Cliché || H.S.

Chapter 15

My bedroom is flooded with sunlight when I open my eyes, and I can't believe that the sun was up before me this morning. I moved away from Harry in my sleep, but I feel the weight of his hand on my back, a reminder that he's still there. I can hear his rhythmic breathing behind me, slow and even. I turn from my stomach to my side to look at him.

His face is completely relaxed, he looks so young like this. I've never realized how long his eyelashes are, brushing against the under part of his eyes. Why do boys always get the long eyelashes? I draw my hand from underneath the covers and run my thumb across the top of his cheek bone. I could lay like this forever, memorizing the lines of his face.

"Why are you staring at me," his raspy voice catches me off guard and I immediately snatch my hand away from his face.

"What? I'm still sleeping, I couldn't possibly be staring," I tuck the comforter up under my chin and close my eyes tight. Harry pulls the comforter from my face and rolls on top of me, smothering me under his weight.

"Nice try," he lays his head face down on the pillow next to me and wraps his muscular arms underneath my back.

"Harry I can't breathe," I gasp out the words for dramatic effect and I can feel him laugh against me.

"I'm not sure... this is quite comfortable. I think I'll stay like this a bit longer," he tightens his grip on me and moves his head into the crook of my neck. I decide to embrace it and wrap my arms around his back like a hug. His weight is relaxing for a moment, but I'm soon flooded with questions that still remain unanswered.

"What does all of this mean? For work?" I ask him softly. I hate that I'm thinking about work in this position, but it's what brought us together in the first place.

"What do you mean? Like do we tell people on set?" He asks, his eyes closed. He looks like he's on the verge of falling back asleep.

"I hadn't thought about that actually... I don't think I care if people on set know if you don't. I just mean about all of this stupid publicity stuff. Do we still do stuff only for cameras? Are we only really together behind closed doors? This is all new territory," I explain.

Harry lifts himself off of me and rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He looks down at me for a moment before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "I think that we forget the publicity stuff was ever a thing. It's already out there that we're dating even if we weren't, so we have nothing to hide. We can go out in public together, post that we're together whenever we want to. It'll be like we're normal people dating."

I like the idea, us just being normal people dating. I know that will never be the truth, but it almost is. We don't have to hide it from the public, and there's also the reassurance that we're not using each other for a moment in the limelight. We can just be us.... just with a couple million people invested in our every move.

"What are you doing today?" He asks, his hand brushing hairs off of my forehead.

"I have my final fitting for the Met Gala at the house in about," I pick up my phone to check the time, "an hour."

"Who are you wearing?" He raises his eyebrows like this is some sort of test. Everyone knows he's the king of Gucci and if I had to guess that's who he's hoping for.

"Versace." I try to sound as standoffish as possible, like I'm superior for this. In reality it doesn't really matter who you're wearing. Everyone is going to look magnificent, and the only difference it makes is who you're seated with for dinner.

Harry sits up straight and gasps dramatically, "you traitor!" He grabs the nearest pillow and throws it so it lands on my face, "I can't even look at you."