Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 20

In my hazy sleep-filled brain, the thudding of heavy paws thumping down the hardwood floor of the hallway doesn't quite register. I'm in that spacey, fog-like ozone in between being asleep and awake that doesn't quite let you know what's truly going on around you. This was exacerbated when the snout of one of Harry's dogs nudged the door open, allowing the two of them to jump on my bed and suffocate me with kisses and nudges, their weight mixed with their hot doggy breathe and saliva prying me from my sleepy state.

In shock, I yelp and sit up straight as I try to gather my composure, watching them snort and root at the covers for my attention, tails wagging and beating me into consciousness.

"Guys!!" A harsh whisper draws my attention to the door, where a moppy-headed Harry stood peaking his head in. "Sorry..." he smiles sheepishly.

All I could do was look at him wide-eyed. Still in a sleep-filled haze, I glance back at the window that was letting rays of sunlight filter into the room, illuminating the muted blues and grays in the room. I blinked a few times, not hearing the soft padding of bare human feet walk towards my bed.

"Mmm," I just grunted, not wanting to face my reality yet, eyes closing to nurse a few more minutes of sleepy solitude from the day.

I stay eerily still, trying to grasp that I wasn't in my own bed. At the realization, I cover my face, not even able to fathom what I must look like right now. I tried to avoid mirrors at all costs before I was fully awake, but here I was with an audience -- a male one, at that, that I wasn't exactly enthused to share my makeup-less face or morning breath with. I was petrified at the thought that Harry could see me in such a vulnerable, messy state. It's what kept my eyes closed so long, hoping I'd realize this was just a dream.

"Beaufort...Bucksy...." he groaned. "Seriously..." The dogs just grunted as he dragged them to the floor by their collars.

I pushed myself up from bed now that the dogs weight was off of me, the covers falling off my chest and pooling at my waist. I was wearing a wife beater tank, and it wasn't until I reached my arms above my head to stretch that I remembered I wasn't wearing a bra. Harry was standing next to the bed, watching me in an amused fashion. A blush crept onto my features, jumping when Beaufort nuzzled his wet nose against my side so I would pet him. Harry grips his collar again, tugging him backwards.

"What time is it?" I ask, my voice raspy and rough in its still sleepy state. I ran a hand over my face, trying to wake up.

"Almost nine..." he replied, bending down to pet Bucksy's head. "You can go back to sleep if you want. I'm sorry these meatheads woke you up," he chuckled. He couldn't help but let his eyes fall over my half exposed frame, even if I wasn't aware of it. "There's uh, not much going on today. Nick is coming over for some -- male bonding -- and since you're lacking in that arena, you're not invited," he added smarmily. I pursed my lips and crinkled my nose at him.

"Is everyone else up?" I asked, covering my mouth to stifle a yawn. Harry smirks again, still clearly amused at my sleepiness, unable to take his eyes off of me.

"Harry?" Anne's voice called down the hallway, and before either of us knew it, she appeared in the doorway with a surprised look on her face at seeing her son in my room. "What are you doing?" she asks, eyes flitting between us curiously.

"The dogs kinda came barreling in here, Mum..." Harry reasoned, both the dogs turning their heads to their forever mom, who just narrows her own eyes at them.

"Oh, would you two mutts leave the poor girl alone. It's bad enough she's away from her family and stuck with us for the holidays, but she doesn't need to get trampled to death by you in her sleep!"

The two dogs lower their heads, sufficiently chastised as they slowly and sluggishly make it towards the door. As soon as they wiggle out, you can hear their claws click against the hardwood as they barrel off onto their next adventure.

"You have a pillow crease across your face," Harry interrupts. I couldn't help but reach up to rub my face, even though I know he's probably messing with me. "And your ponytail is lopsided."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Thank you for pointing that out," I mumbled sarcastically. I reached up, pulling my hair out of its ponytail, letting its long waves pool along my shoulders, slightly covering the tops of my breasts. I was afraid to look, but I could feel Harry's eyes on me. I hope he couldn't see how hard my nipples were. I hope he couldn't tell that I wasn't wearing a bra.

"It's adorable, really. Your face is all splotchy too," he smirks. He slowly took his index finger and poked my dimple, his own tongue poking the inside of his cheek out of his own playfulness.

"I woke up two minutes ago. I have an excuse to look terrible..." I trailed, reaching my hands up to run through my hair. "What's your excuse?" I smirked, eyeing his skin tight t-shirt and faded baggy plaid pajama bottoms.

Harry scoffs, moving to turn quickly on his heel in a mock prima donna temper tantrum, but he forgot his mother was standing in the doorway silently watching us. He stopped abruptly before running into her, catching her eyes and seeing a billion questions in them. Questions that shock and baffle him. He quickly stiffens and clears his throat before stepping beside her and leaving stoically.

Was that inappropriate of him? He had just gone in there to get the dogs. And he and Olivia always busted each other's balls like that, it was just the nature of their friendship. And they were friends. It's not weird to go into a friend's room while she was sleeping, is it? Or to notice the perkiness and curve of her breasts under her almost see through tank top. He was just a dude. Dudes notice those things. It wasn't sexual. Even if they were nice to look at. He is the first to admit that maybe he's not the greatest at understanding how others perceive his actions or what other people find appropriate. He had just always been bad at it, mostly because he just never really cared what other people thought about his actions anyway -- hell, he couldn't be marrying Eleanor if he did. Everyone hated her. But those questions in his Mom's eyes -- he cared about what she thought. Was what he was doing, was it bad? Her look was almost hopeful, and he didn't even know why. Was he just overreacting? Over analyzing? True, he likes Olivia -- just not in that way, right? He shook his head, reminding himself that he is engaged, and that he loves Eleanor. He really does.

"Ugh, Harry!!" Eleanor calls from downstairs, disdain dripping from her voice. "Nick is here!"

He couldn't help but roll his eyes at her tone. "Coming! I gotta get dressed!" He yelled. No time to think more about this.