The Flat

5

"You promise?"

"Yes." He insisted on tucking me into bed and then he left.

Once he left, I felt like I could finally breathe deeply again. I let myself settle into my bed and relax. However, the moment I did, my mind began to boil over. The events from last night raced through my head. As I shifted around in my bed, I could feel the marks Harry left on my body.

My hips were sore and my abs hurt. I swear I could still smell him on me. Just the memory of him was making me aroused. My knickers were starting to pool. I shifted uncomfortably under my sheets. I hated how hot the mere recollection was getting me. I tried to push it out of my mind and focus on sleeping instead.

I'd just begun to close my eyes when I heard a knock on my door. I ignored it. I was in no mood to deal with Harry.

"Vivian? It's Harry."

"I know." He opened the door. "I didn't say you could come in."

He settled against the door frame. "We have to talk."

"I can't right now," I said, trying to shut him down.

"Yes, you can,"

"I'm tired, confused and hungover. No talking." I rolled deeper into my coverlet.

"Vivian, I want to apologise for being an arse this weekend. You were right."

"Thank you. Now leave me alone."

I heard him sigh. The floor creaked as he began to leave, then he stated, "I meant it."

"Meant what?"

"What I said last night." My heart dropped into my stomach and instantly, my defenses went up.

"What? That I was finally hot enough for you to want to fuck because I was drunk and wearing provocative clothes?"

"No, that's not it Vivian, I—" he started but I kept going.

"Yes it is," I interrupted, "Point taken. Fuck you too Harry," I spat.

"Is that what you think of me, Vivian?"

His face grew distant and stony, which only made me soften my approach; I had to be the one to put a bow on the situation. I had to be the one to make it better.

"Listen, I was drunk and you were drunk and angry—"

"And?" he asked, his eyes steady, refusing to give me any hint of what he was thinking.

"And it was a mistake. Friends accidentally have sex all the time," I finished.

"Friends don't accidentally fuck the way we did." His lips broke into a slight smile. His eyes seemed to focus on something far away, most likely our time together last night.

"No, Harry," I said, firmly, pulling him out of his day dream, "I'd rather we just forget about what happened and move on. Okay?"

"Forget about it?" he repeated, confused.

"Yes," I stated, "What else can we do?"

He stared at me for a moment.

"We could keep doing what we did last night," he suggested, "We could start in your room, then my room, the kitchen," he teased. He dug his thumbs into the waist of his shorts, showing off his lower abs.

"Harry, I don't..." I tried to interrupt him, but got lost imagining his body against mine.

He eased himself off the door frame and settled on the edge of my bed. His hand quickly found my foot and he slowly began to trace his fingers up my leg. The heat between us was still palpable. I was quickly falling into the fantasy.