Luella

25 | adorable

L U E L L A

By the time my body wakes up and starts to give me muscle aches in the morning, I'd been awoken by the sound of a window curtain sliding open and sunlight rays invading my eyelids' personal space. I allow my face to only frown in exhaustion as yesterday's events start to take its toll on me.

There's something wet on my forehead. My head is pounding, muscles sore, face heavy, skin dirty, heart aching.

What makes me flutter my eyes open wide in alarm is the last thing I can recall from the night before; impersonating a broken-hearted psycho and running into the last person I thought I'd ever encounter again -let alone hug.

But when my hazy vision focuses, I don't acknowledge the screaming muscles of my back as I shoot up on the somehow familiar bed, looking around the large room frantically for anything recognizable. What slaps me in the face is that it's all too familiar, I cringe.

I'm in Harry's room.

I look down at the clean white covers covering my waist down and the smooth material of the sheets.

I'm in Harry's bed.

Crap.

"Oh, hey. You're up,"

Double crap.

Harry is standing by the now opened curtains by the glass balcony doors. His face is unreadable to me, but I can say mine makes a fair good point to be read by him right now. Shock. Parted lips. Realization. Sealed lips.

"Harry," I acknowledge him. Or try to. My voice is hoarse and thick like I've been sleeping for days. My cheeks redden as I cough through it, resulting in a coughing fit, my eyes following Harry as he strides his way from across the room to stand near the bed I'm lying on...I mean, his bed.

He takes the long glass of clear water -that had apparently already been on the bedside table- and moves it towards my mouth.

"Here," he says, his eyes concerned and his eyebrows furrowed in kind concentration. I part my lips to tell him it's okay, or that I can drink by my own, but he takes it as a welcomed invite and presses the cold tip to my bottom lip, gently slipping water into my mouth, my eyes studying him.

"T-Thank you," I clear my throat one last time before I nod once at him, trying not to stare at him for too long. Why does this feel so bizarre?

"It's good thing you're up," Harry remarks nervously, resting the glass in its previous place before looking back at me. His lips grazed by a hesitant smile, his eyes wide with releif. "I wasn't too sure how I'd wake you."

My mouth keeps opening and shutting like a moron, causing Harry to smile wider and let out a genuine chuckle. I still look at him silently.

"I didn't want to wake you, but..." he starts, "AJ said it'd be good to take your medicine by now. So, I guess I'll bring that. Hold on, I'll be right back."

Maybe God has frozen me for eternity, but I can't speak or comprehend anything. My eyes still wander after Harry -in his all too familiar dark jeans and grey v-neck tee- as he walks out the door. I blink and try to recall anything from after the infamous hug. But I only remember him telling me it'd be fine, whatever it was. He was trying to comfort me.

But I'm in his aunt's house. In his room. In his bed. He must've driven me here after that dramatic episode. But why didn't he just call Kate? He could've driven me back to her appartment, as easily as that was. But, he still brought me here. I wonder if Aunt Josie was the one who insisted on it, seeing she may still think that I'm his girlfriend.