Sparks Fly

Errors

Errors

Sparks Fly: Chapter 9


MaineLove

Errors. They had become quite the habit of mine; glazing over mistake after mistake hoping my upcoming actions might mend the wreckage of the last. But I was, as always, wrong. Everything was wrong. 

My inanity had caused utter destruction to my life. I had defied the utmost limit to foolishness the result was shameful. Becoming a puppet for a man that felt no love for me, it was lust fueling every finger he laid upon me. For me however, it had been deep affection and attachment that stimulated every kiss, every stroke. Life had a special way of being unbalanced with me.

It was not weird, or even the slightest intimate but rather treasonous. The moment of lying awake on peculiar, uneventful nights filled me with an incurable degree of disappointment. Being used with such beauty, being foolish enough to let him, I was unable to decipher with one was of more fault. Being with Zayn every odd night had seem to have its perks at the time of loneliness, betrayal, heartbreak. Only now it felt like an awful addiction, Zayn had become a drug. One of which she was fully aware of the consequence but refused to give up.

I hoped he’d be here for me.

I wrote upon my blank paper, the start of my first poem for creative writing.

No. I hoped he’d be here for me.

He’d never be here for the real me, the one he had fallen in love with. I hardly even considered it love it was mere attachment. Simple to acquire and a challenge to keep for himself. He was selfish.

 “There you are.” I glanced at the door, as he approached me. His smile curved higher to the right that the left, causing his grin to become lopsided. My gaze shifted to the notebook again, scratching thicker lines over my previous sentence. He perched himself next to me upon the windowsill, his fingers reaching to move a few veer strands of hair from my face.

“What do you need?” I questioned, my features inexpressive as I chewed on my lip.

“You know what I need,” he whispered his voice muffled against my skin as Zayn’s face buried into the crook of my neck placing several tender kisses. I shrugged him away softly, regaining my composure as I swallowed a, ill-favored moan. He reached around me taking hold of the notebook, tugging it from my fingers.

“Zayn I have work to do.” I was aware my resistance pestered him, also fully aware my refusal held no chance in a piddling few seconds. It still did not cease me from hoping. “Give my notebook back.”

“No, you can work later,” Zayn replied, tossing the book to a far corner of my bedroom.

“You know my grades are suffering.” He continued to ignore my pleas, his fingers clutching my hips and pivoting them forcefully to face him. I wanted acutely to shove him, and run as far as my legs would take me. So far, that he would be unable to discover me again. But I was hooked.

His lips attached to mine, naturally, just as they had been every odd day this month. I resisted against his hungry lips but he continued to persist, his right hand mingling with the small hairs on my neck keeping me in place as his free hand tugged my locks gently. His tongue swiped my bottom lip, begging for entrance, I obliged. He had won the silent unsought battle of dominance, except I was not attempting to be victorious. I hardly held any emotion as it was. 

 His kisses, they no longer sent severing sparks through my body, or an eruption of large butterflies in my stomach. Only a strong painful clench within my chest as I difficulty constricted. He pulled at the hem of my tank, indicating he would like it off. I lifted my arms above my head, as he pulled off trying hard not to break the intense contact. Lifting me up swiftly he ushered us to the bed laying me down, his fingers working furiously to remove all clothing in his path.

XOXO

The apprehension within the air could have been mauled, cut easily into thick sliced if any wish to do so. Gripping Harry’s sweater tighter my figure in a pitiful endeavor to ward of the chill building within me. It was no use however; the cold would unfailingly everlasting and continued to haunt me despite having left Zayn for a long while.

“Here you go,” Harry uttered, his expression softening as he furnished a piping mug of tea towards me. I purveyed a small grateful smile, sniffling slightly as I placed the cup onto the small coffee table before me. Silence echoed grimly through the room, poking and pulling at my brain. “Tell me what happened.” He took a rather taut seat next to me, his slim fingers reaching to message small circles onto my arm tickling me in the most enjoyable way.

“Well. Its quiet the long story,” I replied curtly, the thought of delving into the affairs of the previous month had my insides ready cripple. 

 “I’m here to listen,” Harry justified, using his free hand to lace our finger. “I’m always here.” His voice was a supple whisper, blown warmly against my ear.

“He’s been using me.”

He scrunched his nose cutely, wrinkles of confusion forming upon his forehead. “Erm. That’s quite vague Victoria.” I could feel maltreated tears prick the corners of my eyes as he continued to prod for answered.

“He comes to me every odd day for…” I respired heavily, feeling misery crawl up my spine. There was not a single soul aware of Zayn and I’s escapades, in all actuality I was wholly unknowing of how inform Harry of such distasteful events. “Sex.”

It was the minute the words had fallen headlong from my lips that the anxiety within the room had increased several hundreds of notches. The tick of the wall clock seemed to become infuriatingly loud; the chill had disappeared only to be replaced by scorching heat, scalding me. Harry’s grip around my fingers had tightened.

 “Why didn’t you tell me?”  

“I didn’t know how,” I elucidated, embarrassment churning within my stomach.

“We have to put an end to this crap.” It was unlike Harry Styles to curse, or even use the slightest bit of foul language indicate just how enraged he was at this. “I have to talk to him.”

“No! Harry don’t… I mean you cant… um.”

 “Why can’t I? Who does that prick think he is huh? Messing with your feelings, using you and then throwing you out like garbage,” he bellowed, his fists clenching no doubt with seeping rage. I rose to my feet ready to pace in circles until I was dazed and dizzy enough to forget my worries, when I felt Harry’s large hands clasp around mine tugging on top of him.

“H…Harry.”

 “I know your hurting but I’ll always be here.” He escorted my face tentatively to a kiss, my lips crumbling against his. Its was soft and supple, both of us exploring new undiscovered territory. Every movement was slow, allowing me to indulge into sweet passion dripping from his heart. A much more refreshing change compared to the heavy lustful kisses with Zayn, they felt rushed and forced.

There was one thing I had learned it was inevitable though. I had fallen for Harry Edward Styles.