Matilda | Harry Styles

SEVENTEEN

 "Iz, I don't quite know what you're doing to me, but I want you to keep doing it."

When I'd finally fallen asleep, I'd been unable to tear the ridiculous grin from my face, or shift my mind away from the taste of his lips on my own. I wasn't sure I'd ever felt infatuation before, but this had to be it; it was otherwise inexplicable, the way that he occupied my mind with such relentless ease. Was this what it was like to want, and to be wanted in return?

The nagging in the back of my head told me quite the opposite - it told me that he'd not paid me another thought since we'd parted ways earlier that evening. No, I wouldn't have even crossed his mind; not once. His fingers wouldn't have lingered on his own lips, as my own had on mine, silently recalling how it had felt for us to kiss after what felt like torturous weeks of avoidance; nor would his chest have fluttered at the recollection of my face inches from his. Harry wouldn't have cared; he couldn't have cared.

But he did. At least, it felt that way. When his hand would reach for my chin, capturing it gently between his fingertips, or his hand would draw over my waist, his eyes falling to lock on my own; it felt like he did, more than anything. It felt like everything else could be silenced; it could disappear, because it didn't matter.

But with elated recollection, and each warm flutter of content, came a twinge of panic. They were only in flashes, and I'd managed, mostly, to stifle them. But they were there - they were most definitely there. 

I'd never been anything but pragmatic; that was how I'd argued it to Grace, when she'd huffed and rolled her eyes at my lack of willful imagination. I had hopes, I had dreams - of course I did. But I'd never dare let myself fantasise or dwell upon them, for the fact that they simply weren't realistic. 

"If something feels too good to be true, that's because it probably is," I'd pointed out to Grace, once, bringing my knees to my chest as I positioned myself in my seat on my bed, watching her roll her eyes from the space beside me. She'd sighed at me, defeated.

"Sure, you don't have to be naïve, Izzy, but sometimes," she shrugged, turning to look at me, "sometimes, things can just be good."

What had been the point in wasting the very little energy I had on dreaming about self-fulfilment and a life that I wanted to lead, when quite simply, they weren't an option in actuality? Of course, I could build castles in the air, relentlessly daydreaming and fantasising about what I really wanted; about what could've been, if I'd been brave enough to take it. But I feared doing so might break me; instead, I needed to keep my head down, and do what I needed to do. And therefore, I'd never pursued anything outside of what I deemed practical; the correct thing to do, because what I wanted, I didn't think I could ever have. That was why it had taken so long; so much, to get here - I'd never have pursued this job, or anything like it, I'd never have pursued the life I wanted for myself, and I'd certainly never have pursued Harry. 

I'd never known anybody able to simultaneously turn everything I thought I knew about myself on its head, making me question every boundary I'd ever set in place, whilst also making everything feel so easy. Despite the constant cavilling of my mind, being with Harry felt right.

The knock sounded at my door once more, just as my eyes had begun to flutter shut - still firm, but a little more scattered, as if the perpetrator was hesitant to alert me to their presence for a second time. I furrowed my eyebrows, bringing my hands over my face to rub my eyes a little too fiercely. So much for going back to sleep.

I let out a silent, tired huff, tearing the warmth of the covers from my body. I pulled weakly on the remnants of the ponytail I'd tied before falling asleep last night, not daring to look in the mirror for fear of the sight - I just needed to politely decline the service I was sure was waiting to be offered on the other side of the door, and then I could go back to sleeping, undisturbed.