Underneath My Skin

Ch. 17

I look at the clock on the nightstand and it reads; 9:01 a.m. I groan and slip out from under Harry. I walk across the hall to my room, go into my bag, and grab a baggy T shirt and some shorts. I walk over to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and take a quick shower. My body is exhausted from lack of food and sleep.

I carefully step out of the shower and get dressed. I put foundation on the dark circles that have formed under my eyes. I run my fingers through my wet curls. Harry said he likes it like this, so maybe I'll leave it like this.

I put my bag away and walk into the kitchen. I pull out pancake mix, eggs, and bacon. I cook the food and when i'm finished, I neatly put it onto two plates. I grab two glasses and fill them with orange juice.

As if on cue, Harry walks into the kitchen. He has on a white T shirt and baggy gray sweat pants that hang low on his hips. Damn. His hair is damp and sticking to his forehead, so I'm guessing that he just got out of the shower. His eyes rake down my body and when his eyes finally meet mine his nostrils flare.

"That's Zayn shirt," he snaps.

I look down at my over sized T shirt and sure enough, its Zayn's. I didn't even notice. He gave it to me the night I got attacked by Thomas. I gulp and look back into Harry's eyes.

"Yeah, it is," I say softly.

How on earth did he know it was Zayn's? He must really pay attention to detail.

"You have his shirt, but you didn't fuck him?" He raises his voice.

I don't know who he's snapping at, but he needs to pop, lock, and drop that attitude.

"I bet you did fuck him," he barks with a disgusted look on his face.

I cock my head to the side. "So, what if I did?" I snap.

He balls his fists. "Then, why would you lie to me and tell me you didn't?!" He yells.

I roll my eyes. "I didn't fuck him. He gave me his shirt the night I got attacked in the alley because my shirt was all ripped and bloody."

His fists loosen and his eyes soften.

"Take the shirt off," his voice is almost a whisper.

"Why? Its comfortable."

"Please just take it off," He pulls his shirt over his head. "Here take mine."

I roll my eyes and take Zayn's shirt off. I set it on the counter, walk over to Harry, grab his shirt, and put it on. He watches me hungrily. He looks at his plate of breakfast on the island then looks back at me.

"Thanks for breakfast. Can we eat on the back porch? Its pretty outside."

I nod, grab my plate and my glass and follow Harry onto the back porch. We sit down and start eating.

"Pancakes are your favorite breakfast food," Harry says.

I take a sip of my orange juice and look at him. "How'd you know?"

"You savor it and chew it slow, like you want it to last. As for the other food, you just eat it normal."

I scoff. He's going all psychologist on me. But, my body ignites at the realization of him watching me so closely, studying me. I look into his eyes and smile. His pupils dilate and he smiles back.

"You like it when I smile," I say boldly.

He leans forward. "How'd you know?"

My stomach erupts with butterflies.