~Cassidy~

I blinked a few times as the sunlight streamed through the window, feeling slightly cold. Waiting a few minutes, I let my senses kick in again, hoping that they’d help me to distinguish the setting of where I was.

My eyesight sharpened, a bold red colour jumping out at me. I smelled spearmint. I could feel the covers of the bed draping over me, blanketing my waist and bottom half. There was the sound of water running, so I could only assume that it was the shower.

Wait, shower?

I sat up abruptly, the duvet of the bed falling and curling around my hips. The blanket was black, the walls were indeed red. There was a matching dresser and nightstand—both black as well—and a door leading off into the bathroom.

I felt cold, and looked down at my body, my eyes bugging out of my head when I saw that I was only wearing my green pajama shorts and my white bra.

And then it hit me like a brick.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, my heartbeat accelerating.

I tried to calm down, remembering everything that had happened last night. I thought it was a dream. Unable to understand what the hell had gotten into me, I fell back down on the bed, curling up into a fetus position and thinking, trying to remember everything.

A small part of me felt disgusted with myself. I wasn’t some cheap whore that threw herself at guys and just let them have their way with her. But last night, it seemed as though I’d been that person, allowing Harry to see a part of my body that I’d never shown anyone before. I’d let him touch me, and I couldn’t help but to feel slightly contaminated, I couldn’t help but to believe I’d betrayed myself somehow.

But a bigger part of me—a much bigger part—felt glorious.

I couldn’t deny the feelings that had swept through my body. It was a rush, it had been exhilarating, and I had found myself trusting Harry—a little more than I would’ve liked. He’d been sweet, always hesitating, not wanting to push me too far. And he’d just kept repeating over and over how beautiful he thought I was and how much he loved me.

And I couldn’t deny that I felt something for him too. It was slow, so, so slow, but the feeling had surfaced, something deeper than just a petty crush, just a mutual attraction. I hated how quickly things were escalating, but at the same time, I wanted to blurt out everything I was thinking about him, tell him how I felt, tell him all of my worries, everything.

Suddenly, I realised that it was silent. Perking my ears, I no longer heard the sound of the shower. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and then opened them again, wondering if I was just hallucinating.

Suddenly, the bed dipped and I felt a presence hovering over me. My eyelids snapped open and I turned onto my back, only to find Harry cheekily grinning down on me.

“Good morning, love,” he told me, his voice slightly raspy, making my stomach clench involuntarily.

“G-Good morning,” I stuttered, gazing up at him.

He wore only boxers, his bare legs brushing up against mine, his leg hair tickling me slightly. My breasts were skimming his chest, my bra being the only strip of clothing separating us at the moment.

His torso was slightly damp, little droplets of water still visible on his face and in his hair.

He leaned down ever closer to me, and I couldn’t help but to laugh lightly, “Harry, you’re making me wet.”

“Am I now?” he asked flirtatiously, and I gasped at his suggestiveness. My left hand came up to smack the side of his head, and I was pretty sure that my cheeks were flaming, “Not like that, you pig!”

He just laughed and shook his head, sending water flying onto my face. I gagged dramatically, making him laugh again, and he bent his head, pressing a light kiss to my cheek. My brow furrowed lightly when I felt a small bit of stubble scrape against my skin.

“When was the last time you shaved?” I asked him when he pulled back. He just bit his lip—smiling coyly—and shrugged. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

And then there was silence. I stared up at him, just marvelling at how beautiful his light eyes were, how they reminded me of a green, minty colour. My bottom lip was taken between my teeth as I studied him, taking him all in. His right hand came out of nowhere and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“You’re regretting it, aren’t you?” he asked me softly, his eyes sad.

For a moment I was taken aback, wondering what the hell he was talking about, before I realised that he was referring to last night. My eyes widened, and I shook my head, my hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. My left hand ran through his wet hair, fingers tracing along his scalp soothingly.

“No,” I whispered, “Of course not.”

It wasn’t a lie. I didn’t regret it one bit.

I was just worried, I guess: worried that we were going too fast, worried that he’d realise that I wasn’t worth his time, worried that he’d hate me for having no experience and not knowing what the fuck I was doing.

“I could never hate you,” he told me quietly, his eyes ablaze, and it was only then that I realised I’d voiced my thoughts. I noticed that it was a hell of a lot easier when I didn’t focus on anything I was saying.

“It’s just—,” great, I was tongue-tied again, “I can’t help but to feel hypocritical. A month ago, I hated you, and now I’m in love with you, and just feel as though I’m betraying myself…does that even make sense?”

I looked up at him, hoping that he would nod and tell me that it was completely normal to feel like that. But he was silent, his lips slightly parted, body completely tense and still, eyes wide. My brow immediately creased in worry, my hand coming up to stroke his hair again—I’d learned that it relaxed him, but it also made me feel oddly calm as well. I didn’t know why.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, confused as to why he was like a statue all of a sudden.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Finally, he cleared his throat, “You—you…”

Immediately my hand flew to my mouth, “Fuck…it’s morning breath, isn’t it? Dammit, I should’ve brushed my—”

“No!” he practically yelled, and my eyes widened at how weird he’d suddenly turned. “Harry,” I said, becoming slightly aggravated now, “What the fuck is it?”

