nights; h.s.

43

literally sitting here writing about harry styles, wearing a harry styles sweatshirt, and listening to harry styles by harry styles im-

forty-three

brooklyn

The golden-hour light shot through the cracks in Harry's blinds and into his room. I watched as the fuzzies in the thick air floated around so visibly. Our breaths were heavy and un-synced, the only other sound in his bedroom was I Wanna Be Yours playing quietly off of my phone. "That was fun," I finally spoke, pulling the thin white sheet over my bare chest. Harry chuckled, running his hand through his hair. "Yeah," he swallowed. The sunlight illuminated his green eyes so beautifully, making his light brown eyelashes appear even longer than they already were.

"My mom should be coming by anytime now," I spoke up again quietly, reaching over the nightstand to pick up my IPhone. I had gotten a text from her about 3 minutes ago that she was leaving the house meaning she'd be here in 15 minutes.

"Just stay. Just come with me," he laughed, sliding his hand under the sheet and pulling my body closer to his. "Should've asked earlier," I smiled.

I lifted my hand to his soft cheek, rubbing the pad of my thumb against his skin. "I've never wanted to frame a moment more in my life." Harry commented, gripping my sticky waist. I smiled.

"When does your flight take off?"

"7:45, but for once, can we not talk about it? Let's just," he paused and sighed, "Be now. Not later?"

I pursed my lips, nodding in agreement.

So we laid there, listening to faint Arctic Monkeys entangled in each other's limbs. I couldn't even act as though I wasn't thinking although it was clear Harry wasn't, my mind was racing.

Was Harry gonna hook up with another girl in Carolina?

Is he gonna come back?

Am I gonna have to confront Derek?

Is Junior ever gonna be able to play again?

Is Mom gonna be able to pay for Junior's surgeries and two tuitions at the same time?

Are we gonna lay charges?

I tried to dismiss my thoughts and focus on this moment, right here, right now. The boy I loved was laying inches away from me for the last time for two weeks. Minutes pass and Harry finally breaks his eye-contact by slowly rolling over.

"I gotta wee," he says, dismissing himself. He lazily pulled his black basketball shorts over his hips and shuffled into his bathroom, mom-closing the door.

I figured we were done with our staring contest so I took this opportunity to get dressed again, without him staring at me. I grabbed my bralette and underwear from the ground and stood to begin searching for my shirt and jeans.

"Is your mom here?" Harry asked, peering over my shoulder. "No-"

"Beautiful," he smiled, his dimples shining through his cheek as he wrapped both his arms around my waist and pulled me back into his bed.

"I gotta get dressed," I whined chuckling but he didn't budge. His warm cheek was pressed in the crook of my neck and his curls fell in with mine. I smiled, biting my lip to try and contain it.