habits of my heart (h.s.)

twenty-eight

When I tiptoed back into Harry's room the next morning, two mugs of coffee in my hand, he was already awake. His back was slouched up against a pillow, and the expression on his face softened when he noticed me. "Alyson."

I set the mugs down on the bedside table and wrapped my arms around my shirt, suddenly nervous. "Good morning."

"I thought you left," he said. "I woke up and you weren't there."

I swallowed and pointed to the mugs. "I made coffee. I hope it doesn't taste like shit."

Harry stared at me for a minute, before murmuring, "Come here."

I did. I was expecting to just sit beside him, but to my surprise, he pulled me onto his lap. My breath hitched in my throat at his close proximity, and he didn't do much to help matters when he kissed the skin right below my ear. 

"You look so pretty in the morning," he hummed, and I shivered at the raspiness of his voice. "You're always so pretty."

I blushed. "Harry--"

"I like when you blush," he continued. "I like you, Alyson. So much."

A smile broke out across my face, and I tried not to sound too giddy when I said, "I like you too."

"I know that we agreed on being just friends," Harry said. "And if that's all you want to be, then I'll live with it. But you should know that I do--"

I cut him off by pressing my mouth against his. He kissed me back immediately, and once we pulled away, I whispered, "I don't want to be your friend anymore. Or just your roommate. I want to...label things." Please don't say no. Please, please don't say no.

This time, Harry didn't hesitate. He nodded his head before bringing my knuckles to his mouth. "My girlfriend, Dr. Davis. I like the sound of that."

I was grinning like an idiot at that point, but I didn't even care. Harry was my boyfriend. My boyfriend. I was about to test out the new term out loud, but before I had the chance to, the door swung open. 

Niall's eyes were wide with disbelief, and it was clear he had no idea where to look. To be fair, he had many options--Harry's mouth pressed against my hands, my T-shirt riding up around my thighs, exposing my lacy black underwear, the fact that I was literally sitting in Harry's lap.

"What the hell is going on?" he exclaimed. "Aly, why are you--Harry, what are you..." He blinked rapidly multiple times, clearly trying to check if he was dreaming or not. "I...Nice underwear, Aly."

"Fuck off, you perv," Harry scoffed, pulling my T-shirt further down my thighs before I had the chance to. His hands stayed resting on my thighs, and I awkwardly sat there on his lap, waiting for Niall's response.

"You know, usually I would say that if anything you're the perv, but clearly that's not what's going on here," Niall said, a grin inching up the corners of his lips. "Are you two putting it in each other?" When he noticed the dubious expression on my face, he corrected himself, "Are you fucking?"

Harry was scowling at him, and I poked him in the side, which helped ease the expression on his face. Before he could shoot something snarky at Niall, I interjected, "We're not fucking, Niall. I mean...technically, we are. Well, we haven't in a while, but...I think we're going to soon."

This time, it was Harry's turn to poke me. "We will," he murmured lowly in my ear.

"Oi, I'm literally right here!" Niall shouted. "Save the dirty talk for later, Styles."

"Niall, if you don't--"

"We're dating," I interrupted. "I'm his girlfriend, he's my boyfriend, you know, all that jazz."