Fifty Shades of Him (h.s. au)

X

"Fucking dick," Miles says, my body curled onto his couch, tea in hand.

"Then he had the nerve to blame it on me. I'm so upset but I'm all cried out," I say, breaking a stressed laugh at the end.

"Just stay here until everything is clear. I'm here for you," he smiles, giving me a hug. I return it and I decline yet another call from Harry, his attempts making me mad. I have replied to Grace's texts asking me why he's calling her as well, and she understood as soon as I told her.

My head falls onto the pillow and I curl into a ball, closing my eyes. I'm so tired and scared, my eyes burning at the exhaustion. Miles places an aspirin on the table and I thank him, his head nodding. After swallowing the small pain reliever, I close my eyes and drift off into sleep.

A deep pounding at the door jolts me from my sleep, the clock on the wall reading 7 in the evening. My eyes blink a few times and I walk towards the door, Miles beating me to it.

"Why the hell are you here? How did you even find my house?" Miles says, my body moving to the side.

"Grace said she was not here so I looked you up and found where you live. Where is Reagan?" Harry strains, clearly tired as well. He sounds upset.

"Why? What happened?" Miles fakes, my body sliding down the wall as I hear Harry's response.

"I said the wrong thing and need to talk to her. Please, if you know where she is," Harry says, my heart slightly swooning at his voice. If only he was amazing Harry all the time.

"I can't help you," Miles says, my head shaking. He flickers his gaze over to me and Harry immediately starts questioning him.

"What are you looking at? Is she here?" he asks, Miles opening the door. Harry stumbles in and he looks around, spotting me with frantic eyes.

"Reagan," he sighs, my body lifted quickly by his hands.

"Thank you Miles," I tell him, his lips curved into a grin.

"Anytime," he says, my body standing in front of Harry's as we walk out of Miles' house. The door shuts and Harry drapes his leather jacket over my shoulders, his navy polo hanging over his jeans.

"I need to talk to you," he says, my head nodding. I'm still speechless, not knowing what to say around him. I'm afraid the wrong thing will be said.

I'm set in the passenger's seat of his car, his hands driving us back to his home. The silence is unbearable and the tension could be cut with a knife. It takes us the whole drive and into his living room to finally hear words. From him, of course.

"I'm sorry I spoke such horrible things to you. It was completely out of line and there was so much going on in my mind. Please forgive me," he says, my eyes falling from his.

Why does he have to be completely beautiful? His charm captivates me every time and I feel myself lured back in.

"Why would you say those things to me? It hurt so badly," I tell him, his hands shoving my sleeves up. My eyes watch as he raises my arms and kisses the underside of my forearm, my lips parting in awe at his gentleness.

"Because I was jealous and I-I've never dealt with the matter before. Please," he whispers, his fingers running along my cheek. My throat struggles to take a breath in, my chest heaving slightly at the internal conflict currently residing in my head.

"Reagan, I get that I made you upset. I, unknowingly yet purposefully, hurt you and I'm so sorry."

His fingers move down to my waist, his hands pulling me closer to him.