~Cassidy~

“I—I don’t know if I can do this.”

Ugh, way to fucking go, Cassidy.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that Harry wouldn’t throw me out of his house. The couch shifted again, and I braced myself for the worst—for a lot of yelling and screaming and demands to get out.

Just then, two abnormally large hands pressed into the fabric of the couch beside me. I let out a sharp and audible gasp, not used to being this close to anyone. My head snapped up, my eyes wide, only to find Harry staring intently at me.

“Stop,” he said simply, and I didn’t have to ask him what he was referring to.

I bit my lip nervously, wishing that he wasn’t so close, his scent filling my nose and distorting my morals. Why had I agreed to come over again? This was killing me, wanting to be here, but I knew that I couldn’t, I wasn’t allowed.

“No,” I managed to get out, shaking my head slightly. I stared into his frosty green eyes before letting my gaze drop down to his lips. I tried to bring it back up right away, but he’d noticed and smiled cheekily at me.

“Do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?” he inquired. His tone wasn’t teasing; it was simply curious, and I was grateful that he wasn’t mocking me, only wanting to know my thoughts.

“Mm…maybe,” I swallowed as I said the words, and he laughed. I liked his laugh. It was a rich yet raspy sound, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He exposed his perfect, straight white teeth, and his whole body shook with the action.

Right now he was standing over me, bent down so that our faces were at the same level, and I wanted more than anything to pull him down and kiss him right now.

“So can I kiss you?” he asked, his lips curving up in a good-natured smirk. I wanted him to; God, I wanted him to, but I shook my head.

“I need to talk to you,” I told him quietly, and he just nodded, shifting and sitting back down on the couch beside me. This time, I turned towards him, so that we were facing each other, and played with the hem of my shirt.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said, clearing my throat. Immediately his brows furrowed and I closed my eyes briefly before they fluttered open again to marvel at his face, his defined jaw, the tattoos peeking out of his shirt on his arms and chest.

“I mean—,” I sighed, “It’s so wrong. Don’t you see that? We shouldn’t be doing this, I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t want you to kiss me, yet it’s all happening. It’s fucking scary, okay?”

“You think I don’t know that?” Harry was quick to respond, not having any hesitation. His eyes were incensed, passionate about this discussion. A small part of me felt warmth rush through my body when he tried to defend…whatever this was, but another part wished that he wasn’t being so difficult. It would be so much easier to turn away from this entire situation if I knew that he also felt guilty about it, but the truth was: he didn’t feel guilty. Not one bit.

And that made it even harder for me to say no, because I was lying to not only myself, but also to him.

“Fuck, Cassidy,” he tugged on the roots of his hair, making me look away; the sight was pleasing to look at, most definitely, but I would get very off track.

Fuck.

“You think I don’t know that this is bad?” he questioned, a muscle in his jaw twitching, “It makes me such a horrible person, doing this. But I’ve already told you that I can’t stand this anymore. I loved kissing you, okay? It was—God, I can’t even describe it. But I want this,” he inhaled sharply, “I want to kiss you again. And it scares me so much.”

There was silence, until I brought my gaze back up to him, “Why?”

“Why what?” he asked tiredly, looking exhausted from his short little rant.

“Why does it scare you?”

He then cracked a small smile, bringing his legs up to the couch and shifting closer to me. His hand came up to my face, and I stiffened, making him chuckle lightly. His thumb began to stroke my cheek idly before dropping lower, tracing the outline of my plump bottom lip.

“Because,” he mumbled, his eyes sparkling. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to mine, his hot breath wafting against my face and into my nose, setting my senses into a tumultuous turmoil, unable to grasp what was real and what was a fantasy.

“Because,” he repeated, “Whenever I get close to you, I just—”

To finish off his sentence, he pressed his mouth to mine softly. He didn’t try to pry my lips open, just enjoying having them pressed together.

I would be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy it either. It was exactly like the last time; my body seemed to jolt, to finally come alive, thousands of sensations swirling together in the pit of my stomach, some good, and some bad. The feelings of guilt were pushed to the back of my mind, tucked into a little box and shoved in a corner, where they belonged.

His left hand lifted my chin up, his right hand resting on my knee, his fingers drawing small circles on my leg, making my body fight a small tremor of pleasure. The kiss only lasted about three seconds, but it seemed like an eternity.

He began to pull back, but not before parting his lips slightly and nipping down on my bottom lip, stretching and tugging at it as he retreated from the heavenly action.

He gave me a lopsided smirk and finally released my lip, before smiling satisfactorily and settling back into his previous, lazy position, his thumb stroking my cheek once more.

“I’ve wanted to do that all week, you know,” he notified me in a sigh, and I bit the inside of my cheek as I gave him a small smile.

Slowly though, the euphoria of the kiss wore off, and the guilt and common sense came rushing back to me, my mouth curving down in a frown. I tugged at the ends of my hair.

“You can’t do that,” I said in a distressed voice.

“Do what?” he probed. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to snap at him, even though a small part of me was telling my brain that I hated him; I hated him with a deep passion, yet I was letting him do all these things to me.

But I couldn’t find it in myself to confirm that anymore. Maybe I didn’t hate him after all.

