𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋! | harry styles

𝐗𝐈

A cold wind whips through the windows of Harry's Mustang, sending my hair fluttering around my face. Outside it's sunny and the sky is bright blue and crystal clear, the light just bright enough to warm my face. Cody and I are rugged up in our thickest winter coats, and even though it's a little chilly out, the cold air feels great against my skin. Harry's hand rests comfortably on the gear shift beside me, his long fingers flexing and relaxing as he moves through the gears. I'm not sure what it is about his arms, or his forearms and hands in particular, but the thought of reaching over and touching the fine hair there sends a shot of warmth through my body and an unexpected wave of desire deep into my stomach.

I can't believe that just the idea of reaching across to hold his hand is enough to set my heart racing. I basically touch people for a living, but I can't remember the last time I welcomed the touch of skin against mine, the last time I craved the feeling of another person.

Oblivious, Harry sits in the driver's seat while I stare out the passenger side window wondering what the touch of his fingers against my skin would feel like.

What his skin might smell like.

What his lips would taste like.

"Sorry for falling asleep last night," he says, glancing at my hands as they lie clenched in my lap.

My cheeks warm when he looks at me and I feel like I've been caught, like my feelings are written all over my face. "Are you kidding?" I manage to say, trying to blink away the inappropriate images from behind my eyes. "Don't be sorry. That sofa is so uncomfortable I feel like I should be apologizing to you."

Harry lifts his shoulder in that lazy shrug he's so good at. "It's not that bad."

"You did look comfortable," I admit, remembering his long, lean form stretched out on my sofa.

His lips turn up into the faintest of smiles, and he laughs. "I've definitely slept in worse places."

"Still," I add, "I feel bad that you have to sleep on my crappy couch when you could be in bed." I glance at Cody in the back, sitting quietly, watching the world whizz by. "Seriously. You should let me know when you need a night off. The Eizadi's are more than happy to take him."

Beside me, Harry nods, his fingers tapping to the beat of the music playing on the radio. "You did already mention that."

"I know," I say, leaning forward to warm my fingers in front of the heater vents, "but I'm running out of things to cook for you, and it doesn't feel right you looking after Cody every single weekend."

Harry looks over at me as the car rolls to a stop at a stop sign, his green eyes hidden behind dark glasses. "If I said I'll think about it, would that make you happy?"

I smile. "Yes."

With a satisfied nod, he turns back to the road and the car rolls forward. "Good."

I've come to accept that Harry is not a man of many words. He talks when he wants to, and thinks carefully about what he says, like every word might cost him something. But, as few and far between as his words are, I find myself hanging on each and every one, wanting for more.

I don't ask him where we're going or what we're doing. The smell of the clean fresh air mixed with the pleasure of being in his company is enough.

With no place to be and no plans to keep, we spend the morning driving around the city. Harry takes us through the industrial areas, where he puts his foot to the floor making Cody giggle as the engine roars and the wind whips in the windows. We coast down to the docks, where the huge container ships sit waiting to be loaded, and even out to the beach, where Cody, Harry, and I take a walk along the deserted pier.