Corruption™ (Punk Harry Styles)

Chapter Nineteen

Gabby’s POV

 

I’ve been stuck in this house for two full days now. That’s right, it’s flipping Monday evening and I’m still here with him.

Harry said he could take my stitches out today because the wound wasn’t too deep. I can’t complain about him saving me; I’m sure I would have been dead otherwise.

That man, whoever he was, was sick to do something like that to anyone.

“Why didn’t we go to school today?” I asked Harry when he came back into the bedroom.

“It’s too dangerous,” he replied sitting down on his makeshift bed.

I really did feel bad making him sleep on the floor. But hey, I would rather that than find out what might happen if he was in bed with me.

He’s been extremely quiet, but oddly nice to me these past couple of days.

Now that it was the third day of being cooped up together, I was hoping he would talk some more. It’s not like since we broke up we couldn’t talk.

“You can, um, sit with me if you want,” I offered looking down at how uncomfortable a hardwood floor must be on your bum after a whilst.

“I’m fine,” he said, but I could tell he was a lying.

I frowned, “Okay…”

“…Unless you want me to…?”

“It just looks really uncomfortable down there.”

“Yeah, your ass does start to hurt after a while,” he smirked and I smiled.

This was the side of Harry I liked; the one that was playful and always trying to make me laugh or smile. I just wish it could’ve stayed that way instead of him becoming so distant.

Yeah, I was pissed at him and I still kind of am, but I can’t hold onto that anger forever. We could be friends at least rather than acting so weird and awkward around each other.

It was almost like there were things we wanted to say sitting on the tip of our tongues, but neither of us had the guts to actually say them.

Harry got up from the floor and sat on the bed next to me. His fingers brushed against mine, a silent gasp falling from my lips.

“Sorry,” we both said at the same time and then smiled.

I couldn’t ignore the fluttering feeling in my stomach when his fingers touched mine. It was like electricity or something.

For now, and probably forever, I needed to forget about it. That meant nothing to him; I need to keep reminding myself that.