Teenage Dirtbag (A Harry Styles FanFic)

Chapter 9

Elena’s POV:

            The next morning, I woke up with a heavy weight around my waist. Looking at it, I saw that Harry’s arm was wrapped around it. A blush rose on my cheeks as I gently put his arm down and carefully got out of the blanket bed we made without disturbing him. Standing up, I looked down at him. He looked so peaceful as he slept. Harry’s brown curly hair was covering his closed eyes, his pink lips slightly parted as he took steady breaths.

            My eyes then traveled over to the window, and they widened when I looked outside. The rain had stopped, and only a very slight breeze was blowing by. Everything was wet and the grass out was mushy. Some sunlight was making it’s way through the grey clouds as they moved. Running a hand through my hair, I walk over to the kitchen.

            “Morning, Luce,” I say as I see her back in the kitchen.

            She turns and smiles at me. “Morning, sweetie,” she says. “You and Harry looked really adorable,” she adds with a knowing smile.

            I blushed slightly, biting my bottom lip. “Don’t even go there, Lucy,” I chuckle nervously.

            Lucy looks at me, raising a brown eyebrow. “So you don’t fancy that boy?” she questions. “Not even a little bit?”

            “Lucy!” I exclaim, shushing her.

            “Ah, so you do fancy him,” she grins widely. “He’s a cute, nice young man.”

            “Not according to Dad,” I mumble.

            Lucy gives me a small smile. “Don’t let your father stop you from going after what you want. And I’m not just talking about boys.”

            Before I could question her, the door swung open and in walked a wide awake Harry already dressed. “Morning,” he says with a small smile, his voice deep and husky. “I’m gonna head out now.”

            “Don’t you want some breakfast, dear?” Lucy asks him.

            Harry shakes his head. “No thank you,” he says politely. “I need to go and see if my mum and sister are okay.” Lucy and I nod and I follow him out towards the door. Once he has his stuff, he walks out the door but turns around to look at me. “Thanks for letting me stay, Carter,” he smirks.

            I raise an eyebrow. “Whatever happened to ‘Little Miss Perfect’?” I chuckle.

            His smirk widens. “Would you rather have me call you that?” he asks, hoisting his school bag properly on his shoulder.

            “I don’t care anymore,” I chuckle. “Call me either.”