Fake Fiancée

23. Moments

23. Moments

      “You know I’ll be, your life, your voice, your reason to be. My love, my heart, is breathing for this moment in time, I’ll find the words to say, before you leave me today.” – One Direction (bet that hit right in the feels)

   Andie

 

        I never knew what safe haven felt like. I was always one to not trust my surroundings because I just never felt safe, and that was even when my mom was around. Deep inside, I always knew something like this would happen, and I always knew or somehow felt that when she left that would be my time to find a safe haven.

    I just never thought it would be Harry.

Harry Styles, for god’s sake. Harry the pop star, the teenage heartthrob, the player had taken me in his home and treated me as if I was the most fragile thing he had ever met. And for the first time in forever, I actually felt like I truly did have a safe haven now. He was my safe haven.

   But even with all the great moments, came the bad. Like the way Harry acted as if I was incapable of going outside, or cooking – he thought I was going to burn both myself and his apartment down – or even calling Luke, which I had no idea what the reason was.

       I just felt like the past few days have been so relaxing, and refreshing, well most of the time because Harry and I got into so many arguments because of his stubbornness and mine. Like last time, when I wanted to go to one of his shows and he refused, saying:

  “I just don’t think you should go, all our friends will be there, and are you really ready to face them all?” He groaned, and put more sugar into the bowl. We were baking brownies, and although the recipe clearly said sugar wasn’t necessary, he insisted upon adding it because he claims he ‘knew what he was doing’.  

  I grabbed the sugar from his hands and put it down, eyeing him seriously, “you’re acting like they’re monsters who will devour me as soon as they see me.” I retorted with a smile.

  He rolled his eyes and shrugged, spreading the butter on the pan with his hands. “They might,”

  I slapped his arm, “don’t use your hands!” I exclaimed. “That’s gross.”

 He rose an eyebrow, “I could use something else,” he smirked, and at first I didn’t get it but when I did, my eyes widened so much they hurt. I grabbed one of the spoons and began smacking him.

  “You,” I smacked, “disgusting,” I continued hitting, “weirdo.” I laughed along the way, just as he did and then suddenly, his arm snaked around my waist. A small breath left my lips and I could feel his fingers sink softly into my skin as he brought me closer to him. Emotion crossed his eyes before a smirk took its place, and then his hand cupped my cheek.

  I felt my entire body tense up, as if the numbness I had been feeling for what seems like ages now had disappeared for that one, small second, and which he leaned closer to my face and whispered, “I may be a weirdo, but you sure do love it.”

  And I felt my heart skip a beat when his gaze dropped to my lips, and a frown overtook his face as he leaned in even closer, as if he wanted to experiment something. But just before his lips could touch mine I slightly turned away. “Stop trying to change the subject,” I whispered, avoiding his eyes and his hand left my waist.

He took a step back, “right,” he coughed. “You’re not going.”

  I groaned in frustration and dug my hands into my hair, my cheeks were still pink from the moment we just had and even though I knew my heart and my brain were debating right now, the fact that I’ve been in here without leaving for nearly a week is covering it all. “Harry I need to breathe.” I nearly sighed.