First lesson- how to touch yourslef
"You have got to be kidding me." Harry snorted, laughing loudly with his head thrown back, his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut.
"Shut up, Styles." I groaned, blushing and scooting further on the bed, my back supported by pillows. This is why I hated these question games, I always ended up embarrassed, one way or the other.
We were in his room, some tv show playing in the background while we downed the beers his sister had picked up for us earlier and ate the chips and the cookies his mom had left for us. Whe had decided to stay in and do nothing, talking until our throats were sore from laughter and our eyelids were heavy with sleep, just like old times. Only this time, alcohol replaced the juice box from when we were kids, and I kept stealing glances to his face, taking note of how big his eyes were or how kissable his lips were. Somethings never change.
We had been neighbors almost all of our lives. Harry had moved to the house right next to mine when he was 4, his thick British accent and his sweet face making him an easy target for bullies. Little did they know, the charming boy was going to have them all eating out of the palm of his hand in little to no time. Charming is what can describe Harry alright. With that only he could get whatever he wanted, even as little kids, swarms of little girls were after him, trying to get his attention, while the boys always were always trying to be friends with him, inviting him to play even if he sucked.
We had been friends in an instant, Harry and I, always running around our houses, and making a ruckus wherever we went. We were the worst, driving our mothers crazy with all the noise and games. That until Harry moved back to England when we were 13, with promises that we would keep in contact, but of course that didn't happen. We drifted apart, and it was ok, that's how things go.
And now we were here, 2 weeks after Harry's family had moved back to town, and he had transferred to the same college I was attending, trying to catch up on what had gone with our lives in the last 6 years. We were playing 20 questions, and I swear to God he had already made like 200. There was no way he still had 4 to go.
"Slimy Brad." He continued laughing, bringing his hand, big, big hand, to cover his mouth, and I couldn't help but notice the big anchor tattooed on his wrist. Actually, whenever I was around him in the last couple of days, my eyes continued drifting to his arms, where you could count a bunch of weird tattoos. They look so good on him. And you also could see he had been hitting the gym, but I'm not gonna talk about that. "Jesus, why?"
"It was a fucking dare!! I'm glad my suffering makes you happy, Styles." I groaned, remembering that awful July afternoon, when we were all playing "Truth or dare" in Nicole's house, a bunch of barely teens trying to act as if they were interested in anything other than kissing someone in the circle. Sadly, when the bottle landed in me, my designated partner was Brad, a kid with bright blue eyes and sandy hair that would've been cute if it wasn't for his saliva problem. That's the story of my sad first kiss, in the middle of a circle, with a boy that was just as nervous as me and that had tried to shove his tongue in my mouth, even when he had no idea what to do with it.
"That has to be the worst first kiss ever."
"Yes, I had to wipe my face off a couple of times until I could feel clean again." I shuddered at the memory, causing him to burst in laughter once again, almost falling out of the bed.
"Oh God." He said between fits of laugh, and whined when I threw a pillow to his face, hitting him right on his nose.
"What about yours?" I asked, grabbing the pillow from the floor and propping it up on the bed so I could rest on it.
"Eh, you were there, Sally Robbins, her birthday party." Yes, I recalled that. I recalled wanting to punch Sally afterwards as well. "Awful, just awful." He shook his head, shivering as if the memory only was enough to scare him. "Okay, let's see.....first time. Who was the lucky guy?"
