𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋! | harry styles

𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈

THE kiss is fast and chaste, and although it's obvious Harry wasn't expecting it, for a split second I feel his lips against mine, and everything feels right in the world.

I pull away quickly, pressing my hand to my mouth as heat flashes up my neck and into my cheeks. I can't decide if it's from embarrassment or excitement.

I can't look at him, so I look at the floor instead. I can't bear to see the look on his face, the one that says I've made a mistake. "I'm so sorry," I whisper shakily, looking at my feet, at a place on the wall beside him, anywhere but right at him. "I don't know…I didn't…" I let out a long, slow breath.

Harry is quiet. And I know he's always quiet, but right now all I want is for him to say something—anything—and he doesn't. So like the masochist I am I look up at him, because not looking at him feels worse, and who knows, after what just happened it might be the last time I get to see him up close.

His jaw is tight but his eyes are bright, focused on me with enough intensity to send my pulse slamming against the back of my tongue. My cheeks flame. I want the earth to open up and swallow me right here. I want to press rewind on the remote. Looking away, I hold the front door open and wait as Harry steps out into the hallway. When he turns, his eyes find mine again and the burn of embarrassment singes my insides. I have to avert my eyes lest I burst into flames right here in my apartment.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" I try to sound confident, but the fact that I can't even bear to look at him makes it hard.

He nods, eyes hard, and I close the door.

The door isn't closed all the way when the sound of his palm slamming against the wood echoes down the hallway, and I can feel him pressing against the other side, urging it open. The hinges creak as it opens again, and all it takes is two of his long strides and Harry is back in the apartment, his lips pressed firmly against mine in a kiss that knocks the breath right out of me.

All I can smell and taste and feel is him. His mouth is slow but insistent, like he's taking his time. It makes my knees tremble and my hands shake. His kiss makes me feel like every kiss I've had before this one has been wrong, and this—this is so right.

He moves impossibly closer, and when his mouth opens a little, the taste of him and the pressure of his tongue against mine are enough to send my brain into overload. It's like all the tiny pieces that have been holding me together for so long begin to unravel and unfurl like a roll of ribbon. I feel like I'm falling apart.

Harry pulls away a little but my lips chase his, seeking more as my fingers press into the back of his neck to bring him closer. The muscles in his shoulders relax as I mold my body to his, and while his lips are gentle, maybe even a little hesitant, his hands are firm against my hips as he holds me to him. The soft press of his lips in contrast with the grip of his hands at my hips consumes me. He consumes me. His kisses are everything and I can't even feel the ground beneath my feet. All I feel is Harry.

We're both breathing hard when he pulls away, and his warm breath rushes over my lips as he presses his forehead to mine. I don't want to open my eyes for fear he'll disappear like a dream. Instead, I slide a hand from his shoulder to his chest, where the beat of his racing heart against my palm reminds me he's real.

My eyes are still closed when a moment later—without a word—he kisses me once more, pressing his lips lightly to the spot just beside my mouth. He steps back like it's nothing, while I'm left unable to remember my name or what my life was like before he kissed me.

I don't open my eyes until I hear the quiet click of the front door, and even then I spend ten minutes staring at the space in front of me with my fingers pressed to my lips, the skin tingling like little rivers of electricity under my fingers. On jelly-like legs I drift through the apartment in a daze, turning off the lights and slipping into bed, not even bothering to change out of my clothes. When my head hits the pillow I'm sure I won't sleep, that memories of Harry's lips pressed against mine will keep me awake. But when, hours later, I wake to the sight of sunlight peeking in beneath my curtains, I feel like I've slept for days.