So, once again, I am extremely sorry for taking so long on an update, but I was so freaking busy with school, I wasn't able to write anything, only read. But, here I am again, and I'm hoping you guys didn't forget about me :3
But yep, hope you like this chappie, 'cause I worked kind of very hard on this one.
Enjoy the chapter!
The drive home was quiet. Harry was sitting next to me, his earphones in while he was staring out of the window. I was focusing on the road, well okay, not completely though. My mind kept replaying the 'moment' we had at the soccer field. It was something different, almost weird. He never looked at me like that, it was almost as if he saw something more in me. More than just a pointless guy, a new member in the band, and most of all, more than just a meaningless fuck. I shook my head violently, trying to get that thought out of my head, because it was only a reminder of that night we shared. When he was drunk, only using me, but me, I was sober and I could feel every little emotion there was to feel. I honestly thought something was going to change between us. Okay, something did change between us. He let me closer to him a little bit and he wasn't so cold anymore, but there was still so much things I wanted to understand, but I couldn't. Unless he was ready to tell me, which he obviously wasn't.
Harry suddenly shifted a bit on his seat, and pulled out his earphones, shoving them into his pocket. I quickly glanced over to him, but cursed myself quietly the second I did. He still looked so god damn beautiful. He was wearing a grey beanie, so his curls were swept away from his forehead, but even then he looked good. His dark blue t-shirt with a v-neck was showing off his biceps and a little bit of his torso. I gulped, gripping the steering wheel tighter, keeping my gaze locked on the road. I could feel Harry's eyes on me and I could almost hear him smirking to himself, and that only made me grip the steering wheel even tighter, if that was even possible. My knuckles turned white and my fingers felt numb.
''Why so nervous, Tomlinson?'' I heard Harry's mocking voice, but refused to reply. What was I going to say anyway? 'Oh um, it's just the way you look. It's driving me absolutely insane.' Yeah, I don't think that would've helped the situation in anyway. So instead, I reached out, still without looking at Harry's direction, and turned on the radio to avoid his questions. That plan worked for a while, until I heard Harry take in a deep breath and turn his body towards me slightly.
''You're quite boring when you're quiet.'' Harry noted, tapping his fingers on his knees, keeping his gaze locked on me. I glanced at his direction for a second, raising an eyebrow. I then focused on the road again, well, tried to, but kind of mentally failing.
''Is that so?'' I mumbled, trying to keep my tone under control. It seemed like every time Harry looked at me, talked to me or did anything else that drove me crazy, my voice was barely a whisper and my breathing was completely out of control, which is ridicolous, because I shouldn't be like that. Every time I felt like that, I mentally slapped myself or pushed myself off of a cliff and threw potatoes at myself. But every time he made me feel that way, he also made me angry. He made the anger boil inside me and just made me want to reach out and punch the hell out of him. He was acting just like this bittersweet boy, mocking me all the time. It was honestly a bit too much for me.