One (h.s.)

twenty three

the one with the impromptu kiss

-end of june 2014-

The next morning, at exactly 9am, Charlotte was already shuffling out of bed desperate to get to the toilet. The problem was that she didn't know where it was.

"Harry," she whispered, nudging his shoulder.

He was sleeping on his stomach, head turned towards her with an arm lazily draped over her stomach. His pouted cherry lips were slightly parted, releasing a small breath every time he exhaled through them. His curls were all over the pillow, displayed out on it, making it seem like he had a lot (a lot a lot) of hair (which was maybe partially true) (okay, very true). The only response from him she managed to receive was a grumble and a shift of his head so that his face now faced the pillow. Which was probably a bad idea as he started heaving because of the lack of air.

"Harry!" she said a bit louder, but not loud enough that it could manage to wake up Zayn.

He whipped his head back to the side as soon as he heard her voice and tried to calm down his breathing and stop the wheezing. His eyelids slightly opened, showing only a slit of his green eyes that were hooded with sleepiness.

"Hi, good morning," he breathed out as calmly as his voice allowed him to.

"You alright?" she asked with worry in her voice.

"Yeah," pinching the side of her stomach. "Did you need anything?"

"Uhm, may I go to the toilet?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Of course?"

She laid beside him for a while longer, not lifting herself off of the mattress.

"Why aren't you going?" Harry asked.

"I don't know where it is."

"Oooh!" he chuckled, closing his eyes again. "Out the door, to the right."

"Thank you."

Harry nodded in his sleep and removed his protective (but heavy) arm off her to allow her to step off the bed.

He heard the door open and after a few seconds the sound of her bare feet against the wooden floor and a door close swiftly. Then, he heard the doorbell.

He groaned loudly and shifted in bed to face the ceiling, but still not making a move to open the door. When the doorbell rang again, he puffed upwards to make his fringe clear off of his forehead and lifted the blankets, walking towards the front door.

A blue-eyed brunette was standing in front of him. A blue-eyed brunette that he literally could not stand and wanted her to leave immediately.

"May I come in then?" Michelle asked with a grin on her face.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with annoyance, closing his eyes and pinching the top of his nose with one hand still on the door, ready to close and shut her out.

"Just popping in to talk to you," she said innocently, which made him furrow his brows as he glared at her. "It's really important, Harry."

"Can't be that important for you to come in at nine in the morning, when we have absolutely nothing to talk about," he retorted.

"Just let me in, Harry," she said, eyeing the living room behind him. Until she spotted a pair of really feminine sunglasses on the coffee table. "Oh, I understand now," she said nodding her head.

"Understand what?" gathering up enough energy to slam the door in her face.

Michelle stepped forwards, decreasing the distance between the two of them. The moment her curious fingers toyed with the hem of his tee, he tensed, gripping the door harder.

"Someone's already here," she purred into his ear.

He was about to reply when her lips touched his and began moving slowly. Harry's hands went straight to her shoulders, pushing her away, but she only increased the pressure of her lips on his and leaned in closer.

It was the sudden gasp behind him that made them pull away.

-

Charlotte had returned to his bedroom, after brushing her teeth with her finger and a bit of Harry's toothpaste and splashing her face with water, to realise that he had already woken up and the bed was nothing but empty sheets.

She heard Harry talking with a female voice out in the living room and began approaching them. The only thing she heard was the girl say that someone was already there, when the noise of them talking was ceased.

She popped her head out of the hallway, when she gasped at the sight in front of her.

Michelle and Harry kissing at his door. His arms on her shoulder, seeming to pull her closer, and her thin fingers slightly lifting his shirt.

As soon as they heard her, they pulled away. Harry quickly whipped his head around to stare at her with an apologetic look, while Michelle stood behind him, giving her an evil smirk.

The only thing Charlotte could do was look from one to the other about ten times before mumbling a small 'sorry' and pacing back towards his room.

"Charlotte-" she heard Harry say as soon as she turned around from them.

Michelle only patted Harry on the back and then stepped out of his house, closing the door behind her, knowing that her job there was done.

He all but walked as quick as he could (because jogging or running through a three metre corridor inside his house would just be weird) to his room, finding Charlotte already dressed in yesterday's outfit, slipping into her shoes.

"Charlotte," he said again, closing the door behind him and leaning on it so she couldn't leave before she heard what he had to say.

She sat up from the bed as soon as her slip ons were on her feet. A look of desperation in her face's features, "Please, Harry, please let me leave," not walking towards the door in order to not get close to him.

He shook his head, "Not until you listen to me first."

She sighed and sat on the carpeted floor, her back leaning on the side of Harry's bed. He slowly approached her, sitting beside her so he could begin explaining what had happened. But as soon as he had found himself in a comfortable position, Charlotte had stood up and was bolting for the closed door, whipping it open and running towards the exit.

"No! Charlotte!" he shouted, running towards his door now (because it was acceptable, I mean, the woman he loved was currently running away from him). The front door to the building had already slammed shut when he had reached his door.

He groaned in annoyance at how she had escaped from him so fast, slamming his door closed and banging his head against it repeatedly. Torturing himself for not reacting quick enough.

•••

is it bad that i just used possibly the most overused situation where the crazy ex kisses the boy in front of his current girl and she is sad/mad and bolts

i hate myself