Blowing Smoke (Harry Styles)

Chapter 61

Harry stirred lightly beside me for a few minutes before he awoke, sitting up fully in the bed. He looked around in confusion of his surroundings for a split second before he realized where he was, his shoulders relaxing.

“M-morning.” I mumbled, my voice slightly hoarse from not speaking in hours. I shut To Kill A Mockingbird, setting it down on the bedside table adjacent to my side of the bed.

“Did you sleep?” Harry asked, his voice raspier than usual. His hair was tousled awkwardly from sleeping, his lips swollen, and his eyes heavy.

“No. I slept on the p-plane, remember?”

“Yeah. I just figured you sleep.”

I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders and then got off the delicately soft mattress to put the book back into the bookshelf, just in its rightful place. I let the book nestle close between its neighbouring novels before sauntering off to the washroom for a quick shower.

“Where are you going?” Harry’s voice stopped me.

“Shower.” I said simply over my shoulder before walking into the vintage style washroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. The bathroom was still breathtaking. The walls, a kind cream colouring, with small little pink flowers blooming from the edges of the wallpaper. It was a simple and yet very elegant floral pattern.

I undressed from my travelling clothes, leaving them lazily on the tweed-like rug, and stepped into the seemingly ancient shower. I stared at the shower, puzzled for a few moments, before I figured out how to get the warm water jetting out from the rusted showerhead with a cry and series of squeals.

The warm water was rejuvenating against my skin, opening my pores. I stood beneath the water, palms pressed to the cool tiles within the shower, letting the water run down my face, clinging tightly to the skin. With my eyes sealed shut, I stood there, letting out a happy sigh.

I grabbed a hold onto the complementary shampoo bottle, of which I was unaware of the brands existence, opened it and squeezed out the light blue gel into my slightly cupped palm. I massaged the gel into my scalp, lifting up my hair off my shoulders and back into a big mess of foam on top of my head.

I giggled.

Maybe it was because I felt childish to put up my hair in such a fashion as I did, or maybe because I was just so utter happy with the vacation. I didn’t know. But I giggled anyway.

I was ecstatic to feel the sand beneath my feet, to feel the sun shimmer against my tan skin, to hear the waves, to smell the ocean, to surf again. I was ready to surf again. I knew I could do it. I knew that I would be able to stand up on that board and ride as many waves as my heart desired without worry of sharks. It was almost as if I was over it, I was over that part of my life that I grasped way too tightly onto. I was a new woman. The scar was now a distant story, not one that ruled my life in any way.

Running my fingers through the C-shape that indented deep into my ribs, I felt a change in my perspective. And it was exquisite. The feeling of the imprinted baby-soft flesh did not bring the usual feeling of displeasure that it usually did.

Maybe Harry was the reason that I was getting better with my issues. Ever since he came romantically into my life, I became much more confident in myself; carrying myself much better and higher than before. I was very thankful to him if he was the reason for my newfound confidence.

When I was done with my shower, fully cleansed myself, I stepped out, grabbing a very long white towel off the rack. I wrapped it around my dripping wet body, drying myself off with it. I then quickly put in a light tampon since my period was ending, rewrapping myself in the warmth of the towel.