Switching Roles ll Harry Styles

chapter eight

Somehow, I find myself wrapped in Harry's arm on his couch, watching Stuck In Love, my favorite movie. He complained, but he agreed saying something about if it would make me happy. It takes everything in me not to push Harry off of me. I'm still acting mean to him, but I dialed it back, even though every fiber of my being is repulsed by him. He sighs and pulls me closer to him, and I let him. I feel him kiss the top of my head, and I hear him yawn, so I look up. His green eyes are dark with sleep, and I smile. "Tired?" I ask sarcastically.

He yawns again before saying, "Just a bit."

"Can I stay the night?" I ask, turning off the TV.

"Do you even have to ask?" He retorts. I laugh and climb off him, making my way to the guest room. Harry follows me, and I stop by the door.

"Can I help you?" I ask, blocking his entrance to the room. "Look, Harry, just because I'm trying doesn't mean we can start being full on in love. I'm learning to tolerate you again, so I need some time. Okay?"

"Okay," he says, and the look of sadness is so real, I almost believe it. But it's too real which means it's definitely fake. "Do you at least want a T-shirt?"

"I've got clothes," I say softly, and he nods. He leans down and pecks my lips gently before turning to walk to him room which is on the opposite end of the long hallway. He cracks his door, and I crack mine, peeking out to see him reach behind him to his neck and yank off his shirt. His back muscles contract as he does so, and I bite my bottom lip.

Just because I'm not buying doesn't mean I can't look. I gag at the thought and close my door completely, hopping on my bed with a little bounce. I turn on the TV and fall asleep to Friends playing softly.

~

In the morning, the smell of bacon wakes me up. I yawn and stretch, my stomach grumbling. I get out of bed, the hardwood floors cold under my feet. I don't try to fix my appearance, knowing there's no way I can look even half-way decent. Harry is in the kitchen at the stove, shirtless and wearing sweatpants. He's humming one of his songs, and I scoff in my head. Self-centered much?

"Since when can you cook without burning the place down?" I ask, causing him to jump a little. A piece of bacon falls to the ground, and he holds his hand to his heart. I laugh and plop down at the table. "It better be good because I'm starved."

"Goodmorning to you, too," he says, throwing away the bacon that fell to the ground. He gives me two pancakes, eggs, and bacon, plus a glass of orange juice. "No pulp, just how you like it."

"Thanks, Harry," I say taking a sip. I begin to scarf down the food, hunger making me turn into a teenage boy. I eat like a boy, and Harry knows this, he used to say it's one of the things he liked the most about me. He eats as well, and when we are done, he stares at me for at least five minutes straight. "Well, are you going to keep staring at me like a stalker or are you going to say something?"

"You are certainly warming up to me I see," he says angrily, getting up and throwing the plates into the sink with such force, I'm surprsied they don't shatter. "Damn it, Lauren, what is it going to take for you to forgive me?"

"Harry, I have hated you for a year. You broke my heart," I remind him, my voice struggling to stay low. "You can't just waltz in, say you like me again, and expect me to worship you. If you keep pushing it, I'll never forgive you, so shut up and be patient."

He takes a few dep breaths, and I can tell he's calm again. "Kiss me," he says, a pleading note to his voice.

"What?" I say, shocked he would ask me that after what I just said.

"Just once, no cameras, no hurry," he begs.

I shake my head and get up, giong back to the guest room. "You aren't even trying," he whispers. I stop in my tracks. I can't take it too far. He has to think I'm trying to fall for him agian. I have to give him something. I turn and walk back over to him. He leans down and attatches his lips to mine, softly. Our lips fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, and it isn't long before he picks me up and sets me on the counter.

His tongue runs along my bottom lip, asking for permission, and I give it to him, opening my lips just slightly. My whole body is tensed, every nerve ending on fire. Every part of me is screaming to relax, he has to think it's believable. He must sense how un-into this I am, because he kisses my jaw, then the place where my neck meets my jaw, then farther down my neck, until he is at my collarbone. My weak spot.

He nips at the skin lightly before running his tongue over it and sucking gently, marking me with a love bite. I relax, and he smiles against my skin. His lips find mine again, but they are more rushed, more sloppy. I run my fingers up his shirt and scratch at his back, and he groans softly. he goes to push my shirt up, but I stop him, detaching myself from him. He pants and groans softly, nuzzling my neck, but I push him away. "See? That wasn't so bad," he says breathlessly, a smirk overcoming his pink swollen lips.

I smile, and notice his eyes are darker than usual: lust overcoming them. He watches me as I study the effect I have on him. Pink, swollen lips, his breathing fast and shallow, his hair messier than usual, his eyes dark and dilated. I smirk to myself when I realize that it's working. He believes me which is a very good thing. I guess I'm a good kisser.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, pushing a piece of hair away to study the mark he left on my collarbone. He smirks before pecking it gently.

"Nothing, just didn't know I had this effect on you," I say, a little out of breath myself.

"Oh, babe, you'd be surprised at what just the thought of you can do to me," he whispers, his hot breath hitting my ear. I look away and force a blush, even though all I want to do is puke.

"Don't worry," I whisper back, "I'll find out soon enough."

He scoffs and I push past him to my room where I change and try to cover up his mark with make up. But I make sure to make it barely visible so any smart paps can get a picture of it and spread the rumor that Harry and I are hot and heavy. It's what we are supposed to be doing anyway, and I'm going to make it noticeable. Might as well keep my job while destroying Harry.

I walk back out to find Harry waiting for me. "Can I drive you home?" He asks.

"Sure," I shrug, kissing his cheek. He smiles a little, and I smile back. He opens the door and we walk hand in hand down to his car where he opens the door for me again. "Such a gentleman."

He bows and helps me in before closing my door and going to his side and hopping in himself. I look around just to make sure there are paparazzi and there are. I smile because everything is working. Harry sends me a look, but I shrug innocently. He smiles back at me, and he turns up the radio, singing along. I close my eye and lay back, listening to his voice. IT's smooth and changes key at all the right places, and it seems to flow over every word. I will admit he has talent, just like I'll admit he's very attractive, but I still hate him. I will always hate him.