Nowhere In Particular // H.S.

Seven: Cigarettes

Harry's body is pressed against mine as we kneel in front of the window, peeking our eyes through the blinds. His hands grip the side of my arms tightly and his fingertips, which pad to an unknown rhythm, feel rough against my skin. His chin rests on my shoulder and I feel him breathing slowly into my ear, it's warm but manages to send shivers down my spine. I swear I'm about to explode, everything inside me feels like it's on fire, and his repetitive breaths tickling my neck feels more like a ticking time bomb for that explosion than anything else.

"Just look at him," he whispers, his voice rough.

I nod my head, looking at the "large creepy man" outside our window. He is a bit intimidating if I'm being honest. His arm muscles are nearly twice the side of my head but I don't know if I'd classify him as creepy. Besides the fact that he's standing directly outside our room, he's minding his own business. I have a feeling this is just a game to Harry, one that I have no choice but to play along with. Not that I would ever dream of doing otherwise, games are fun.

I can't even exactly tell you how we got into this position, how Harry managed to get this close to me or how I haven't completely melted into a puddle because of it, but I don't think I could move if I wanted to, trapped between him and the wall.

His closeness is different for me. I haven't experienced this sort of touch with anyone I've ever met before. He has no problem being within inches of me, so close that I can feel his body heat radiating into mine, so close that I feel like I should be able to read his mind. Although, I'm sure the butterflies in my stomach would prevent me from being able to do anything close to that.

It wouldn't seem so strange, a good kind of strange, if this was happening after years of knowing him. That isn't the case though, we only just met. In reality he shouldn't feel this comfortable around me and I shouldn't feel this okay with his closeness.

But I am.

"I bet that's his plan," he whispers again, digging his chin into my shoulder. "He's trying to pollute us with second hand smoke, trying to poison us."

I can't help but laugh, breathing out as I do. Harry's serious tone gives me the impression that he is legitimately concerned by this man and his plan to contaminate our lungs, but when I turn my head to look at him he's grinning at me widely and it confirms my earlier thought.

This is just a game.

"So what do we do," I ask quietly, leaning closer to the window to get a better look at the man outside, he has to be on his third cigarette by now. "What's the plan, Styles?"

"He isn't the main objective here," he begins, still holding onto me tightly, not letting up. "There is a much bigger mission, he's just an obstacle."

"An obstacle?"

"Yes," he responds quickly. "Now you're positive you don't know any karate?"

"Positive."

He hums in my ear, disappointed by the answer. Then I feel him laugh, shaking my shoulder with his movements. He pushes back, no longer holding me in toward the window and I slowly turn around on my knees to see him standing in front of me.

"Well, let's get to it then," he nods down and I stand up next to him.

"You're not going to tell me what we're doing?"

"No," he smiles. "But here's what you're going to do," he turns me so we're facing the door. "You are going to walk out there, maybe give him a little eye contact, you know scare him a little. Doubt that's going to work because you might be the nicest looking person I've ever met... but I have faith in you, Greta!