Crazy | {h.s}

Since sliced bread; String Cheese

{{like the best chapter so far and over 2,000 words so, you're welcome}}

oh god

I swallow noticeably and break eye contact with him, his green eyes darting up and down my face, gauging my reaction. He's too gorgeous right now. His forehead glistens with sweat, matting down a few stray pieces of hair that aren't held back by his headband and his hands start to kneed into my lower back, pulling me a bit closer.

My breathing pauses and I glance at Perrie in my peripheral vision. She looks at us cautiously, seeing what we're doing and where Harry's going with all this, and I don't miss the sly smirk she carries. I don't miss all the smirks and giggles coming from everyone in the room as they realize what Harry did.

Did he do it accidentally?

Did he really mean to say he wanted me?

I can't imagine someone like Harry being all that interested in someone like me. A crush maybe, but not truly wanting me. There's no way. Harry's so perfect in every shape and form. He's so warm and kind and selfless and amazing at everything he does. And he's artistic and creative and really, really messy, but in a way that just suits him and I can never come to tell his pretty face that he should clean more. And I can't imagine this rock band-loving, giant teddy bear (slash giraffe), horrible cook of a man wanting to be with me.

When he told me a couple weeks ago that he liked me, I was flattered of course, and oh so happy, but I figured it was more-so in a 'I want to get in your pants because you have a nice face' kind of way, not a 'I want to call you my girlfriend and bang you multiple times'.

But before I have any more time to comprehend and over think what he's saying, he pulls my hand, running into the kitchen.

He stops abruptly once we are secluded, causing me to slam into his back, but neither of us seem to mind as he mutters "Fuck it." and leans down to smash his lips into mine. For a solid 2 and a half seconds I stand there completely paralyzed, so confused as to what's happening and what he's doing because again, this is Harry. Harry this innocent, fucking adorable guy who, for some reason, is attracted to me. Wants me. 

My back straightens up and my head lifts to meet his as I accommodate to his height. His hand grabs the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my knotted hair as his lips part from mine, only to shift our heads to the side before they meet again. My hands somehow find their way to the nape of his neck, playing with the baby hairs there, too scared to actually run my fingers through it.

Our breathing gets heavier and more labored as the seconds tick on, finding ourselves pressed against each other, Harry delicately pushing the hair our of my face every time it decided to fall down.

I'm first to pull away. I turn my head so I can breathe steady and he rests his forehead onto mine.

"Sorry." He murmurs, sounding so small and delicate, like he's genuinely apologizing as if I didn't enjoy what just happened.

"For what?" I ask, giggling almost.

"Coming onto you like that. I dunno--I just should have asked or something--like, I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." He stutters, boldly smirking.

His pupils are blown wide and his face is flushed and noticeably pink even in the dim kitchen. He pushes his hair back and takes a deep breath, biting his already swollen lips and avoiding eye contact with me. I can tell that the cut on his lip from falling earlier has opened up again and started bleeding from all the movement.

"You're not sorry." I giggle, wipping at his lip.

"I'm. . ." He glances at me and then quickly ducks his head down nervously. "--yeah, I'm really not. That was the best thing that's happened since sliced bread."