Just Friends ll h.s.

CHAPTER ONE

I pick at the toast I have in my hands, picking off the burnt bits and pushing them into the bin. Eventually, I give up because it’s just too hard and -- fuck it -- I’ve eaten worse things than this (mouldy bread, expired cheese… you name it), so it’s fine. I can’t be bothered to make a new one because I’m waiting for Harry to come downstairs so I can have a go at him.

I’ve finished my toast by the time he comes downstairs, a blank look on his face. He’s shirtless, and his sweats are low on his hips, exposing a v-line. He’s not wearing any boxers. Lovely. I roll my eyes as he grins at me, sleep evident in his eyes. He blinks it off, though.

“Good morning,” he chirrups, and he’s too happy for my likings. “How did you sleep?”

I give him an icy look as he sits down, nicking the other toast I have on my plate. I don’t mind, really. He steals my breakfast every morning, so it’s resorted to me making more breakfast for myself than necessary. It works well.

“Didn’t sleep a wink.”

He feigns horror, his eyes faking sympathy as he looks at me from the other side of the table. “Why’s that, then?”

I snort, getting up and putting my plate in the dishwasher. “Are you fucking with me? Someone in Australia, which is on the other side of the world in case you don’t know, would’ve heard your fuck of the night’s moans.”

He looks so amused that it makes me want to slap that amusement out of his eyes. “What?” He asks, a smirk set on his lips. “You’re blaming me for your lack of sleep?”

“You know I’m a light sleeper. All I could hear was, ‘Uh Harry. Yes, Harry. Deeper!’ It’s extremely off-putting, y’know.”

His smirk has turned into a grin now, and it’s taking a lot of willpower for me not to reach over and slap him. I've done it before, the one time he put one of my thongs on and decided to prance around the house, showing all of our mates my underwear ("See, Niall, I told you she has red thongs, too!").

“Not my fault I’m good in bed,” he says, his eyes trained on me as he bites into his bread, crumbs trailing onto the wooden table. “I do like the sound of you moaning my name, though.”

I’m on my period and I truly haven’t been able to sleep properly, so it’s not completely my fault when I snap at him. It’s not how I’d like to spend my Monday morning, waking up grouchy and having to deal with Harry’s sarcastic little ass.

“Harry, stop playing around. I’m not fucking joking, you really took the piss with this one. You could’ve gone over to her house or something. I haven’t slept at all, and I have an exam today, so it hasn’t really helped.”

The smirk is wiped right off his irritatingly perfect face. Thank God. He frowns slightly, his eyes still on me. “You really didn’t sleep, did you?”

“No!” I say, and I am truly exasperated. Damn it, Harry.

He stands straight away, wiping his hands as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I know there’s no point in fighting because he’s bloody strong, so I pray that he won’t be able to tell I’m on my period as he carries me upstairs. He passes his room and goes straight into mine, dropping me onto the bed. He opens my wardrobe, humming as he flicks through my clothes.

“Right, what type of exam is this?” He asks, and I roll my eyes internally, trying to make myself believe I dislike Harry greatly. I can’t help but smile, really, because Harry can be really cute when he wants.

“It’s more of an essay. About How to Kill a Mockingbird,” I murmur, watching him try (and fail) to pick out a pair of clothes for me. He holds up a Christmas jumper, and I can only see his back but I know he's probably smiling because he remembers when he bought it for me. It was a last minute Christmas gift. Until after Christmas, he bought me a pricey perfume.