Torn (harry styles)

36- Caught In The Act

I am so puzzled. He should hate me, he should want to never speak to me again. He should be mean to me!

After what I said, I deserve it.

He's not doing what I said though, I told him to stay away and here he is.

"He's not an arsehole." I try to defend Dexter.

Harry scoffs.

"He is."

"How?" I ask, remembering what Harry said to Dexter about me and how he wanted to 'bang' me.

The back door to Niall's house has been opened so there is a dim glow shining on Harry's face.
"He's-" Harry starts a sentence but doesn't finish it.
"He's what?" I ask, irritated.
"Nothing." Harry frowns, shaking his head slowly. "I just don't like him, and I don't think you should either."

I know that's not what he was going to say, there was something behind his words like he knew something. Like he had a real reason not to like him.

Maybe Dexter and Harry have a history or something?

I don't know what to do or say, why is he here?!

"Why are you speaking to me? After that phone call I assumed you would hate me." I wander out loud. He turns and faces me, I can tell he is frowning.

"I make my own decisions, it's not up to you whether I talk to you or not. I do what I like." He explains, he wants to talk to me then. I can't help but smile to myself.

"why didn't you come to the bench?" I ask him.

He is silent for a moment and I hear him sigh...
"You didn't, remember." He points out.

His voice is soft and calm, the space between us is close to none and I feel so comfortable. The pain in my abdominal has dulled down a bit but I will need a few pain killers soon.

"Sorry about that." I whisper.

He just hums in response and there is a comfortable silence between us.

"Was it you who carved into the bench?" I ask him, I know it's weird to ask but I don't feel too embarrassed asking harry.

"Maybe, maybe not." He says softly and I can tell he's smirking.

There is a calmness to him. It's like this is the most peace I have had in weeks.

I smile.

A kick of pain squeezes at my stomach making me now over and groan.

"You okay?" He asks me, His warm hand on my back.

"Stomach pain." I wince, hugging my knees.

"Still?"

He remembers from last time.

I nod quickly and groan again.

"Do you need to go home?" He asks me, I nod.

He stands up shakily, I know he's drunk but he's very good at handling it when he needs to.

He holds his hand out for me to take, pulling me up off the bench. We walk down the garden, his arm around my waist.. Keeping me stable.

It probably looks like I'm too drunk to walk and he's just escorting me.

The pain grows worse and worse. My eye sight is blurry and I feel like I could be sick...

I'm going to be sick.

I can feel the bile rising up in my throat. Burning my throat glands on its way.