Irresistible (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

70: Snot, Silk, and Sparkle

^Harry juggling was one of the best things that happened last week and I needed it. Big thanks to whoever made that happen! You're an angel with juggling balls.

I have to say the last week or so has been a very trying one. On the one hand, I was working on such a fun tv shoot, met some really great people and learned so much, but, on the other hand, I had to deal with some mother drama that got me really down for all the times I wasn't distracted by work. I'm sorry I took a little extra time to write this chapter, I just needed to step back so my awful mood didn't affect our lovely Hia. But now I'm back and hopefully back to my regular schedule. Love you all!

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(A/N: For those who don't know Harry Lambert is Harry Styles' stylist, the magical talented man who is a major player in these beautiful creations we see Harry perform in at each concert. Because of the two Harry's, it might be a bit confusing but I'm going to make it as clear as possible. Enjoy.)

The door creaks open, the light from the hallway streaming into the dark room, showcasing the shadow of my lean tall man coming in to check on me. I hear his feet pad around the room getting closer and closer until they stop right next to where I lay on the bed.

At least I think he's right next to me, I have yet to open my eyes again.

"Come on sniffly. I've got you some tea and a nice fluffy blanket downstairs for you love."

I peak up at him, that bright smile of his nearly blinding me in my weathered and worn state.

"And tissues?"

"Boxes and boxes," Harry chuckles sweeping a stray hair that was sticking to my face behind my ear. "Come on, Harry's (Lambert) setting everything up. Just have to come downstairs."

I groan into the pillow, not because of Harry's request but rather because my nose is swollen and numb, my throat is sore and scratchy, and my muscles are screaming at me to just relax and rest.

But I can't because of the damn coughing, the occasional sneeze, and the periodical leaning over to grab a tissue and blow my nose.

I dread to think what the room looks like. At first, I tried to throw each tissue into the trash bin but there comes a point in every bout of exhausting sickness that you just lose all care and throw them wherever you arm decides.

Two days ago I woke up with the worst cold I have ever experienced. I tried to go back home, not wanting to get Harry sick, but he has me under house arrest. He wouldn't drive me home even though I think my argument was perfectly valid. He's a musician, a singer, and while he might not be performing for a few more months I still don't want to jeopardize that in any way.

He didn't seem to mind that at all. So I tried to sneak out with Hunter, who Harry has hired as my own personal security, which sounds absurd but when he told me it would give him some peace of mind even though no one knows who I am, I couldn't refuse him.

But that didn't work either. Harry had already got to him saying that I was to stay here unless I had a meeting with my editor which he knew I didn't have for another few days because I just had one two days ago.

I wish I hadn't gone because that's where I got this horrible cold. And people wonder why I'm not very social.

Yet another reason not to go out in public.

I roll over onto my back and lay there spread eagle under the thin sheet that's covering up my feverish body. Luckily the worst of it is over but now I'm left exhausted and in need of a nice long bath.

"Morning sunshine," Harry beams down at me.

He looks so beautiful and healthy, you would never have guessed that he's been living with a snorty sweaty mess like me for the last few days.