too young for this { harry styles }

Chapter 28.

Harry's POV.

~

I entangled my hands into the hair at the back of her perfect neck.

My lips pressed against her in the most forceful manner, there was no way she could pull away, even if she ever wanted to.

I wouldn't let her pull back, I wouldn't let her go now.

I don't know what overcame me after she left me. I don't even know why I was taking a fucking shower at 3 in the morning, but I was stupid enough to let her go and to take a shower.

I blame the fucking curls for ruining it.

At first, when the perfect love of my life left me alone in that fucked up hotel room, I believed that she'd come back.

But I waited, and waited and waited. She never came.

During the moments of that event, I think some kind of madness consumed me as I tried to come back to my senses.

Ivy needn't seen the blood on my knuckles from punching the wall earlier, or the anger in my eyes.

Or maybe she did notice how upset and full of anger I was, but I gave her no choice.

I wanted her to pay. To feel the loss I had felt that dreadful morning.

When I felt no reaction of Ivy, my lips that tasted from alcohol because of her leaving, and hers of cotton candy vodka, felt perfectly perfect pressing against each other until I realized that she had no desire for me to kiss her lips.

Was I the only fucking one in the bathroom when she admitted to being insane? AKA, telling me she was in love with me.

Or was nobody there?

I guess, in some metaphorical world, neither her or I were there. We were both drowning in alcohol and insanity, but I knew only one thing: I wasn't going to let her leave me, not now. Not after every fucking thing I've done to be near here.

My hands on her face, pressing her head against the wall so I could find my lips and tongue to explore her beautiful mouth, I felt her gasp.

I could feel her hand, pushing against my chest as I held on tighter to her face. She squirmed and squirmed and tried to push me away, but that's what she does. She pushed everyone away, even if she needs help from herself, she pushed everyone away.

That's when I felt it.

The numb tingling on my face after her hands found their way to my cheek.

I then let go of her face and pulled my lips away. Not from choice, but from consideration of the perfect, helpless girl standing in front of me next to the ugly golden wallpaper in this hideous bathroom.

She frowned to herself as I palmed my cheek, trying to comprehend what was happening. But I could comprehend anything, and it wasn't because of the whiskey I had earlier today.

She pressed her perfect pink lips into a fine line and breathed in with her nose heavily. Furrowing her brows, she whispers to me out of disbelief.

"Don't you ever," she paused to close her eyes, as if shutting the world out, "Do that again."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't understand what she had said.

And before I could control it, a small chuckle erupted from me, as if I hadn't cared at what she was saying. And maybe I didn't care that is.

"You slapped me." I whispered, more to myself than to her. She needed no reminder of what she had done because she knew.

Her blueish-green eyes went wide for a split second, and then she grimaced up at me. "I slapped you because you were hurting me."