The Short Stories of Harry Styles

In The Garden of Good and Evil: Part 3

When I finally came to, I was lying in my bed. I sat upright, blinking away the edges of the nightmare I'd just had, and looked around my room. A quick glance over at the alarm clock sitting beside my bed showed that it was in fact two o'clock in the afternoon...not in the morning. In disbelief, I went to grab for my phone in my back pocket and felt mud and dirt all over the back of my jeans. Well shit.

"Sleeping beauty awakes." A deep voice sarcastically mumbled from across the room.

Sitting in my arm chair was Harry, who looked too tall to be sitting in the small velvet chair. I rubbed my head and eyes and then remembered what I had assumed was a nightmare...had actually occurred earlier this morning. I felt my pulse sky rocket and I stole a quick glance at Harry before I made to run to my bathroom. Immediately I was pinned down to my bed by two very strong arms.

"Now, now Ophelia. Why the sudden rush? I can hear your pulse you know." No I did not know this particular detail.

"Get off of me." I half whispered as I struggled to pull my arms free of his grip. He smirked down at me and I recognized the pulsing sensation running through my body wherever his was touching mine. I looked up at him and suddenly felt oddly calm. His eyes were the typical green and his cinnamon scent cascaded around me as his hair continued to fall forward like water pouring from a fountain. I hadn't realized that I had been leaning up towards him until I felt his warmth was gone. When I realized I was able to move again, I sat myself up on my elbows and looked across the room to see Harry pressed against the back of my bedroom door breathing heavily. His eyes were starting to turn into that bright blue green I began to associate with danger.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I watched him go through what looked like pain.

"I could ask you the same thing." He spoke but it sounded forced, like he was holding something back.

"When you touch me, do you feel something?" I asked quietly and waited for him to gather himself before answering. Still pressed against my bedroom door, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible, Harry said, "Yes...I do."

"Well what does it mean?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. I've never felt anything quite like it." This both horrified and pleased me.

"What do you think it is?"

"Besides your innate desire to get yourself killed? No idea." This made me roll my eyes. Harry looked at me with a mixture of trepidation and intrigue, his eyes focused on my every move.

"I'm not trying to get myself killed," I stammered as I got up off the bed and walked towards my bathroom.

"Well keep giving me sex eyes and you'll see what I mean." I supposed he meant to say that to himself from the low tone in which he spoke but his voice was clear as day.

I immediately stuck my head outside of my bathroom to see that he was now sitting on my bed, again trying to keep as much distance between us as he could.

"I wasn't making sex eyes!" I yelled at him embarrassingly. A smirk found its way onto Harry's perfect mouth again and I felt my heart rate pick up again.

"You're doing it now love."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are. It's fine I understand, I'm a handsome lad, I've seen myself a couple of times in the mirror, I get the fascination. Understand though, that you and I cannot," he pointed between either of us, " 'do it' as the kids say these days...or is it 'bang'?....yes...we can't 'bang'." I was now mortified. The hottest guy on Earth was telling me he wasn't attracted to me. Could this day get any worse?