Manic [h.s]

12

hotel rooms.

Skye

It's Saturday, and waking up next to Harry is like stepping out of a time machine. His long hair gets much messier in the morning then his short hair ever did, his eyelids are still calmly laid on his eyes. He's so peaceful like this, without the teasing and the commentary. He's truly been insufferable ever since this book deal. I think he does it as a front though, like some sort of tough guy act. Much like myself, I think he's hiding that theres a lot about him that's exactly the same. There's something too vulnerable to think that we still know so much about eachother.

While I like to pretend I've changed since my move to LA and reinvented myself, people don't change, they grow. Apart, together, by themselves, so one and so fourth. This is something profound that I can't help but think about while I watch him sleep. It can't be any time past 6 right now.

"What'cha looking at?" He interrupts my thought with his eyes still shut. His morning groggy voice, exactly the same.

"An asshole." I say.

"Are you enjoying the view?" He scoffs. He seems proud of himself with that one, and opens his eyes partially to see my reaction.

"Not really. His hair is kinda long." I teasingly pick up a strand of his hair that he swats away.

"It's too early for this Skylar." He groans and turns into his pillow.

"Is it okay if I use your shower?" I ask.

"mmm" He hums into the pillow as if it were and answer. I roll out of bed, grab my phone from my pile of clothes and walk to the bathroom with a beautiful white vanity sink, and such a nice waterfall shower. The kind you dream of when you live in a rented apartment with low water pressure and rusty faucets.

I almost gasp at the sight, and find myself reaching to the white puffy towel on the rack. It's so damn soft.

I turn on the water, almost as hot as it can go and it steams up the room. The warmth whirs through the air and I feel the moisture as I inhale. I begin to take off Harry's clothes and look at myself in the mirror.

the beauty mark on my ribcage.
the way the muscle in my neck pops out.
the smoothness of my skin.

I never really do this anymore. The detachment I feel by just looking at myself is a lot to handle.

I put my music on shuffle and step into the shower. I look at the black walls which create such a nice and modern contrast to the white vanity, as the warm water pours over my skin.

Everything feels so nice I almost forget about last night. The black car, Harry's reaction... all of it slips my mind.

I grab the hotel shampoo and start to lather it into my hair. I watch as the soap flows down my body and into the drain. I condition my hair and spend some extra time under the shower before deciding to step out. I grab the plush towel from the rack and wrap it around me, then walk out of the bathroom.

He's on the phone with someone as I pick up my clothes from yesterday, he watches as I bend over.

He sure seems wide awake now.
"Go fuck yourself." I mutter.

He points the phone away from his mouth, "oh, i will." he whispers proudly back at me. I roll my eyes at his reaction and go back into the bathroom to get dressed. This feels very ~walk of shame~ even though nothing happened. Atleast I got to shower though.

I begin to take off the towel when Harry comes bursting through the door. I struggle to cover myself back up with the towel. "Harry what the hell?" I shout. My cheeks flushed as he smirks down at me.