Caught in a Lie ~ h.s.

♕ VI ♕

♕♕♕

"This is crazy. Absolutely mad."

A mischievous smirk appears across Harry's heart-shaped lips as he digs through his impossibly tight pockets to find just the item he's been looking for. Meanwhile, I'm following in his footsteps, my heart beating erratically and my mind growing fuzzy with all the drinks I've consumed tonight and the exhilaration coursing through me in this moment.

A lot had happened since being on that rooftop.

After an hour talking on top of Tommy's Pub, I decided that I wanted to do more exploring, because that's why I was here. I hadn't escaped my home for a quiet evening on the roof of some pub, no matter how beautiful and wonderful it was. One drink had turned into two and whilst the alcohol wasn't prominent enough to give me a true buzz I still felt delusional with anticipation and giddy.

We walked along the Thames, hand in hand like an old married couple; ran across Tower Bridge taking selfies like the millenials we are; took a taxi to Trafalgar Square where I climbed the lions, slightly buzzed from the drinks we consumed at a local pub I begged Harry to take me into; and finally stumbled over to Piccadilly Circus so I could marvel at all the bright lights and night crawling tourists. After making fools out of ourselves under the blinding lights, Harry got us into a club where he new the owner.

Obviously, I'd never been to a club before so it was an exhilarating and eye opening experience for me. I'd seen films and read books about them, but nothing can compare to the real thing. Nothing can truly describe the undeniable heat that radiates from the hundreds of sweating bodies dancing drunkenly together. Nothing can compare to the smells of alcohol and sweat mixing with the sweet scents of perfumes and colognes, creating a headache inducing stench that lingers for hours. Nothing can prepare you for the sight of young adults snogging and practically making babies on the dance floor and in the more "private" booths. But as shocking as everything was, I can't deny the fun we had there.

We got drunk. Okay, I got really drunk. I don't drink often, so my tolerance is lower than average meaning I didn't have to consume much before I was stumbling around, bumping into others, and giggling. As far as I could tell Harry was pretty drunk too, but not nearly as gone as I. We spent hours drinking, laughing at nonsense we were yelling to each other, and dancing like horny teenagers who couldn't help our hormones and grabbing, greedy hands. But by three hours of chaos we decided to ditch the scene for a quiet break, hence our current location outside Harry's Bethnal Green flat.

"You don't seem like you're complaining." He laughs spinning around from the door to turn right into me. Both of our chests, pressed together, are rising and falling at a rapid place, proving that we indeed did just run up five flights of stairs. I'm hot, the heat between us radiating as he stands so close; I fear if he touches me I'll simply melt away into oblivion.

"Who said anything about complaining? I'm merely stating that this is crazy, especially for me." My voice comes out in a whisper, my breath fanning up against his chin. So, so bloody hot.

There's no denying the sexual tension between us, especially in a moment like this. I'm no virgin, but I also don't throw myself at men just to get a fix. My libido is high when faced with an attractive specimen of the opposite sex, who's not only hot but also smart, funny, and kind, and Harry checks all those boxes. I want him, as much as I shouldn't, I do. I'm willing to risk everything just to get a piece of him.

"Open the door." Another smirk lines his scrumptious pink lips as he fumbles blindly with the handle of the door behind him. After a couple tries the door pops open, causing us to fall in through the doorway into the warm confines of his place.