I could feel the shroud of slumber gently lifting from my body. I tried to fight it, wanting to keep the amazing dream I had last night fresh in my mind. I hope I didn’t do anything embarrassing in my sleep, like make awkward noises for my roommates to notice. I rolled over with my eyes closed; grinning at what my imagination had conjured but quickly realized it was just a dream.
“Well, it was nice while it lasted,” I quietly said, my voice still sounding fresh with morning gruffness. I nuzzled my nose into the fluffy, white pillow while I slowly let my eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the small streams of light seeping through the curtains. I sighed contentedly, taking in the view of the room, just before my eyes widened like a frightened doe.
Next to me was a naked, sleeping Harry Styles, his legs tangled in the white bed sheets, and his arm gently draped over my bare waist. He looked so peaceful lying against the plush white sheets with speckles of sunlight splattered across his smooth, tanned face. The corners of his mouth were turned slightly upward in a sleepy, little smile as he snored softly beside me. I admired the scene that was before me and smiled to myself again. I glanced at the digital clock sitting on his night stand: 8:30 AM. I groaned at the time; even after a long and strenuous night, my internal clock always managed to wake me up at around this time every day. I sighed, realizing that I wasn’t going to be able to cuddle up next to Harry and return to my slumber. I carefully pulled away from him, but not before leaving a light, affectionate kiss on his cheek, trying not to wake him up. After I removed the covers, the chill of the morning London air against my bare skin sent a wave of goosebumps throughout my whole body. I searched the floor for something to cover up with. I saw my dress lying on the floor and my upper lip curled in disgust. There was no way I was putting that tight, uncomfortable strip of clothing back on my tender body right now. I picked up Harry’s boxer briefs from the floor and slid them over my hips, followed by his white undershirt, and finally, I tugged on his light blue button-down, leaving the buttons open. I took in the alluring scent that was lingering on the fibers of his shirt. I pulled the collar to my nose, inhaling the pleasant blend of cedar, nutmeg, ginger, and musk of his cologne.
“Burberry,” I quietly said to myself, still conscious of Harry’s sleep. “How typically English,” I mused, another content smile pulling on the corners of my lips. I sighed again, trying to remember the last time I had been this happy. However, I couldn’t let that thought pierce my brain too quickly. I had to remind myself that this was only a one time occurrence and that when Harry woke up, I would need to collect my things and leave. I shrugged my shoulders, figuring that I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.
I quietly tiptoed from Harry’s bedroom and into the hallway. I closed the door behind me, trying to avoid any loud noises reaching Harry before he woke up.
"Well, he probably won’t be up for awhile yet," I thought out loud. Although it went against my better judgment, my strong inkling to explore Harry’s flat was overcoming my lesson in manners whilst in other people’s homes. I took my time walking down the stairs that Harry so hurriedly carried me up the night before. The stairs were simple black metal with two rails encased in glass. The wall that rested above the stairs was covered in a myriad of black and white pictures with mismatched frames. It looked like pictures of family and friends through the years; not a celebrity in sight.
I came across a photo of a little boy that was about four years old. He was standing in a brightly lit park, wearing a tiny peacoat and woolen cap while casually looking over his shoulder. His expression was unscripted and it appeared as if someone had called his name from behind him and snapped the picture as soon as he turned his head. His hand was still outstretched in front of him, presumably to catch one of the little white dots of snow falling around him. The picture was absolutely beautiful but the aspect of it that drew me in were the eyes of this precious boy. His eyes were so big and bright with the glimmer of childhood innocence; I truly hoped this boy would never lose the childlike glow in his eyes. I couldn’t help myself from smiling at the boy with some futile hope that he would smile back at me. Oddly, in that moment, standing half-naked on Harry’s staircase, I found myself wishing that one day, I’d have a child as beautiful as the boy in the photograph.
