuzzling my shoulder with his nose, stealing my attention. “Hm?”
“Liam said he’s going to sleep and Zayn didn’t answer, but Louis and Niall said they’d come pay us a visit.”
Just as he finished speaking, there was a loud knock at the door, signaling their arrival. Harry pulled away from me again and rose to answer the door with me trailing behind, avoiding the kitchen and bathroom at all costs. Louis greeted us by striking a ‘seductive’ pose and asking us if anyone had ordered some sexy time with a Mr. Tomlinson, to which we both flatly answered no, letting the boys slip into the room.
For the next hour or so, we busied ourselves with a game of Fifa. All three were surprised to discover that I played video games, much to my annoyance. When that got boring, I stretched with a yawn and announced that I was going to sleep. Harry sent me off with a kiss on the bicep—he was an odd child—and the other two simply bid me a good night before I walked out of the room and into the adjoining bedroom.
It took me twenty minutes until I started to finally drift off under the covers, my mind having been consumed with nagging thoughts for the past couple hours.
Harry suspected something.
I knew he did. How could he not?
I was just left to wonder exactly what he suspected, and try to figure out how I could keep him from digging deeper and finding the truth.
✄ - - - ♡ - - - ♡ - - - ♡ - - - ♡ - - - ♡
“Wake up! Wake up! Wake! Up!” a voice shouted, each word punctuated by a rough tug at the covers I was stubbornly holding over my head.
“Noooooo,” I groaned, my voice muffled as I pressed my face against the pillow.
“Please!” Harry pleaded. “We have plans today!”
YOU ARE READING
Carry On {A Harry Styles Love Story}
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