Pretend (Harry Styles) - Book 3

Chapter 31: Slow

20 Weeks Along

-Ava's POV-

"I look fat."

"You're pregnant."

"Pregnant or not I look fat." I huff, looking myself up and down in the mirror.

"You look pregnant. Now calm down, Harry's going to want to get into your knickers either way."

"Poppy!" I shriek, holding the phone against my ear as I tug my shirt down.

"Just being honest love."

"I'm not having sex with him. This week is about fixing us.. If we can."

"Please!" Poppy laughs. "You lot can't keep your hands off each other. And as long as you're both on the same page I see no reason not to take advantage of the situation."

"We're not going to sleep together."

"Remind yourself of that when the lad takes his shirt off."

"I do have some self control, unlike some people.."

"Self control is over-rated. Harry Styles' abs are not."

"Please stop." I groan.

"Getting you worked up?"

"You're supposed to be helping me. Telling me how pretty I look since I look the exact opposite of that and Harry is about ready to walk through the front door any second. Poppy, I look gross. I feel gross. I'm only halfway through my pregnancy and I'm already..."

"Enough!" Poppy laughs. "You're rambling and I need a proper drink if I have to listen to this utter rubbish. You're gorgeous, you haven't gained more weight then you're supposed to, and your skin is glowing right now. Glowing. Your hair looks better then ever. I want to chop it off and wear it as a bloody wig. Pregnancy has done you well. And so will Harry when he sees you."

"You're ridiculous." I laugh, shaking my head as I turn to the side.

"And you're right fit and get to bonk..."

"Alright I get it!"

"Just saying you've really nothing to complain about."

"Yeah yeah." I cringe as I stare at my reflection. "Says the woman who whines that Niall Horan likes to cuddle after sex."

"Clingy lad, that one." Poppy laughs. "Now wear the red shirt, keep your hair down and be done with it."

"You're always so helpful." I hear a car door close and look out the window. "Shit! He's here. I don't even have makeup on yet!"

"He prefers you without it. Now go and enjoy him."

"I'm going to ignore that and just say I love you and goodbye." I roll my eyes as I hurriedly brush my hair out.

"Love you too! Have fun!"

I quickly end the call, dropping my phone onto the bed before heading downstairs.

I've been so concerned with how I look I hadn't even thought of what I'm going to say to him. I know we are going to have 'the talk' at some point. Hopefully it's not tonight. My thoughts are still so mixed up I'm sure I wouldn't make any sense.

I reach for the handle on the front door, pulling it open just as Harry steps in front of it.

He stares at me for a moment, taking me in as I do the same. He wets his lips with his tongue as he pulls the hat off his head.

I nearly swoon at the site.

His white sweater is snug, hugging his chest. The sleeves are pushed up on his forearms, showing off the tattoos inked across his skin. His jeans are the same as always, tight and black.

I'm so screwed. I already want to rip his clothes off him.

No sex, I remind myself. We're going to take this slow. Slow.

When his eyes meet mine I take a breath. When his dimples pop I know I'm done for.

He steps inside, closing the door since I'm apparently unable to make my body function. His bag is dropped to the floor, his hat being set on top of it before he once again focuses on me.

"Hiiiii." He grins, his chest moving up and down just slightly faster then it normally would.

"Hi." I smile back, "You... Um, you hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Good, I made dinner."

"Okay." He breaths out, staring at me so intently I about melt right onto the floor.

Slow Ava. Slow.

"Soooo should we eat?" I bite my lip as he steps towards me.

Damn pregnancy hormones, they make not jumping on top of him nearly impossible. Well pregnancy hormones plus the fact he looks very Harry like. In other words.. Perfect.

"Sure." His voice comes out incredibly deep as he looks between my eyes and lips.

I glance down at his chest, realizing I can faintly see his tattoos through his thin sweater. He is trying to kill me wearing that. I'm sure about twenty million other women would agree.

Slow.

Slow. Slow. Slow.

"You look..." He shakes his head a bit. "Shit you're gorgeous."

I suck in a breath as he pushes his hair off his face. "Th-Thanks."

Wow, I'm pathetic.

He smirks as I fiddle with my hands. Looking down at them as I try to control myself.

"So do you want to eat then?"

"No."

My eyes snap up to meet his. "No?"

"No."

"Okay.. Do you want to talk? Or..."

"I want to kiss you." He takes another steps towards me. "Then I'd really like to fuck you, if I'm being honest."

My eyes widen as I choke on my words. "Slow. We need... We need to go slow."

"Sounds wretched." He frowns, "We both know we're going to make this work. Have a bit to hash out, but we will. We're in love. Going to have a baby. I don't want slow. I want to make love to you, talk to you, sleep next to you, then wake up and spend the next six days proving how much I love you and how sorry I am."

"Harry..." I shake my head, feeling my weak resolve fading.

"I fucking missed you. I know you missed me. So we can either pretend to be practically strangers and take this slow or we can be what we really are."

"And what is that exactly?" I question.

"Us. We know each other inside and out. I don't want slow. I want us." He says honestly, his eyes searching my face desperately.

"Us.." I repeat.

"Us." He nods, reaching out and taking my hands in his. "I'm a total fuck up Ava. I know that. But us... We're perfect."

I look up into his eyes, getting lost in them as I always do.

And suddenly going slow doesn't sound as good as it did before.

Suddenly, it doesn't seem like an option at all.

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Double update!!