Eighth Lesson- How to fight
This is how it should've gone:
I didn't let him walk away. My hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him back to me, until he was facing me, until his eyes met mine and I could see the hurt in them.
"Don't." I almost whispered, my voice hoarse and almost gone from how hard I had been moaning and screaming all day. "Harry...."
"You don't owe me any explanations." I knew those words.
"Why do I feel like I do?"
"I don't know." His chuckles had a hint of sadness and I felt how my heart broke, even more.
"I was drunk, you weren't there." I told him almost sobbing. "I kept thinking about you and Sam, and I got fucked up. Please, don't leave me."
"Don't cry." His thumb was running over my cheekbones, trying to stop the tears from running down my face. I had to look pathetic, naked, with a red ass, wild hair and tears on my face, but I couldn't help it. I pressed myself to his body, wrapping my arms around his shoulders so he wouldn't get away.
"Worst two weeks of my life." I laughed pathetically, my body rumbling with each little hiccup that came my way. "I'm sorry."
I left a trail of soft kisses down his shoulder, still a little panicked as I was the only one making any kind of contact, his arms were hanging limply at each side of his body. Up in my tiptoes, I kissed his neck, collarbones and shoulders, finally burying my face into the crook of his neck.
Life came back to my body when he wrapped his arms around my waist, as tightly as he could, so tight I almost had to gasp for air. His breath hit my skin when he hid his face on my neck, kissing it lightly. We were both sweaty, and his chest felt cold and clammy and while I would normally get grossed out from how naked and damp we were, I couldn't get enough of it.
"You're not gonna do anything else with him?" He asked me in a small voice.
"No. Not with him, not with anyone else."
"Are you gonna tell him to go fuck himself when he tries anything?"
"I may not be so rude." I kissed his lips softly, smiling when I saw his bright eyes looking at me. Sadness was slowly disappearing from them, being replaced by a lovely hint of happiness. I would give my right arm just to see his eyes every day when I woke up and every night right after going to sleep.
"Tell him you're mine."
"I like the sound of that."
"Are you mine?"
"You got me."
That was how it was supposed to go. I don't know why it didn't go like that, I don't know why I didn't reach to him, why I didn't stop him. Even if he was only going to the next room, it still felt like a hundred miles away, and I felt my heart getting smaller and smaller as he walked away.
Tears started to stream down my face but I was too busy trying not to fall down while I pulled up my jeans up. Fuck skinny jeans. When I was in the middle of pulling my shirt down, wriggling a little as my knotted hair had caught a button and now everything hurt, a different set of hands helped me out, untangling my hair and setting me free. I was so humiliated; I whirled around, trying not to let him look at me.
"You don't have to go. You can stay the night." I felt him take noiseless steps towards me, but I flinched away, taking a shoe and sitting on the bed.
"I don't want to."
"It's late. I'm going to be worried if you go."
"I don't give a fuck." I said and tried to put my shoe on, but Harry's hand took it and sent it flying across the room.
