Reckless || Harry Styles AU

33: boys will be boys

GUESS WHO'S IN THIS CHAPTER. COMMENT & VOTE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE :-)

Jess

"I'm not getting that."

"What makes you think I'm getting it?"

"Uh, you kicked it up there?"

He narrows his eyes in concentration, looking from me to the soccer ball stuck up in the tangled tree branch.

He sucks in a sharp breath, the corners of his mouth stretching outwards, showing his white teeth. "Yeah, not worth it."

He begins to walk back towards the creek, but I pull him back.

"No, no, no. Just go up and get the damn ball. I was having fun kicking it," I tell him, sternly.

He smiled at me. "Well, I was chasing after the football every time you had fun kicking it."

I clap my hands together in front of my face. "Please."

I knew that my begging was getting to him when his face relaxed in annoyance.

"Fine, but if I fall and break something..."

"It'll suck," I finish for him.

He chuckles and shakes his head before walking back over to the tree and attempt to begin his climb.

His feet slip on the slick bark and I can't help but stand back and be overwhelmed with amusement.

He gets to the point where if he'd push himself up, he can reach out and knock the ball off the branches. Once he does, the ball tumbles out of the tree and Harry loses his footing and falls to the ground, rolling onto his back.

"Fucking hell," he mutters. I rush over to him. I know the fall wasn't further than two feet off the ground and he'd landed on his feet before going to his back, but Harry is clumsy as hell.

As soon as I get to him, he's laughing and the next thing I know he has me pulled on top of him.

"You just made me get a football out of a tree, Jessy," he declares.

Oh, God, he hit his head too hard, didn't he.

"You don't even like football." Now he's laughing again. I brush his curls out of his face, my hand lingering down to his jaw as he just smiled.

"Who said I didn't like football-er, soccer?" I ask. Yeah, I may not be the best at hand-eye coordination, but the game wasn't half bad. I was more of a baseball, American-football fan myself, but I didn't hate soccer.

Harry didn't seem at all worried about the question I just asked, nor the fact that he was still lying on the wet grass. He instead lifted his hand to cradle my face, swiping his thumb across my cheek a couple of times before pulling our faces together, our lips meeting gently and briefly.

I look into his unbelievably green eyes and think about how lucky I am.

"I'm crazy about you," he whispered. His eyes searched my face and I said the first thing that came to mind.

"Good."

His smile widens and he kisses my cheek before helping me off of him and standing up.

I suddenly heard footsteps from the left of us and see a very angry looking Gemma. How the hell did she find us here?

"Do either of you answer your damn phones?! Harry, your idiot friends are here and mum's been giving away all of our biscuits to those nimrods, so you better get your arse back to the house!" Gemma explodes on him.