Ambition || Harry Styles

*33*

My Saturday is not my typical one. I haven't cleaned the house, haven't taken a long shower, haven't gone to work. 

Instead, I have stayed wrapped in the warmth of my sheets, taking comfort in their shelter, willing my mind to forget the head spinning feeling of Harry's lips on mine last night and the crushing reality of it being an act.

It was only a while ago I was telling Katie that this relationship could be purely physical, entertaining the thought of simply sleeping with this man and satisfying my curiosity. How naive I was.

Now that I've had a taste, the feelings are multiplying, suffocating me as I cry into my duvet and wish I never flirted with the idea of allowing him to make Adam jealous.

After feeling what I did last night, the way my heart burst when he touched me, how my skin burned as he held me, the breath that left my lungs when we kissed, I know that I am undeniably in love with Harry.

Now that I know what his lips feel like, taste like, the cruel devastation of him not being mine is crashing over me like a tidal wave and I can only gasp for air as the next crash hits me.

The flood gates have opened to the emotions I keep buried so far deep they usually have no chance of surfacing however, since tasting the forbidden fruit, I feel worse than ever.

Kissing Harry is like giving a starving man a bite but then taking away the rest of his meal, hunger and desire taking over all senses and driving you a little mad.

I know it's not warranted, this isn't a break up, he was never mine, yet I still feel rejected, pathetic and a little inadequate. Why doesn't he want me? How did I get myself into the position that I care?

Dragging myself out of bed eventually, I shower quickly only to put on another set of pyjamas, hooking my fingers around my covers and take them with me to the couch. I curl my legs up underneath me and distract my frantic mind with hours of DVDs that Harry had sent to my office after the first time he came here.

My focus is constantly interrupted with Harry's persistent calling, leaving dozens of messages asking if I'm okay, wondering why I left so suddenly last night and inviting me to have breakfast, then lunch and then dinner, finally begging me to watch a movie with him tonight.

I text him back each time telling him I'm fine just busy, lying about being at work and not able to talk although I know it's blindingly obvious that I'm avoiding him.

At about 8pm, and a staggering number of calls and messages I finally answer my ringing phone.

"Hey," I say with as little emotion as I can, knowing that if I let even a tiny amount out there will be no stopping the flood.

"Hi my little busy bee!" he sings and I don't know what I expected, but his voice, chirpy and cheerful as if nothing has happened, was not it.

My chest is rising and falling with pent up emotion as I try to swallow the frustrated tears that are threatening to release without warning.

There's a bizarre feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach for lying to him about my actions of the day and yet still his voice is having an effect on me that overwhelms me with sorrow.

I swallow hard and the tiniest of sobs shamefully escapes from the back of my throat and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying to God that he didn't notice.

"Lex?" his voice softens with concern.

I tilt my head towards the ceiling, taking a couple of long, shaky breaths in, in an attempt to calm myself down.

"Shit," Harry exhales after a silence that lasted far too long.