Intent [Wattys 2017]

Chapter 21

Emma

A pounding headache and darkness. In this moment these two things are all that I really know, all that my life consists of really, jack hammers on the brain and blackness. I nearly don't have the will to open my eyes until I feel the plush pillow beneath my head and smell him on me, all around me.

As I slowly try to peel my eyes open I am met with a bright light streaming through his window, curtains pulled all the way back.

Really Harry? Couldn't even pull the blinds closed?

The small ounce of me that actually wanted me to wake up is completely gone, this lights just too much causing me to bury my head deeper into Harry's pillow..

Oh shit, Harry.

To say I don't remember the entirety of last night would be a bit of an exaggeration. I surprisingly remember most of it given the amount of alcohol that I consumed last night. The champagne in the limo, the way his leg pressed against mine when he sat next to me, his fingers drawing small circles on my knee, the way we danced, his body pressed against mine, the way he kissed my jaw before moving down my neck. I shiver at the memory of his lips against me, I hardly believe it. Harry Styles, my oldest and best friend kissed me and I actually kissed him back.

Suddenly I am wide awake.

Fuck.

I lay flat on my back staring at his ceiling, unable to move. I've been in his room hundreds of times and it suddenly feels so foreign to me. I'm out of place, uncomfortable even more as I look down my body noticing that I'm only covered in his t-shirt and my lace underwear.

Dear God we didn't have sex last night, did we?

Yes I drank way too much last night but I hope I would remember having sex, especially the way he made me feel simply kissing my skin. I've had some wild times over the years but I have never forgotten having sex with someone, I think to myself rubbing both my hands over my face.

My chest starts to rise and fall faster than I can handle, not even allowing me to take in enough air to actually accommodate my entire body. The sheets suddenly feel like a ten pound sack on top of me, suffocating me with it's weight and unbearable heat. I need to get out.

I sit up in the bed rubbing my chest trying to calm myself down. Jesus I haven't had one of these since I was a young weak girl, I thought I'd grown out of it by now.

What on earth was I thinking last night? How could I possibly jeopardize everything we have, everything we finally fixed just a few days ago for a few moments of overwhelming pleasure? We were good, finally good after our movie night on my birthday and now I go a fuck it all up like only I can do.

I slide off the bed only to step on a pair of Harry's discarded boxer briefs on the floor, the contact sending a shiver up my entire body. As I try to stand I suddenly feel lightheaded and sit back down on the mattress. I flop myself back down on his sheets breathing in the intoxicating smell that is Harry Styles once more.

Using all the energy I can muster I stand back up and tip toe my way around the bed to his door not bothering to pick up my clothes, I need to get out of the situation right now, who cares what I am wearing.

As I open the door and sneak my head out I hear movement down the hall towards the kitchen. He's humming, the smell of bacon assaulting my nostrils in one swift blow. There is absolutely no smell better in the world than bacon cooking in the pan, well maybe Harry depending on how hungry I am.

Aw, he's making us breakfast... oh shit he's making me breakfast.

I retreat to his bathroom across the hall, quickly locking the door before he hears me. I stare at myself in the mirror. My bed head in full force, my eye makeup a little smudge but there is no evidence that we did anything all that physical last night but I'm still not sure.