𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒! | harry styles

𝐗𝐈𝐈

"WE should go inside, April. You're probably freezing."

Freezing? Right. I probably should be freezing, but frankly, the world could crumble around me and I doubt I'd notice. I'm too preoccupied with everything that's happened – with everything I want to say – to take notice of trivial things like frostbite and hypothermia right now.

"Um…yeah. Right. Sure." What a brilliant conversationalist I've become. I wouldn't be surprised if Harry is only inviting me inside out of pity.

Dear God, please don't let him be inviting me inside out of pity…

But he smiles and puts his hand on my back, guiding me up the steps. I rub my arms to create warmth while he unlocks his door, and then I'm ushered into his house. The draft that's created as Harry follows me inside causes a shiver to run down my spine.

"Hold on, I'll turn on the heat," Harry says quickly, moving past me. "Sorry, I haven't been home all day." He fiddles with his thermostat while I shrug.

"It's fine."

"It shouldn't take long to heat up," he goes on, returning to me. He kicks his grassy shoes off, so I go the same. "Do you want a jacket?"

My shirt suddenly feels like it's frozen to my body, but it doesn't bother me. Nothing matters except Harry's gaze. His words. The way he's now standing only inches from me, and if I leaned forward on my toes I could easily kiss him.

But I don't. I'm terrified. Nervous.

But why should I be? He's everything I want, right?

He pushes my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. His fingertips are like ice, yet they melt me from the inside out, defrosting any resolve I had left. I'm done trying to fight this.

"Sorry we kicked your ass at the baseball game earlier," he says suddenly, and my eyes widen in surprise. His own eyes are shining with mischief. "I warned you it would happen, though."

I punch him in the stomach. Not hard, but enough to make him double over defensively, one arm instantly shooting out to protect his stupid gut.

"Don't make me kick your ass now," I threaten him, but this was clearly the wrong thing to say – still doubled over, he suddenly attacks, grabbing me around the legs and hoisting me so far over his shoulder that I'm practically hanging upside down. I swear I'm going to fall, and I'm certainly screaming like a maniac, but it doesn't escape my notice that his ass is now right in my face. Like, right there. It's all I can see and honestly all I think about for those precarious thirty seconds; even my life, which is clearly in jeopardy, takes second-place in this new shrine my mind has created for his tush.

"What'd you say, April?" Harry taunts me. "You're going to kick whose ass?"

He pretends to drop me and I nearly crap my pants in fright. Fuck it, if I'm going to die, I'm gonna make it worth it.

So I grab his ass.

This isn't a casual ass-grab. It couldn't even be considered friendly. It's aggressive. Angry, even. It portrays the wrath of all my pent-up sexual frustration from months past, and I squeeze like my life depends on it, still screaming my head off all the while.

I think I take Harry by surprise. It's kind of hard to tell, seeing as how I can't see his face. But he quickly stops taunting me and, with nauseating speed, I'm flipped through the air and land with a grunt on his couch.

The world spins for a second, and then Harry's face is in front of my own.

"So instead of kicking my ass, were you trying to rip it off?" he asks me seriously.