The Hidden Chapters

Oh Shit *Harry one-shot

Harry Styles’ POV

I wake up in an unfamiliar bed, the smell of sweet perfume and my own cologne attacking me immediately. I open my eyes a little and look around the room. My clothes are strewn in every direction along with a red dress. I smile at the feeling of the sheets against my naked body. I roll to my other side and flip my hair out of my eyes so I can see clearly. The lady next to me is tightly wrapped in the white linen sheets. I look around the room and realize it seems somewhat familiar.

I push that thought aside and try to remember the night.

The lads and I had gone to a club to have some fun. I remember the endless rounds of shots and the feeling of a girl dancing dangerously close. I also remember Lou and Eleanor leaving early because they’d wanted privacy. Liam and Niall had gone to get food and I had been left alone on the dance floor.

I’m puzzled to how I met this woman, or who she is.

Does she realize I’m an eighteen year old whose famous? Does she realize I’m Harry Styles from One Direction?

A thought keeps bugging my good feeling and I know I can’t ignore it any longer. I try harder to remember last night, after I was abandoned on the dance floor.

***FLASHBACK****

It had been darkly lit, little splashes of color every once in a while that lit up the room and blinded me. Then, I remember a hand on my shoulder, and a woman’s friendly voice.

“Harry!” She says, her words slurred and full of enthusiasm.

I turn to look at her, but her identity seems too hard to remember. I remember dancing with her, then things quickly turning into something more. We began to dance closer, our hands never seeming to be able to stay off one another. The feelings became important, then the need for something more occurred. It was definitely mutual, so we headed off in a taxi to her house.

I had been there before, many times. So many times that I knew how to get her to the bedroom. My drunken mind hadn’t been able to comprehend the true urgency of her identity, hence the confusion now.

It wasn’t said aloud that we were going all the way, but when her hands slipped my shirt off, I knew it didn’t have to be said aloud. Off with her clothes; they were doing nothing but keeping us apart.

Her hands weren’t shy like most girls. The thought of how she wasn’t a girl but a woman, crossed my mind more than once. A woman who knew exactly what she was doing and did everything right.

The first time she screamed my name had made me feel wrong. Like I should know that it’s wrong, but the part of me that was in action didn’t care. She was just a woman who was enjoying ever minute of it.

So, I did the only reasonable thing at the time:

Enjoy it while it lasted.

****END OF FLASHBACK****

I shake my head a little to clear it, but the ache and jumbled thoughts remain. My whole body feels sore from dancing and other, more obvious physical activity. I look around the room again and the feeling of familiarity comes at me again, but much stronger.

A sense of panic set in.

I was here before, in this house, but not in this room, and sure not with this woman. She rolls over in her sleep, revealing her face. My stomach clamps up, my throat develops a lump about the size of a softball. Guilt dawns on me with the realization of what I had done.

The woman I had slept with had been none other than Johanna Tomlinson.

I had done things with Louis’ mother. Louis, my best friend. And the things I had done with his mum are so wrong on so many levels.

There are no better words to describe my thoughts at that moment except for these simple yet perfect words: oh shit.

******