Road Trip (H.S.)

Chapter 10

Felicity

My eyes slowly open as my body starts to wake up. I'm wrapped up in the world's most comfiest duvet ever and I kind of don't want to leave it. I don't know what time it is, but I assume it has to be early in the morning. The curtains at the windows conceal most of the light, leaving this room much darker than it probably is, but there are a few rays of sunlight peeking through the fabric.

As I scan the room I'm in, the unfamiliar surroundings cause me to worry until I remember where I am. Maybe I was too tired last night to pay attention to what was going on. I know I'm in Atlanta and I know we're at a stranger's house. Well, it's not technically a stranger to Harry, but I can't remember the lady's name. What I can remember is that she has silvery blonde hair and she's really pretty. I'm a really terrible guest.

The trundle bed beside me is empty, the sheets tangled up in a ball as the pillow sits on the floor. I'm guessing that's where Harry slept last night, and seeing as he isn't here, he's either in the bathroom or downstairs with the lady. I didn't even hear him get up. And how did we decide who slept on the trundle bed? Did he lose to me in a game of rock, paper, scissors? 

After rubbing my eyes, I finally get up off the bed and make my way to my duffle bag. I change into a pair of leggings and a fresh shirt before heading into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I catch a little bit of laughter coming from downstairs, hearing Harry's voice echo throughout the house. Somehow that brings me relief, knowing he's somewhere near me.

I run my hands through my tangled hair, trying my best to smooth it out. My notorious flyaways decide not to cooperate with me, so I give up trying to fix my hair and just pull all of it back into a crazy, messy bun. This hairstyle always compliments so many girls, but for some reason, it just makes me look like I walked in from a windstorm. Unfortunately, I have to make do with what I've got.

Exiting the bedroom, I navigate my way through the hallway and follow in the direction of Harry's laughter. As I pass by some pictures on the walls, I recognize the lady in a few of them. I don't know how long she's lived here, but there are a few settings in the pictures that I recognize from back home. She must have lived near me at one point. 

As I get to the bottom of the stairs, the last picture catches my eye. A younger Harry in a baseball cap smiles brightly as the silvery blonde lady has her arm around his shoulders. It's a really cute picture and I wouldn't have noticed it was Harry if I didn't catch those brown curls peeking out from under the hat. Staring at the picture even more, there's something about him that looks different. I don't know if it's his smile or just the fact that he's younger in the photo, but for some reason he doesn't look like the same Harry Styles that I've known these past two days. 

I walk into the kitchen, seeing Harry on the floor with his legs sprawled out. A little girl that looks to be around two years old runs around him, laughing and squealing as Harry tickles her and makes a bunch of sound effects. The lady stands at the kitchen stove, her back to me as she cooks breakfast. It's only a few short seconds before Harry notices me standing at the doorway, a genuine smile gracing his lips.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Sleep well?" He laughs as he stands up, scooping the little girl in his arms as she giggles some more.

"Um. Yeah," I nod as he watches me. "The bed is really comfortable."

"It is, isn't it?" The lady smiles as she turns around. I can't believe I don't know her name. I should have been able to remember it by now. "I've always loved that bed but Tom likes the one in our room much better. I don't know why."

I have no idea who Tom is but I'm going to assume it's her husband.

Harry walks right up to me, tickling the little girl in his arms. It's truly adorable how he plays with her and makes her laugh. His smile is real and I can see it in the way his dimples appear so deep and how his eyes crinkle at the sides. There's something about him playing with this little girl that warms my heart.