Chapter Nine.

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"And why do I get so nervous
when I look into your eyes?
Butterflies can't stop me fallin' for you
And darlin', this is more than anything I felt before
You're everything that I want,"

Aurora Brown

It's been about two months since Harry and I started...dating? seeing each other?

We haven't made anything official yet but I don't necessarily have a problem with that. Harry is so loving, so gentle and so caring he never makes me feel the need to label this relationship or doubt the genuinity of it.

Harry has slept over a couple of times, enough number of times to have a part of my wardrobe reserved for his spare clothes, a place for his toothbrush and his seemingly endless collection of socks. In all the times he has stayed over we've watched sappy rom-coms, listened to music, cooked and did just about everything, all except-sex.

Its not that sex is off- topic, and neither is it compulsory for us to get into it so soon but I just can't help but wonder

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Its not that sex is off- topic, and neither is it compulsory for us to get into it so soon but I just can't help but wonder. Although we haven't never really spoken about it, if Harry is giving it as much thought as I am.  Harry has made it evidently clear that he didn't mind waiting till I'm ready and I am beyond grateful for that.

Yet, everytime things get.. heated, like that times I ended up straddling his lap while Ross and Rachel argued whether or not they were on a break, on the TV. For the record, yes. they were on a break.

or the time tickling ended up with him tackling me to the floor, and pinning my arms above me.

I don't know what I want- I'm not sure if I want to have sex so soon, neither do I want to.. not do it.

It feels wrong to leave him hanging when I know things will progress further if I let him, it feels guilty almost, like I'm depriving him of intimacy.

He never makes me feel like that though, it's just all in my head. 

And I know that it's never right to force any big step in a relationship, just adjust the sails as the wind blows and it'll all be okay, it'll happen when it has to happen, so I don't worry about it so much.

I should become a goddamn therapist.

These are the thoughts that are swimming around in my head while I lay flat-dead below a very sleepy Mr. Styles. With our legs tangled under the white duvet, laptop buried and lost somewhere deep in the covers still playing some movie in low volume, my hair is caught in maze between the pillow and Harry's arm.

Harry is a big cuddler, size wise and how much he actually likes to cuddle, its a lot more than how much you'd expect an average 23 year old to like it; it's literally his favourite thing to do.

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