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LOUIS' POV

right now i'm looking myself in the mirror hating myself from twelve hours ago. i was very right, future me will hate me.

dark purple and pink marks litter my body. my neck, chest, and stomach. that motherfucker takes every opportunity to piss me off.

he definitely did this on purpose. to see me squirm and get antsy. i'm going to have to wear a jumper all the time now. granted it's january, it won't be that bad. i still should get a choice in the matter.

there is no way in hell i'm going out like this. all because i slept with harry. worst decision of my life. most definitely won't happen again - at least i hope so.

after ten minutes of whining in front on the mirror i retreat back to my room where i will be haunted by the shit that happened in here, now i take my phone and text harry's number.

me : get here now.

i wait a few minutes until i get a text back saying :

harry : thought it wouldn't happen again? omw.

i rolled my eyes, moving to the living room to waste time until he gets here. turning on some reality show, i gather up the mess spread across the living room. he's been here before but i feel the need for my flat to look nice now.

after picking up the stray magazines and old chip bags i sit back down just in time for harry to walk in - without knocking.

"you do know you don't actually live here right?" i say to him.

he walks around the couch to sit on the arm chair to the left of the living room, "i bet you're really down about it too." he fake pouts.

he crosses his legs, getting really comfortable.

rolling my eyes, "you fuckin' marked me up!" i explain. now taking notice to all the bruises on his neck he made no effort to hide.

he's wearing a dark blue button up - only a few are buttoned - and black jeans. showing off the marks.

he shrugs his shoulders, "don't act like you didn't enjoy it." an awkward tension has been over us ever since he got here now addressing the situation at hand it seems to get worse.

i start to tug on my sweats i have on, feeling weird talking about what we did. i'm not ashamed, never have been. but i feel wrong knowing i enjoyed it and he knows it too.

i feel like i shouldn't have. i think i should have hated every second of it and never want to do it again.

but that's it. i loved it. it was great. and i hate that i want it to happen again. but i won't let it. besides i don't want to give him the satisfaction. he probably tried his best. i bet he's sloppy any other time. trying to show off and prove me wrong, on my assumptions he sucks in bed.

i was most definitely wrong, again he won't know that.

my nervous ticks are getting somewhat worse around him. i'm always on edge. but now that we have had sex it's odd. like he knows to much. i have something to prove to him now. i know i don't, it stupid i feel this way.

but when you've had sex with someone that you know or you're friends with it changes. he knows what i look like now. what if i was bad? what if he is going to tell everyone i'm terrible and fat and ugly.

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