Ghost Writer [Harry Styles][H.S. Fanfic]

12 - GOT IT IN YOU

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Realization hits me like a freight train, and I abruptly sit upright, cursing under my breath. It catches their attention and they instantly look confused.

"Sorry. I-Uh... I just remembered I forgot something. Carry on," I say, reclining back as I chew on the inside of my cheek, and shut my eyes, trying to take some deep breaths.

I do a few small exercises that my cardiologist taught me, to regulate my heart rate when I'm in a pinch, rubbing the arteries on the side of my neck, plugging my nose while trying to push air out and hooking my fingers together while pulling in the opposite direction; but the sound of my phone dinging pulls me from my task at hand.

How am I getting texts out here?

I unlock the screen and grow more confused on how I'm connected to Wi-Fi, but I just chalk it up to Harry probably connecting to it before he gave it back.

When I open my message app, low and behold, the nickname I gave him has been newly added to my contacts with an adorable picture of him snarling sitting right there at the top with an unread text in the inbox.

CURLY: "What's wrong? You look flushed, and I can literally see the vein in your neck pulsing from over here.

I glance between Louis and Niall to make sure they aren't paying any attention, because let's be real... two people texting back and forth when they're right next to each other is not very inconspicuous; but luckily they were too busy bickering to give a damn.

ME: "I'm a dipshit. That's what's wrong. Was too concerned with running late that I forgot to take my meds. I'm overheating and having palpitations."

ME: "Don't worry, I haven't missed the irony of this situation, BEING ON A DAMN BOAT and all! But it's cool... I'm fine. Not stressing out... much."

This is how I handle stress... inappropriate and misplaced humor.

It's super healthy, let me tell you.

CURLY: "I know I'm about 10 seconds from getting an 'Are you fucking kidding me' glare, but you're in a black tank with dark jeans and an overshirt... you need to cool down, and you won't dressed in that."

As if right on cue, I send him that fucking glare. He nods with a tight smile, almost like it was in satisfaction for knowing me well enough to call me out before he goes back to texting.

CURLY: "THERE IT IS. Glad to know this doesn't affect your sass... But listen, I get you don't want people to see... however, I'm more worried about your health. Tell them to piss off if you want, but don't make yourself worse because you're hellbent on hiding your scar."