Illicit [Harry Styles]

Chapter 46

I opened my eyes feeling a bit disorientated, the room was dark and various pieces of furniture and dark corners created creepy shadows — the type that you swear you catch moving if you stare too long. I was becoming quite accustomed to waking up in Harry's bed, breathing in the smell of his bedcovers which always smelt like a mixture of fresh washing powder and him. His bed was far comfier and much cosier than mine; the duvet was thick and crisp and the mattress was perfectly soft.

Usually I can't sleep because of the alcohol and the buzz of caffeine still rushing through me, but I'd barely had anything to drink before going to sleep yet still I was wide awake at five in the morning, my mouth desperately dry. I laid uncomfortably for a little while as I was contemplating whether or not to get up and fetch some water, as if I was on the verge of jumping up any second despite still not knowing whether or not to do it.

I turned my head to look at Harry, expecting to see him sleeping peacefully, but I jumped when I saw the whites of his eyes peering back at me through the darkness. I could just make out his lips curving into an amused smile at my surprise, and he exhaled through his nose in a breathy laugh.

"I didn't expect you to be awake," I said quietly, my voice a bit croaky.

"I gathered," he replied, the throatiness of the sound seeming even lower in pitch.

"You're never usually the one laying awake in the middle of the night." I don't know what my point was, I suppose it was just a curious observation.

He was on his side, resting on his right forearm which was folded underneath the side of his head, the other across his chest with a hand underneath his cheek. As my eyes got used to the light — or lack thereof — I could see his unruly hair simultaneously spread out across the pillow and covering his neck, his mouth lazily pouted and eyes cutting through the black room to see me.

He merely shrugged the shoulder that wasn't pressed against the mattress.

"How are you feeling? Last night was... strange."

"Not the best, but I've been worse," he responded casually, as though to him the events of the evening weren't out of the ordinary.

I let my thoughts run away with me as I gazed over at him, he didn't say anything — just let me stare at him like he knew I was thinking. Maybe he was thinking, too, dwelling on it all like I was. His face helped me to remember all the weird goings-on of the party: the drinking game, his disappearance, the worry when he found me outside, the rage when he attacked Zayn, the boyish giggles and cheeky side of him that made an appearance after he'd woken up from a nap on the dining room table. I feel like that night was a perfect summary of Harry as a person; he was prone to mood swings, one minute he'd be uninterested and sarcastic, the next he'd be overly violent, then he'd be cute and silly.

"I feel like there's a few things we should talk about," I spoke up in a hushed tone.

He continued looking into my eyes for a second or two, blinking innocently. "Like what?" he asked, but I could just tell by his face that he was aware. He seemed almost scared or possibly guilty.

"Harry, I—... I want to know."

His eyebrows dipped down at the bridge of his nose in what looked to be sincere confusion, as though that wasn't what he had expected me to come out with. "Know what?"

"Anything... everything," I said vaguely, feeling shy. "I feel like there's a lot I don't know and I don't want to be left in the dark."

"Give me a clue, Jess. 'Everything' is quite a wide topic."

I rolled over onto my side, our face were less than a foot apart and suddenly the only sound in the room was the quiet breaths leaving his nose in short, serene puffs, his shoulder rising and falling rhythmically in time with them. I had no idea where to start.