Exposure • h.s.

CHAPTER24.

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I've been in the bathroom for about ten minutes, just sitting on the closed toilet lid. The position I've chosen is kind of strategic, intentionally uncomfortable, as it has the perk of not letting me dive into any deep thoughts. Truth is, maybe I don't want to dwell on what just went down, because if I get lost in one of my usual deep contemplations, I know I won't come out of it alive. Every time I blink, in that split second when my eyes are shut, all that flashes behind my eyelids is Harry – his mouth exploring my soft spots, his raised eyebrows as he glanced up at me, how he casually swallowed my arousal afterward.

I can't believe it really happened.

It's not that I didn't want an experience like that, but it's because I never in a million years expected that the first time someone went down on me, that someone would be Harry.

The Harry Styles.

The guy who's practically a walking bad luck charm.

The most cryptic person I've ever known.

The one I hate the most in this entire world.

The intense, fragile, and incredibly gentle intimacy we just shared felt like a rare moment of authenticity in the chaotic sea of twisted interactions we usually have when we're close. No one's ever made me feel this way; no one's ever cared. Not even me.

I try to reassure myself, sort of rocking in the belief that millions of people have sex every day without ever meeting again, or without letting their little romantic encounter drastically alter their everyday lives.

This will also be my case: a casual moment of intimacy that just so happened to be with Harry.

I try to distract myself from the thought, and I remember Zayn had mentioned him and the guys would be waiting for me downstairs, since they apparently want me to stick with them tonight. Even though I'm not exactly thrilled about getting into trouble again, there's a part of me that can't help but savor the pleasant anticipation of the evening ahead. I wonder what they have planned, who I'll run into, if we'll have a blast, and if I'll get a chance to hang out with Har...

I squash that thought before it takes root, wishing I could dissect my brain into a thousand fragments and reassemble it to my liking, gaining full control over the mental pathways since they seem to be slipping a bit out of my grasp.

The t-shirt I'm wearing still has a damp spot on the word 'man.'

That soggy stain is undeniable evidence of what Harry just did to me. Of what I wanted him to do.

I need to get rid of it.

I yank the t-shirt off vigorously and toss it to the floor, not even bothering to throw it into the laundry hamper.

After slipping into a clean, dry pair of underwear, I grab another random t-shirt and dash down the hallway like a lightning bolt, just to soon realize that maybe taking the stairs isn't the best idea right now since my legs are still a bit wobbly, and I could risk taking a tumble. This is the perfect moment to enjoy all the lavish comforts this house has to offer: that's why I'm taking the elevator.

What screams more "rich people" than not even having to walk or climb stairs in your own home?

I press the elevator button, and just as the light comes on, I hear a door opening and slow, heavy footsteps approaching – sooner than I can even realize, Harry shows up beside me.

I can't deal with this right now.
I need a bit more time without being close to him so that the imaginary bar of pure, venomous hatred I feel towards him can recharge.