“This,” I pinched the bridge of my nose and took short, choppy breaths, “You can’t just kiss me whenever I’m having doubts. That’s not how it works, Styles.”

In all honesty, I enjoyed the kisses—a lot—but I was trying to have a serious conversation here, and he was just so distracting, even when he wasn’t trying to be. When he was, all of my hope of resisting him could just go fuck itself.

“I wasn’t trying to do anything of the sort,” he defended, and I had a feeling that the fiery determination was once again present in his orbs, even though my eyes were closed.

“Cassidy,” he said sternly, reaching for my hand, but as soon as his skin touched mine, an electric shock jerked my body and I quickly drew away from him. I opened my eyes, only to find that he was close to me again, our faces only a foot apart.

“I can’t tell you what to feel,” he said, reaching for my hand again, and this time, I didn’t stop him. He smiled gently, not large enough to be a grin, but not small enough to be a smirk either. His fingers laced through mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles lightly, making my brain power halt.

Damn him and his thumbs that know exactly where to caress. Having someone stroke my face or my hands has always been a giant turn-on for me, and this definitely wasn’t helping my concentration and my will to resist him.

“I need to think about this,” I breathed when he moved his face in closer, no doubt to kiss me again. I would’ve gladly welcomed his lips, but my fucking mouth and common sense always had to ruin everything.

He froze, and there was a beat of silence.

I stared into his eyes, until finally, he pursed his lips and nodded, “Okay,” he whispered, and then shot me a look, his eyes shining, “Are you done thinking?” he mused, and I laughed quietly.

“Harry,” I accused in a chuckle, and he sniggered lightly.

“I’m just teasing,” he told me, and then began to retreat away from me. Quicker than I would’ve thought, I lashed out, my hand wrapping around his left bicep. My eyes widened when I felt the muscle flex under his skin, and I swallowed heavily.

He cocked an eyebrow teasingly, knowing what I was asking for. Sure, I needed to think about things, but I also needed a reason to remind me why I would want to do this—whatever this was.

“One more time,” I pleaded, and he beamed at me, leaning back down. I expected him to just do it, but instead he didn’t stop moving, forcing me to fall back down onto the couch, my back meeting the soft fabric. He placed his hands on either side of my head and hovered over me, leaning down and kissing me for the last time.

This is the last time, I told myself as his lips touched mine. The kiss was still gentle, but it now had a bit of a rough edge to it. I wrapped my arms around his neck, tugging on the hairs at the back of his head, and he made a noise that sounded very much like a moan into my mouth. I tensed; I’d never made a man make that noise before, and the feeling was new.

The last time, I repeated as he pulled back, moving his lips to the side and peppering kisses along my cheek. His mouth dipped lower, so that he was kissing my jaw, and I gasped lightly. I could feel his body quake with a small chuckle as he trailed even lower, kissing up and down the column of my neck.

I raked my left hand through his hair, gripping it so hard I thought that I would tear it out, needing something to anchor me to reality and not to get lost in this bliss.

If you had told me six weeks ago that I would be letting Harry fucking Styles kiss down my neck today, I probably would’ve laughed at your stupidity, flipped you the finger, or most likely simply punched you in the face. I couldn’t help but to marvel at how quickly my emotions towards him had changed. One minute I hated him, and the next, I was asking him to kiss me.

I really am bipolar.

Last time, I thought, closing my eyes as he nipped at my neck, sucking lightly on the spot right below my jawline, making me sigh. I immediately bit my lip embarrassedly, but he didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he made no comment.

He moved back up to press one last kiss to my lips and finally stopped. We were both breathing heavily, and I looked up at him, only to find that he was wearing a happy smirk.

I couldn’t help but to smile back up at him, and then I realised that he was still hovering on top of me.

“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat awkwardly as he acknowledged this too, “Sorry.”

He climbed off of me slowly, and I suddenly felt cold. Together we stood, and I ran a hand through my hair, “I should probably go. You know—I’m supposed to be at the Jansens’ and all.”

“Yeah,” he looked down at the ground, his smile disappearing. I pursed my lips, “I’ll see you later?”

The question seemed to make him brighten, because he brought his face back up and smiled at me, “Definitely,” he confirmed, “Let me walk you out.”

We exited the living room and walked down the hallways to the front entrance. We weren’t holding hands, but often, our shoulders would brush. I cleared my throat as I slipped on my flip flops and turned to him as he opened the door for me.

“Bye,” I said quietly, stepping out. He smiled at me, and ran his fingers through his hair, rumpling and tousling it.

“Goodbye, Cassidy,” he told me with a grin, and I turned around, padding down the steps. As I crossed the lawn, I couldn’t help but to risk a glance back, only to find that he was watching me with an amused smirk on his face. I whipped back around quickly, scratching the back of my neck sheepishly.

But even then, I couldn’t resist the smile that found its way onto my face.

Notes

Yay, so they're kissing :) Progress, people, progress..

Keep voting! All subscribers please vote! And comment! I love to read your comments and I'm extremely grateful for the people that take few seconds out of their day to write down lovely things! I love you guys.

Random fact: More than 1,800 medals are awarded at the Olympics.

VOTE, COMMENT and SUBSCRIBE!

~I can't even describe how grateful I am for you guys~