Treasure [h.s]

| 03 - One Of Them |

Fire. My body is on fire.

My bed feels comfier than usual, though. Did I get new bedding? God, these sheets feel like ice on my hot skin.

My head feels like it's being split open with a dull axe, what the fuck happened?

I sigh and open my eyes, blinking at the white surrounding my entire body. Am I dead? Am I in a cloud? Fuckin' feels like it.

My lips smack together, a sour taste in my mouth making me cough. God, my throat is dry. Have I not had any water in a week? Maybe I hit my head and I actually just woke up from a coma. I close my eyes again, groaning and stretching out my body. My hands feel around the expensive bedding I'm cocooned in and suddenly it hits me:

This isn't my bed. This isn't my house.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I shoot up from the blankets, holding myself up on my hands and knees since I was asleep on my stomach. I try to look around but the sudden jolt makes my head ring. My face falls back down into the pillow, brows pinching up from the pain.

"Ah- shit. Okay, okay, mercy," I plead to no one, willing away the headache that's frying my last remaining brain cell. I'm facing the headboard of the bed, and when I finally open my eyes again I sit back on my ankles. The blanket falls from my shoulders and I realize the sun is what's making it so fucking hot in here.

"Morning. Don't freak out," a deep accent behind me makes me jump. I whip around in my spot, eyes landing on a freshly dressed Harry. He's sitting in a chair with his ankle resting on the opposite knee. His hands are rested on the arms of the chair and he looks far too amused.

I furrow my brows, unable to speak from both the confusion and the sandpaper in my throat. Freak out? Do I need to be...? Did we sleep together? Shit. I drank so much I can't even remember if we had sex.

Oh god. This is it, I'm ruined. One night is all it takes and I fucking did it.

"Woah, relax." He leans forward in the armchair facing the bed. "Why do you look like you're about to freak out? I said don't, everything is fine. You're fine." He sounds confused now, too.

"We didn't sleep together, right?" I ask, now shaking. My breathing is unsteady in my chest.

He shakes his head. "I wouldn't ever sleep with someone as drunk as you got," he says sternly. "Do you do that a lot? You passed out in the fucking bathroom with vomit down your clothes." He chuckles. My cheeks heat and I rub my hands over my face.

This is bad. I fucked up. I broke my streak of being good and now I'm sitting in a random hotel with a man that I don't know.

Wait, why is he in here if we didn't sleep together?

"I thought you said you were going to leave the keys and not come back?" I look up from my hands. "Why are you watching me sleep?" I pull the cover over my body more, feeling self-conscious at the realization that I don't know how long he's been here.