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oh hayyyy....

are you guys mad at me. 😶😶😶😶

you may need to reread 67 for a recap considering i kinda fell off the face of the earth...

//

Elaina Basset

"Zayn literally won't leave me alone, please just go talk to him." Angela pleads across Harry's kitchen counter, going on and on about Zayn as I make food.

We got back to Milan yesterday after they kept Harry overnight in the hospital. Since the word is out about our relationship, I figured I might as well stay at Harry's to take care of him. He's been instructed to rest for at least a few days, and now I won't need to make up an excuse to stay with him.

This also means that I haven't really talked to any of our friends. Zayn included. After his comments at the hospital, I've kept my distance.

"Why can't he come to me himself?" I shake my head in annoyance as I plate up a sandwich.

"Because he knows you don't want to talk to him." Angela follows me around the kitchen.

"He'd be right about that." I dismiss, heading for the stairs.

"Oh my god." Angela throws her hands up in frustration. "If you don't do something about this, then I will."

"Okay, Ang." I say, certain that she's bluffing. "I'm gonna go bring your brother his food now."

"Yeah, whatever." she huffs as she walks past me and heads for the front door.

I try to brush off the interaction as I walk up. I get why she's frustrated, being in the middle of a something so petty, but truthfully I'm not the one who asked her to get in the middle of it.

I'm standing my ground, Zayn can come to me himself.

I bring my hand up and use my knuckles to gently knock on Harry's ajar bedroom door. I hear him sigh and his muffled voice speaks into his pillow,

"What's the point of knocking?"

He's a bit grumpy.

He hasn't been able to do much except rest, which is making him restless, and he can't do anything about it, which is pissing him off. I get it.

"Trying to make sure you weren't naked." I respond.

"I'm your boyfriend, if you walk in on me naked then take it as an invitation to fuck."

I roll my eyes with a scoff as I enter the room. "No fucking while you're supposed to be resting. I made you a sandwich."

He pushes himself over so he's laying on his back now, a sour look on his face as he watches me walk in and sit on his bed next to him.

I hand him the plate, he looks at it briefly and then pouts his lip.

"You know, I'd much rather be eating you—"

"Shut up." I stop him.

He rolls his eyes in return. "I'm not hungry."

"Harry, you've barely eaten."

"I don't need food." He places the plate down on the bed next to him, laying on his side with his elbow propped up as his head rests on his palm. He looks at me with his eyes glazed over by desperation—a sultry gaze—while he extends his arm out to my thigh.

"I need to fuck you." his voice lowers to a whisper to come across as seductive...something that of course works wonders for me but I can't have sex with him when he's supposed to be healing.

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