Vice [h.s]

Five

Tatum's POV

I feel the sun shining through the sheer curtains along my bedroom window, the warmth waking me up. I open my eyes slowly as they adjust to the brightness of the room.

I feel like hell. My head is throbbing slightly and my mouth is dry. I can't remember how many drinks I had last night but I know it was a few too many. I am laying on my side and as I start to sit up in bed I am weighed down by something on my waist. What the fuck?

I push the comforter down and see a tattooed arm draped across my waist and a hand resting next to me on the bed. I recognize the cross tattoo next to his thumb immediately. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. A shudder goes down my spine as I slowly sit up, bringing the sheet with me to cover my bare body, and shift to my left.

Harry lays on his stomach, his head on the pillow and facing me, sound asleep. The sheet covers up to the bottom of his shoulder blades and his inked arms spread out across my white sheets. I can't deny the fact that he's beautiful. But what the fuck.

I pick up his arm and lay it on the pillow beside me. I stand up out of bed, bringing the sheet with me and pulling it off of the bed to keep my body covered.

"Shit!" I accidentally whisper as I see his bare ass spread out across the mattress.

I quickly grab a pillow from the end of the bed and throw it over his waist, concealing him from my eyes. Almost immediately he shoots up off of the mattress in a panic, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes squinted. The jolt of his body causes him to lean to the side and suddenly he unintentionally rolls off of the bed. I quickly cover my eyes, not wanting to see him exposed any more than I already have.

"What the fuck," he groans at the sudden impact.

I quickly take this opportunity to quietly run to the bathroom, the sheet still wrapped around my body. I let out a staggering sigh as I lock the door behind me.

What. In. The. Fuck. Happened. Last. Night.

I remember we were drinking and having a good time but as much as I am trying to force myself to recollect details from later in the night, I can't remember anything. I look at myself in the mirror, noticing the slightly smudged mascara under my eyes and my messy hair. I look like hell.

I let the sheet fall from my body and fix my hair as much as I can, before turning the water on and splashing some on my face, rubbing the smudged makeup off. I reach into the medicine cabinet and take a few advil, trying to numb the ache in the front of my head.

"Tatum?" I hear a faint knock and that familiar British accent.

I ignore the sound, knowing I am protected by the locked door. I continue freshening up, quickening my pace.

"T..."

I don't respond.

"Tatum! Open the door," he shouts with one hard bang on the door, causing me to jump slightly and drop the brush in my hand.

I ignore him again, rushing to finish cleaning up. I need to get ready as fast as possible and get the hell out of here. I hear the doorknob start to shake. He's probably trying to come in so good thing I locked the door. I start to put my hair up into a ponytail and I hear the lock click. What the fuck?

The door begins to open quickly and I rush to grab the sheet, covering as much of my body as possible. He stands with one hand on the door and another holding the pillow from earlier, using it to cover himself. Jesus Christ. His hair is partially pushed up off of his forehead and he looks like he's just seen a ghost.

"Jesus fuck Harry, what is your problem?" I ask, anger spewing out in my tone.

"What's my problem? What's wrong with you, you just ran out of the room!" He bites back, raising his voice again.