Teenage Dirtbag (A Harry Styles FanFic)

Chapter 31

Just saying, that there WILL be a sequel to this story. Teenage Dirtbag is about to end, and I'll be working on the sequel.

But just so you know, the sequel isn't the same as this. Like, blah, it'll make sense later. I can't say much without giving away the ending of Teenage Dirtbag.

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Elena’s POV:

            I woke up the next morning with a yawn, my eyes fluttering open as the sun shined through the curtains. I looked at the empty spot next to me on the bed, the sheets creased from where Harry’s body lay previously. Running a hand through my hair that was still curly because of yesterday, I sat up and realized that I was fully naked. Looking around, I saw my underwear in the corner of the room. Getting up, I walked over and put it on, now only in my bra and underwear. I then spotted Harry's white V-neck, so I put that on as well and saw that it went down to my mid thigh.

            Walking into Harry’s bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror and saw that my make up was smudged. Sighing, I quickly washed my face, ridding off the access make up. Once I was done, I walked out of Harry's room and down the stairs. I entered the kitchen where I saw Harry cooking something on the stove, wearing his favorite grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips.

            I smiled, approaching him quietly. I wrapped my arms around him from behind his body, and his head turned to look at me. A smile creeped on to his face, dimples in view. “Morning,” I say quietly, my forehead resting against his back.

            “Morning, babe,” his gruff morning voice spoke.

            “Whatcha making?” I ask, my hans running over his bare abs as I stayed behind him.

            “French toast,” he replies.   

            I walk around and next to him, looking in the pan and smile. “Looks good,” I say.

            Harry smiles at me before putting the French toasts in a plate and then at the dining table. The two of us sit down and start eating them, and once again, Harry’s cooking totally pleased me.

            “Wow, this is really good,” I say, swallowing down the piece of French toast.

            Harry smirks. “You say that like you expected it to be bad.”

            “Just a tiny bit,” I say in a teasing tone, smiling.

            He rolls his eyes and puts the now empty, dirty dishes away. I stood up from the chair, grabbing myself a glass of water and gulping it down. As I put it away, Harry towered over me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

            “What do you wanna do today?” his raspy voice says, green eyes looking down into my blue ones.