cherry (h.s)

forty five

this chapter is a little shorter, but this will be a double update so hopefully that makes up for it!

Charlotte Thompson

I woke up alone, instantly making myself question where Harry was. The light in the bedroom was off, the only source of light was the television, which was on mute but still on. I sit up and gently rub my eyes, realizing that I'm still in my red bathing suit and shorts but I was wrapped up in one of Harry's warm sweaters. I was in the middle of the king sized bed, sprawled out under a blanket.

I don't even remember coming back to the suite from last night.

Actually, I barely remember last night at all...

I faintly remember Harry fighting that one guy because he was defending me, and I remember his girlfriend slapping me.

In thought of that, I bring my hand to my cheek and immediately become aware of the sting she left behind on my face.

My phone was in my back pocket, and I take it out to check the time. It was only past seven in the morning. I quickly turn my screen off because the brightness was severely hurting my slightly hungover eyes.

Where's Harry?

I slide off the rich sheets and take myself across the dark bedroom, opening the door quietly and walking out. The set up of this suite had the bedroom and bathroom on the top level, and the seating room and kitchen down below. I could see a bit of light coming from downstairs.

It was quiet, the only sound that could be heard was the patting of my bare feet on the fancy hardwood floor.

I look over the railing that overlooked the lower level, and then my eyes land on him—he was passed out on the couch, his feet up on the glass table and his head back against the headrest. His arms were crossed over his stomach and his curls hung over his forehead.

I walk down the steps, confused about why he had slept down here. He didn't even look very comfortable. He had a bandage across his nose now, so I'm guessing he tried to fix himself up after he brought us back from the party.

As I approach him on the couch though, I notice something next to him.

It was an open notebook, a brown leather one. It was sprawled open to two sides of filled pages. They were both littered with writing, and that's when I noticed the pen tucked behind his ear.

He fell asleep down here while writing. He's so cute.

I had no intention of going through his notebook and looking at what he wrote, but something caught my eye and clouded my morals.

As my eyes caught the glimpse of the underlined word at the top of the page, I felt like I was meant to see it.

'Cherry'

I swear my heart skipped too many beats for me to even be breathing still. My lips parted as I picked up the notebook, reading the six letter word over and over and over again, too scared to read any further.

I wander over to the kitchen, gripping the book in my hand and biting my lip.

I couldn't believe it.

Going against my better judgment, I quickly glance lower down on the page.

'I'm keeping you from being at your best,' ... 'I'm selfish so I'm hating it.' , 'Don't you call him what I want you to call me.'

All these scattered lines were written among a lot of other scribbled out ones.

These were lyrics, and he was writing a song about me.