Only You {h.s}

Chapter Three

It's been a few days now since Harry moved in.  He barely even pays attention to my existence, but I suppose that's a good thing.  It saves me from doing something stupid and embarrassing myself.

I hit the snooze button on my phone for the third time, not ready to start my Friday.  I know all anyone is going to be talking about is Luke's party tonight. I mentally groan. 

Once I decide to finally get out of bed, I grab my towel and walk to the bathroom.  I strip out of my sweats and let the scalding water run down my body.  I feel immediately relaxed and quietly hum a song, washing myself.  I stay in the shower a little longer than necessary and inwardly curse at myself for not bringing my clothes with me to the bathroom. 

I step onto the cold tiles and wrap the annoyingly small towel around my body.  Everyone should be at work, or at least I hope so.  I take a deep breath and open the door, ready to sprint to my room.

Of course as soon as I start down the hall, Harry comes out of his room looking sleepy and adorable.  I stop immediately and my eyes go wide, as do his.  My hands clutch my towel as tightly as they can and I feel my cheeks burning.  After his initial shock, Harry smirks and puts his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Well good morning to me," he says cheekily.

"I uh, what?" Could this get any more embarrassing?

He looks me over once more, biting his lip, before he moves past me to go downstairs.  I stand in the same place for a few minutes trying to decipher what his actions mean.  I decide not to let it get to me and go back to getting ready for school. 

I throw on an oversized baby pink knit sweater and light grey leggings with my combat boots.  I brush out my hair, leaving it in its natural waves before winging my eyeliner and putting on mascara.  Grabbing my bag, I rush downstairs knowing I'll probably be late.

I run to the fridge, getting a bottle of water until a voice startles me.

"Hey there," Harry says, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen.  His white shirt rises up a bit as he eats a spoonful of the cereal he's holding in his hands.  His sweatpants are hanging dangerously low on his hips and I can see his v-lines along with more tattoos.  How many damn tattoos does he have?

"Fuck, you scared me," I say breathily, holding a hand to my chest and trying to calm my breathing.

"Sorry, love," he rasps, putting his finished bowl in the sink.  "'M not going into the office today.  Do you want a ride to school?"

I think about his offer for a second.  It makes me nervous to think I'll be in a car alone with him, considering this is already the longest interaction we've had since Harry came back to London.  But I really do need a ride. 

"That would be great," I give him a small smile.  He grabs his keys and cocks his head toward the door, telling me to follow him.  He unlocks his Range Rover and opens the passenger door for me.  I blush, muttering a thank you and climb in.  He gracefully gets into the driver's seat and starts up the car.  Before he backs out of my driveway, he turns to me and sternly says, "Put on your seatbelt."

"Are you serious?" I roll my eyes playfully and turn away from him.  He reaches over and grasps my chin between two fingers and roughly turns my head so I'm looking at him again.  The playful attitude he had in the house is gone and it is now replaced with anger. 

"You will do as I say, little girl."

The dominant tone in his voice is so hot; I involuntarily push my thighs together.  I bite my lip and nod my head, reaching over to fasten the seatbelt.  He lets go of my chin and mutters, "Good girl". I don't think I was supposed to hear it though. 

The rest of the drive is silent, but I don't mind.  His words keep running through my mind.  I feel like it should've scared me, how intense he was.  But it only turned me on.  I'm not used to this feeling.  The furthest I've gone is making out with someone, and it was only with Zayn – at least that's the only one I count.  I shudder at the memory and attempt to push it out of my head. 

I glance at Harry and admire his profile.  His features complement each other in the most beautiful way possible.  The deep pink of his perfectly sculpted lips brings out the green in his eyes.  The barely-there stubble dusting across his lower cheeks and sharp jaw line matches his long chestnut colored hair.  It falls in winding curls down his back and over his shoulders. 

He's driving with one hand, his muscular arm covered in tattoos flexes with every turn of the wheel.  His long, ringed fingers grip the steering wheel and his right hand rests on the middle console.

He turns his head slightly toward me and I immediately look away.  He slowly places his large hand on my thigh, making me flinch.  As much as he is turning me on, my anxiety is killing my mood.  I can't handle him touching me like that right now, not when I was just thinking about him.  I'm too scared to say anything; he probably thinks I only flinched out of surprise.     

My breathing starts to quicken and my body is beginning to shake.  Why does this have to happen?  I just want to cry out of embarrassment because there's no way in hell Harry doesn't realize I'm having an anxiety attack.

I pull my sleeves over my hands and look out the window, attempting to slow my breathing.  He takes his hand away and I didn't have to be looking at him to know his eyes are on me.

"Mer?  Are you alright?" he questions softly and goes to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.  I feel his fingertips on my skin and immediately move out of the way and turn to look at him with red, watery eyes.

"Don't touch me!"  I half shout, half sob at him.  I bury my face in my hands and cry as quietly as I can manage.  He pulls the car to the side of the road and shuts it off. 

"Mer, I need you to look at me.  I promise I won't touch you, but I need you to look at me," he says calmly.  I take a shaky breath and move my hands away from my face, looking up at him.  I feel so small and pathetic.  I'm still trembling when he speaks again.

"Good, that's good.  Now I want you to keep your eyes on mine and breathe with me, okay?"

I clench my eyes shut for a second before looking at him and nodding slightly.  I watch as he takes a deep breath through his nose and holds it for a few seconds; I do the same.  He lets his breath out slowly through his mouth and I follow suit.  It is difficult for me at first, but eventually I calm down.  I rub my tear stained cheeks, continuing our eye contact.

"You better now?" 

I nod.

"Do you want to tell me what that was all about?" he askssoftly.  I have to swallow down the lump in my throat before speaking.

"I-I can't.  I can't d-do that," I stutter out, looking down at my lap.  If he knew the truth, he wouldn't look at me the same.  He runs his hands through his hair and keeps his eyes forward.

"This is all my fault," he whispers.

"What do you mean?"

"Lou said you've been through some shit.  It's my fault for bringing it all back again," he says, sounding disappointed with himself.  I sit up straight and look at Harry with wide eyes.

"What exactly did he say?" I ask, clenching my fists in anger.

"Well he didn't go into any detail, just that you've had a rough time.  I guess he wasn't kidding."

I nod my head subtly.  Good.  Harry doesn't need to know.  I yawn and lean back in my seat.  I'm exhausted.  I think he realizes this too.

The next thing I know, I'm being carried to my room.  My shoes are being taken off and I'm being covered by a blanket.  I sigh at the comfort and I feel myself about to slip into darkness again. 

The last thing I hear before I sleep is Harry's deep voice.

"Sleep well, angel."

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