As a response, he bent down, attacking my lips with his. I reciprocated immediately, wrapping my arms around his neck quickly, unable to get enough of the taste of his mouth. All of my previous worrying about him was pushed to the back of my mind, the sensation of his lips taking over.

He pulled back, resting his forehead on mine, his eyes still wide, calculating, like they were trying to assess something.

“You—,” he breathed, “You love me.”

I blinked once, trying to see if he’d really actually said that. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I said slowly, cautiously, “No, Harry, I don’t.”

“Yes you do!” he urged me, a smile growing on his face, “You do! You said it! Oh my God,” he laughed, closing his eyes briefly before they snapped back open; “You love me, Cassidy.”

“I didn’t say it,” I shook my head slightly, frowning lightly and trying to remember if I’d said anything along those lines, “I didn’t, I would know.”

“You did,” he told me, full-on grinning now, “You said, ‘a month ago, I hated you, and now I’m in love with you.’ You said it; you love me, baby.”

“‘Baby’?” I questioned now, my eyes widening and how quickly things were happening.

I was overwhelmed, one phenomenon presenting itself right after the other, giving me no time to think. I was scared, and I was pretty sure my eyes were flickering back and forth, trying to remember things and trying to figure out what this all meant, what I was supposed to do, and if Harry was even telling the truth or not.

I didn’t say I loved him, did I?

You did.

I did.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, my eyes widening, like it had just dawned on me for the first time, “Harry, I love you.”

“Shit,” he breathed, and he ducked down, burying his head into the crook of my neck, his arms wrapping around my waist tightly.

I didn’t ever want him to let me go. I held onto him tightly, one hand on the nape of his neck, the other frantically stroking his hair, pushing his face farther into my throat. I felt him sponging little kisses on my skin, making an irrepressible shudder rack through my body.

I loved him. I loved him. It was so surreal, so fast, so rushed, but I loved him. Suddenly, my mind was clear, free of any negative thoughts, of any careful thoughts, telling me to just take the plunge and love him. I wanted to love him. I wanted to, and now that I’d voiced it, it seemed so much easier to think about.

“I’ve wanted you to love me since I first laid eyes on you,” he whispered into my neck, and I couldn’t help but to laugh breathily at his cheesiness.

“I love you,” I repeated again, my eyes blinking furiously, like if I said it enough times I would finally realise how true it actually was.

“My God,” he breathed, his hot breath tickling my skin, contrasting deeply with the cool silver of his cross chain, wedged in between our bodies.

His damp hair wet my collarbone, my throat, my chin, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I felt him smile, and I couldn’t help but to laugh. His body was draped across mine, and he grabbed both of my hands in both of his, intertwining our fingers and bringing them above my head.

Pulling out of his little burrow in my neck, he pressed a kiss to my lips, retracting quickly, making my mouth curve down in a frown and meriting a small chuckle from him. He kissed my cheek, my chin, down my throat, my collarbone, and proceeded lower, pressing small, sprinkling kisses to the swell of my breasts; I shivered.

He pressed a long, lingering kiss to the spot where my heart was beating furiously, about to burst out of my chest. Looking up at me through hooded eyes, he puckered his lips and planted a slow, sensual kiss on the valley between my breasts, making me close my eyes softly. I tugged on his hair lightly, and he came back up, looking at me.

“Kiss me, please,” I said quietly, hoping that he would.

He nodded, moistening his lips and pressing them to mine again. Our mouths immediately opened, tongues gliding along each other effortlessly, hands everywhere. I was trying to feel every part of him against me, trying to touch him everywhere; my hands lingering briefly in one spot before moving onto the other.

“Say it again,” he whispered against my lips, his hot breath puffing out. The corners of my mouth curved up into the smallest of smirks.

Our lips brushed as I leaned my head up slightly and whispered, “I love you, Harry.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his nose scrunching up slightly as he breathed raggedly. I giggled lightly and nuzzled my nose against his, something that I found myself doing reflexively, on impulse. His eyes flashed open again and he smiled boyishly at me, exposing his teeth and his dimples.

“I love you, Cassidy,” he replied in a sigh, making me chuckle.

I kissed his bare shoulder, humming breathlessly and burying my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the deep scent of man and spearmint. He rolled off of me, falling onto the bed to my left, and pulled me into his chest, his hand snaking down to my thigh, grabbing it, and pulling it over his hip.

Our legs brushed together, making tingles run down my spine; the slight stubble on his jaw tickled my shoulder as he ducked down, running his lips along the curve of my bone.

His hands set me on fire, doodling imaginary tattoos on the skin of my back, fingertips running up and down the knobs of my spine, palms slipping under the straps of my bra and encouraging multiple shudders.

“You hungry?” he rasped, breaking the silence that had been present for the past few minutes.

“Mm,” I merely hummed, and I felt his body quiver with a short chuckle.

“Do you want breakfast?” he asked me, and my fingers came up to twirl the small curls on the nape of his neck, smiling softly, “Sure. But can we just stay here for a little bit longer?”

“Of course, baby,” he breathed, skimming his nose up and down my neck, making me snicker nervously.

I sighed and closed my eyes.

“I love you.”

Notes

I feel like this was crap :/

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