Adaline was never meant to survive the night she vanished into Melbourne's underworld. One wrong glance at Fantasia, and she's caged in silk and steel by Harry Styles, the city's most lethal kingpin.
He calls it protection.
She calls it a golden c...
"It's just one of those days when you don't wanna wake up
Everything is fucked, everybody sucks
You don't really know why, but you wanna justify
Rippin' someone's head off
Your best bet is to stay away
It's just one of those days"
Break Stuff - Limp Bizkit
A/N: This song was the inspiration for the chapter and you should all listen to it. It's an oldie, but a goodie. This chapter was super fun to write, hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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I wake up in what can only be described as a foul mood.
My body should feel loose and languid. Last night Harry unravelled me so completely I saw stars as every muscle turned to liquid - pleasure far beyond anything I'd ever dreamed possible. And that wasn't even the main event. Instead, my shoulders are knotted and my pulse is already racing. The contrast is jarring; I'm supposed to be floating, not fraying.
A quick glance at my phone does nothing to help when I see it's only a little after five in the morning - far too early to be awake - yet here I am. Steady, heavy raindrops beat in chaotic percussion against the curtained window, sporadically interrupted by the low rumble of distant thunder. The glass vibrates with each strike, like the city itself is trying to break in. Seems appropriate.
Normally, waking up wrapped in the warmth of Harry's muscled arms is heavenly. This morning, though, the gesture feels restricting and irritating. I try to shift into a more comfortable position, but I'm locked tight against his body. Irrational annoyance bubbles dangerously in my stomach, further fuelled by Harry's open-mouth breathing right beside my ear. Each exhale grates on my nerves like it was engineered specifically to annoy.
And yet, beneath the irritation, there's a new sensation - something warm and terrifying - tugging at my ribs. I feel him everywhere, like he's stitched himself into the lining of my chest. I've never been this emotionally tethered to anyone, and the intimacy should soothe me. The fact that it doesn't only adds to my displeasure.
I honestly don't know what's come over me. I'm never like this. Sure, I overthink constantly - courtesy of my crippling anxiety. But this is a whole new level of emotional distress that I've never experienced. Or perhaps, more accurately, never been allowed to experience.
If I were thinking logically, I might be able to figure out where all this pent-up irritation is coming from. But I'm far too distracted by who it is currently aimed at.
Before I do something I'll regret, I manage to squirm out of Harry's hold and bolt to the bathroom before he can react. I hear him grumble in a deep, gravelly morning voice, but I'm already closing the door.
