Scrabble | Harry Styles

19

I squinted my eyes a mere second after I opened them, white sunlight piercing into my line of vision. I blinked a couple of times, shifting onto my back and adjusting my eyes before realisation sank into my veins, and the events of last night came flooding back into my mind - the dance, Vic, Louis.. Harry.

"Hello, you," the low, familiar voice  sounded beside me, and I turned to face him; he was sat up straight, glancing down at me. A grin spread onto my face.

"Hi," I returned, moving to sit up and wincing silently as I felt a slight ache in my lower abdomen and a little pain directly between my legs. I bit my lip to stifle my reaction, but Harry caught my expression and extended his arm to cup my face in his hand.

"You alright?" he asked, rolling the pad of his thumb over my cheek. I nodded sincerely, sending him a soft smile. The events of last night flashed through my mind, bringing heat to my cheeks as I silently recalled how it had been to be with Harry like that - I'd given him something I'd never be able to give anybody else, and I'd never forget it. He'd been so gentle; so loving - squeezing my hand and kissing my knuckles when he sensed my nerves, murmuring diligent reassurances into my ear when I'd hissed in the slight unavoidable pain.

"Good." He leant over, curling his palm around my head to bring it towards his own, pressing a kiss to my temple. I shuffled closer to him, watching a smile pull on his lips before I kissed his shoulder blade lightly, before resting my chin on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" I asked, peering down at his lap, noticing a familiar board and wooden pieces. I laughed quietly, "You're playing Scrabble by yourself?" I bit back a smile, suddenly transported back to New Year's Eve, when I'd met Harry for the first time and caught him doing the very same thing. I liked looking back on it - thinking back to how I'd felt at that time, without a clue where I'd be with Harry a month and a half later.

"I play a mean game," he mumbled in playful defence, as I pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. I was clad in one of his t-shirts as I watched him lay out some letters onto the board, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, even without an opponent to face.

"I beat you.. not even a few days ago," I pointed out, as he tilted his head to meet my eyes, squinting at me.

"You most certainly did not," he sent me a trademark smirk, turning to nudge his nose against my own, "I always win.." his voice lowered, bringing a flush to my cheeks, "because I have you."

Our lips connected, gently and lovingly, with no intention behind it - just a warm, unitive movement - and I was certain I'd never been happier.

I think in the back of my mind, I must have had my suspicions of who he really was. I must have. How could I ignore what Vic had said? Even though, then, I was sure the facts I ruled as coincidences, and Vic's determination to make me understand her view had been pushed from my head - it hadn't been. It was in there, truly - but I was far too preoccupied, and maybe subconsciously defiant to acknowledge such. To me; in my mind, he couldn't do a thing wrong.

Harry had become my happy place.

"I feel, slightly," he paused, breaking our kiss, his forehead pressed to my own, "like I should take you home. Reluctantly." His hand fell to my bare thigh, as I sighed in quiet acknowledgement that he was right. I didn't want to break out of our little bubble of content just yet. 

My hand shifted to the side of his face, my fingertips grazing his hair as he leant his cheek into my hand, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. I gazed in admiration at the sight of his face in such close proximity; his skin with a beautiful, golden glow; his long eyelashes brushing over the heights of his cheekbones, those very cheekbones sharp and defined, much like the line of his jaw. He looked almost angelic, his face erased of much expression as he seemed to revel in the moment with as much serenity as I did.