Untouchable

Chapter 21

Louis' POV

When I woke up, Harry was already awake. I could hear him fussing in the kitchen downstairs.

I smiled a bit to myself and I pressed my fingers to my lips. They genuinely felt sore. I'd spent ages kissing him and I probably would have for longer if we hadn't needed to stop to calm ourselves down.

It was almost embarrassing, how easily worked up I got. But in my defense, it'd been ages since Eleanor had broken up with me and it wasn't like I had gone out to pick girls up with my state of mind.

I inwardly cringed when I realized that the last and only person Harry had slept with was Taylor.

Taylor.

Thinking of them, their thing, whatever it had been, made an kind spark of anger flare up.

And then I remembered he'd slept with me too, but I had no recollection of it actually happening.

I kicked off the blanket that Harry must have gotten for us at some point and made my way downstairs, grabbing my glasses on the way down. They were in their case, I noticed. Harry probably had put them there; I never bothered.

My stomach twisted a little. I was nervous to talk to him.

I wanted him, that much was for sure.

But I wasn't sure if he would take me after all I had put him through.

I headed downstairs quietly.

He was in the kitchen, just like I had expected. He turned around when I came in and gave me a small smile.

I took a deep breath and just went for it.

I approached him and smiled up at him.

"Hi," I said carefully before stretching up to kiss him.

It wasn't anything much, just a quick peck, but it made me smile harder.

His hand gripped tight on my waist and he opened his eyes slowly, exhaling shakily.

"Don't know if I'm ever gonna get used to that," he muttered, giving me a strained smile.

I didn't try to think about what he meant. I just leaned back a bit and stole a sip of tea from his mug. I made a face.

"How do you drink that shit?" I grumbled.

Harry laughed and reached behind him to produce another mug.

"This is yours, you picky brat," he said.

I grinned.

"Thanks babe," I said quickly.

I paused, waiting to gauge his reaction.

His hands tightened on his own mug and he looked away from me.

I sighed.

"How about you make us breakfast and then we talk, okay?" I asked, reaching out to rub his arm.

"Okay," Harry replied quietly.

I sat on my counter and watched him while he cooked. I was content with the silence but he was on edge.

"H, the eggs are burning," I said when he stood rinsing off a spoon for a solid two minutes.

Harry swore and frantically turned off the heat.

He kept swearing under his breath as he tossed the ruined eggs into the bin and put the pan in the sink to cool it off.

His hands were shaking, I saw.