Giving {H.S Vampire Fanfiction}

A Bad Cliche

I really hope that Wattpad decides to not be a pain in the butt when I upload this chapter...

Sorry it took so long, but my computer was infected and I couldn't upload anything. It also didn't help that Wattpad erased half of my story. So this is the hastily rewritten version that isn't as good as the first one.

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I figured out that with Harry, sparring can get you into some... interesting positions.

I hadn't even seen his foot come from underneath me, but it wouldn't have even done any good. I would have been as powerless to stop it as I already had been before. My feet slipped out from underneath me and my body went tumbling down onto the faded mat that was soon becoming coated with sweat.

I immediately felt the soreness set into my muscles as a loud thud echoed around me, that ache spreading throughout my arms and back. We had been going at it for nearly a half hour and I realized just how out of practice I was from all of my training, my movements more hesitant and not as accurate.

It was that or Harry was just really good.

I could tell that he considered this to be a sort of game with me, but beneath the playfulness, I could see that wild intensity that is only found in the eyes of pros, people who have seen things. It was like he treasured the sweat that beaded up on his brow or the rug burn that came from repeated tackles. I had to constantly remind myself that this was his job, his life, not just a hobby.

But as I continued to spar with Harry, I picked up on a few things that differentiated him from other fighters I'd gone against. He always took around five seconds to recover from a kick with his left leg, five seconds bought to fit in a punch. His forest eyes would scrunch in concentration when he was zeroing in on his next target, his eyebrows narrowing down his forehead. Harry tended to catch his opponents in a lock of some kind before sending them tumbling to the ground at his feet.

His left arm would always tense up right before a punch, the ship inked onto his skin rippling for a fraction of a second and it was a constant distraction. How could I not stare when Harry was wearing a sleeveless shirt that only defined his arms even more, making my face even more heated than it already was?

But I was lying on the floor, fighting off the fatigue and going to rise on my feet to continue when a force crashed down onto me. It wasn't as if it was a very violent hit, but it sent my back flat back down on the mat and a large weight rested itself on my abdomin.

It was then that I realized Harry Styles was in a straddle position over my body.

My face flushed further, my whole body erupting with little flutters as I mulled over just how this looked to anyone passing by. Harry looked quite comfortable where he was, though, almost amused as well.

I knew that I was pinned to the floor and there was not even a miniscule chance that I would be able to escape out from under him, but that didn't mean I wouldn't try. It was futile, though, as I desperately fought against his hands that had my arms pinned above my head and his feet that were above my legs and restricting any of my movement. Only my abdomin had the ability to move and it wasn't doing much good.

I let out a loud groan, throwing my head back with my eyes closed, thankful that the mat was cushioned beneath my skull. I tried bringing my knees up to hit him in his shin, but it was as if my feet were glued in place and wouldn't cooperate with the actions of the rest of my legs.

It also didn't help how vulnerable I felt with my arms locked above my head and no way to protect myself. I felt so... exposed this way, my arms always there to help me cover myself.