i'm dead | harry styles

chapter thirteen

(Not edited)

"Is that your bra?"

I forgot to take my stuff out or at least clean the mess I made when I stayed in Harry's room. Heat burns my cheeks as I look down at my embarrassing animal print bra on his work desk. It isn't sexy. My mess doesn't compare to his, but at least I've organized his book back in his shelves.

"I spent some nights here."

"I'm not mad, but you could've at least-" he picks it up and brings it to his nose, "moved it."

"Harry!" I grab it from his hand and put it back inside my opened suitcase.

His raises his hands, "Don't be alarmed. I lost my sense of pleasure."

"You talk like a robot."

"Get me a rag? I'm wet." He asks and I leave the bedroom. I get a rag from one of the cabinets of the bathroom.

When I come back, he's sitting on the edge of his bed. He's shirtless and waiting for me. He's looking down on his feet on the floor and I sit crossed legs beside him, holding his chin for him to face me.

I press the towel softly on his wet face, drying him up. His fingers are spread on his knees and his eyes are closed as I practically caress him with the cloth. I stare at his features in the dim light shining through the window. Now that his hair is short I can see his vague facial hair, small details and ears.

The water droplets are running down his neck and it takes so much effort to stop retrieving myself from drying it. It's so hot.

A thunderclap makes me jump closer to him. His eyes open and I expect him to back away from my face, but he just stays there. He studies my face as I look down at his chest, nervously tapping the now wet cloth there.

"You have freckles."

The sound of his raspy voice sends chills down my spine.

"Didn't notice 'em before."

He tells me even lower. His fingers grab my chin and raise me to his face. Butterflies begin fly in my stomach as I realize how close we are.

"What more do you have I haven't noticed?"

I bashfully look down on his skin, his fingers still on my chin. He lets out a heavy breath, but it isn't frustration. When I look back at him, he's smiling heartedly.

"Are we still on for Author's Seat?"

"When do you want to go?" He grabs the rag and helps himself behind his neck.

"Anytime. Make it a road trip number two."

"Okay," he nods, standing up and pulling himself into a big sweatshirt. I bite my thumb and look away, controlling my thoughts. How can someone be so cuddly and hot at the same time? "Just the two of us?"

"I want Reese to come, too."

"That will happen if she ever forgives me. Is she still mad at me?"

"I don't know but she was talking about you-" I stop myself and save my butt quickly, "L-Like telling stories when you were kids. When there were storms like these you'd tell her scary stories in a tent."

"Hmm," he walks toward his closet and takes out a box. "How much you love hypothermia?"

"Not one bit. Why?"

"We're going to build a tent outside."

"No. It's raining outside. So no."

"So yes."