How to Write Smut

Six

I awoke to the sound of chirping.

The sun streaked and spilled through the only window in my room, warming the carpet and my face. For once I felt peaceful, until I heard a deep yawn on the other side of the bed.

Almost falling off the edge, I slowly shifted and looked at Harry through the spaces between the pillows. He was rubbing his eyes, curled and tangled into the blanket. He looked like an angel, with soft features and pale skin, but I didn't focus on that. I forced myself not to focus on that, anyway.

Harry opened one eye from where he was, catching me looking. He observed the wall I built with a genuine look of curiosity, mumbling, "Why are there so many pillows?"

He seemed for fall absent from his question as soon as he asked, and I sighed in relief, stumbling out of the bed. In the mornings, with a strange man in my bed or not, I was anything but collected and sophisticated.

On my way to the bathroom, yesterday's events went through my head. I spazzed out over a small kiss on the neck, and God, it was the biggest thing I remembered.

I hoped Harry would sleep in - just to give me as much time to myself as possible. As I turned the bright light on, I closed my eyes briefly, giving them a second chance to wake up as well as the rest of me. It was just so.. bright.

I yawned while reaching the shower, hearing the floor creaking down by my bedroom. I ignored the first half of it, supposing that Harry was just wandering around, and turned on the water. Steam instantly rolled from the shower head. I glanced at the mirror, catching a figure in the doorway. I wouldn't deny that I jumped.

And, it was Harry, his lips lazily curled up in a smile. It was one thing to sleep next to him, even with a wall of pillows, but this - this made me questionably uncomfortable. I wasn't even undressed, either, which threw me off. Maybe it was the thought of him this close to me, and a shower being nearby - but, whatever. I mentally shook it off, promising myself I wouldn't overreact.

He stepped in, and I gently nudged him out as soon as it happened. A breathy, sarcastic laugh left my lips. "Nice try," I muttered, shutting the door in front of him.Breathe, Shay.

~-~

It was when I left the shower that I saw Harry sitting with his legs stretched out on the couch, his ankles hanging off the edge. His head was tipped back and he seemed so utterly relaxed that it hurt.

"You're done," he said, looking at me. I stood stiffly by the doorway, my lips pursed as I watched him stand, asking, "Are you busy today?"

"Yes," I said. Reading counts as being busy, I supposed. It always did.

"Could I take you out instead?"

"Me?" I didn't want to go out. Something told me he wasn't going to take shit, and it lessened my chances of getting to stay in on my glorious day off. He nodded while he shifted his weight onto his other leg. "I can't go out," I said, drumming my fingers against my left wrist. "I'm cleaning the flat."

"You're cleaning the flat," he repeated my words nonchalantly, his eyebrows raised. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't buy it - I was possibly, undoubtedly the worst liar there was.

"It's gotta be done, right?" I shrugged as I walked past him, sighing quietly. "You know, the mopping, dusting and vacuuming," I heard him following me from behind as I headed to the kitchen, "the sweeping."

I turned to see him, and he swiped his keys from the small table next to the microwave. It was quiet between us, and I wanted to ask why until he said, "Okay, well. I'm gonna go have some fun, and if you want to stay home and clean, you're welcome to do just that."