FINE LINE | HARRY STYLES

TWENTY-FIVE.

MARCH, 2019. CONT.

Mornings with River are always too fast. It's never morning sex or shower sex or anything close to it. It was usually just: wake up, kiss, shower, and eat breakfast.

Then we went on our separate ways.

I'm fucking frustrated.

Leave it to me to be in a serious, long term relationship and still not get dick.

River's shy. I get that. I understand. I'm not going to be that shitty girlfriend that just shames someone for not being as sexually charged as I am. 

But now, it's getting irritating. We've been together for some time now and he still walks out of the room when I'm half naked. He still turns me away when I hint at getting down and dirty.

It's like he doesn't want me that way which is beginning to make me feel insecure.

Am I not good enough?

Today, I have a day off. And this morning, he had an hour to kill.

As soon as I straddled him, he muttered something about having to pay some bills and pushed me off of him.

He doesn't even pay the bills himself.

He left twenty minutes ago. I'm sitting at the counter, staring at my half eaten waffles that are drenched in too much syrup.

I swear if I don't do something soon, I'll explode or have an ulcer.

So, I decide to take matters into my own hands. It's all I can do.

So, here I am, in my robe, with nothing under. I stare in the mirror for a moment, studying myself.

He's so missing out.

No one can pass this body up.

I am a bad bitch.

Totally.

I huff and throw myself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. I lie there for a moment to think about how I want to go about this.

My mind begins to eventually wander. Goes down to that deep dark place that just gets me going.

And within seconds, my hand is wandering down my chest to my navel. I shiver as I swirl my fingers around down there to get things started.

My back arches at the familiar pleasure, and I begin to press my fingers deeper and deeper. I curl them and moan, letting the knots in my stomach get tighter.

I'm getting into it now.

So into it, I don't hear the sound of the bedroom door opening.

And it's not until a strained "Oh fuck!" exits Harry's lips before he shuts the door again.

My eyes widen in shock and fear as I scramble up, tightening my robe and scrambling up off the bed to run after him.

He's in the living room, his head in his hands as he shakes his head.

"Harry..." I pant out.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know..."

"No way you could have known."

"I was just coming over to return the book you let me borrow and maybe chat. But um...maybe I should leave you alone." He clears his throat awkwardly.

"No, that's okay. We can still talk."

Harry sits down on the couch and looks up at me, his eyes scanning my body.