Trust » Harry Styles

seven: comfort

Comfort
noun;
a state of physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint

Harry pulled me all the way to my house, with my directions. He says this first lesson, or whatever, needs to be in a house – so we headed to mine.

“I don’t know what my place has to do with anything…”

“You’ll see, Porsche.”

“Whatever.”

I hated surprises, I hated suspense, it made me mad and I didn’t like it. I don’t like waiting; I never had and never will. Ever since I was a kid, I’d always have to know what we were doing, what was happening, what my presents were, everything.

Harry led me to my front door, which he let me unlock, and we entered the small two bedroom house I had bought a year ago.

Harry walked off towards the narrow hallway, and I followed him in case he was to touch anything he shouldn’t. I still don’t trust the guy, but what else can I do?

We found ourselves in my bedroom. I stood in the door as I watched Harry stand next to my bed and look around the medium sized room – the walls were a light purple, my favourite colour; but nothing was on the walls, the room was simple. Queen size bed, a dresser, a mirror and an en-suite which was attached to my room.

“I like your room, it’s simple.”

“Yeah, thanks. Why are we in here anyway?”

Harry grinned cheekily at me, and I hate to admit that his smile – dimples and all – caused my heart to flutter just a tiny bit.

“Take off your shoes and lie on your bed.”

What? Is he serious?

“What the hell?”

“Just do it, I’m not going to like, take advantage of you. I swear on my life.”

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and comply with his wishes, so I took off my worn out vans and laid down on my bed, facing him.

“No, under the cover.”

I did as he said and got under the cover, which instantly warmed me up from the cold weather. I was confused and slightly agitated, if this idiot was just messing with me, then he was going to get it.

I watched as he took off his shoes also and jumped over me, hopping under the covers with me and cuddling up to me. His arm slid around my waist and pulled me to his chest; he was spooning me.

“What the fuck, are you doing, Harry?”

“We’re cuddling.”

“What does this have to do with being happy, for God’s sake?”

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice came out in a whisper and I could feel the heat of his breath on the back of my head.

“How do you feel right now, Porsche? Think about it.”

I went silent, and thought. I felt warm, and kind of nice, with his arms wrapped around me – I almost felt safe. But there was one thing I did feel, and it was an odd feeling, one I haven’t felt in a long time.

“I feel comfort with you, right now, Harry.”