25 Days With Mr. Arrogant - A Harry Styles fanfiction

CHAPTER 37:

I expected to wake up to his muscular arms draped around me and when I didn't, a wave of disappointment flooded me.

I had been carried from the kitchen to the bedroom and he had, as promised, spent the night exploring the imperfections of my body that yet seemed to be so perfect to him. He had kissed the birthmarks that he found in between my shoulder blades and he had traced patterns between the freckles of my skin.

He had been so gentle with me, as if I was made out of china and about to break at any second. As his hands had soothed carefully over my curves the thought of how long this Harry would last hit me. Was he completely changed or has he deep down always been this way? Perhaps I was Cinderella, waiting for the clock to strike twelve? When he had gently pressed down the pads of his fingertips into my flesh and began massaging, my thoughts had been washed away as if they never even hit my mind.

With that, he had touched where I ached for him once more, and when I closed my eyes as I came he had mumbled words in a foreign languege that I was very familiar with, but did not understand. The french rolling quietly off his tounge sounded so sweet to me.

Yes, french. Harry Styles is fluent in french, and I had no fucking idea. These are the small things I cherish so much about him, and there is yet so many other little matters for me to learn. I want to be the one learning about the freckles and marks grazing his body, and I want to know all about his tattoos and the stories behind them. I long to touch him and I know he suffers my touch just as much, but he has asked for patience, and after all he has done for me in the span of these days - patience is his.

I hoped to find him leaning against the balcony door frame with a cigarette in his mouth, just like the previous morning. After last night's perfect little bubble of me and Harry, I had never wanted to feel the smell of smoke as much when I entered the living room. When I didn't, the wave of disappoint turned into an tsunami. Did the clock strike twelve already?

The beep of my phone was the morning saviour. A text from Harry.

*Good morning. I have work, and I couldn't bear waking you up. Meet me later? You look very happy in your sleep. H x*

I am happy because I am next to you, I smile and think to myself as I read the text over and over a few times before replying.

*Call me later.*

I hit send and set the phone down. I want to call him but then again I don't want to disturb his work. So I decide to do some work of my own. With a cup of coffee and my MacBook, I'm seated on a stool by the kitchen island. I flush thinking about last night's events that took place here. I try shaking the image out of my head so that I'm able to focus on what needs to be done.

I end up spending the entire morning in my sweats and glasses by the laptop, editing columns and articles. When I was about to listen to that damn playlist that Kyle gave me, I remember that it's still lying there on the floor like a pile of smashed parts. A stupid playlist of romantic love songs was enough to make Harry go insane, and what for?

I chuckle all to myself at the memory of Harry during our argument about the playlist. He was tugging so hard att his hair I literally thought it was going to come of his scalp. He had been so jealous and over-protective. Somehow the fact that he's capable of those two emotions when it comes to me makes me warm inside and I can feel the corners of my lips tugging upwards. But jealousy isn't usually a pretty look to him -- I remember the disgusting words leaving his mouth when I had gone to dinner with Nate. Thinking about the way he used to treat me sends a horrifying shiver through me. I hate thinking about it, I hate thinking about how we treated each other, but I do now believe that I can't run from those thoughts forever. I know he has changed and that he's still in the process of changing for the better. But even though I've seen him at his worst, and I still think he is the best.