The Guy Named Harrison: Book One

23

After a long day of partying and drinking, Harrison made his way from the dining room, through the lounge, and up the stairs that went up to the master bedrooms. He carried two bottles of water as he ran up the circular staircase to find Carrie.

Harrison could tell she hadn't had too much to drink in a long time. So when she and a few others hit their breaking point, he carried her upstairs into their room.

The bedroom they shared was at the end of the hallway. Like all the other rooms, it had a king size bed, a full size shower and bathtub, and even its own hot tub.

Once he finally reached their door, he stumbled into the wall, banging his shoulder on the process. After taking Carrie upstairs, he and the guys played a few more rounds of beer pong.

He got the door open after twisting it the wrong way the first time. Carrie was laying in bed with her arm around Gary, and Wilson at her feet.

"Carrie?"

She was asleep. Gently closing the door, he made his way over to the other side of the bed while being careful not to wake her. He succeeded in waking Wilson who jumped off the bed.

"Hi buddy."

Wilson licked Harrison's hand as he rubbed his head. He set the bottles of water on the dresser and searched for new clothes.

Most of the dresser was full of her clothes, making him have to really search for his. Harrison stuck his arm way in the drawer and was able to pull out a fresh pair of shorts and underwear.

He smelled like seawater. Bad. Hopefully Carrie didn't care because it was so late and he didn't feel like getting a shower. Behind him, Wilson whimpered.

"Yeah, she'll probably make me get one."

Wilson jumped back up on the bed and laid next to his best friend Gary. The dogs had become so close that if they ever broke up, the dogs would handle it worse.

Harrison didn't plan on that ever happening. Laying his clothes on a pile on the floor, he joined Carrie in bed.

She was laying with her back facing him. Her tank top was slipped up enough to expose a small patch of skin on her lower back. His fingers immediately rubbed against her cool skin. It was so soft.

His eyes started to flutter as he traced patterns on her back with his fingertips. "Hands off hotshot."

"Shit," he mumbled to himself. "Why?"

"Because that tickles."

He then proceeded to tickle her even more until she was laughing hard. "Harrison!"

His fingers slipped out from under her shirt and she quickly got him back where he was the most ticklish. His sides. He tried to push her away but it was no use. Her nails as she tickled him left a chilling feeling.

"Carrie."

Getting her to stop was no use either. So he grabbed both her hands and pulled her against his muscular chest. Carrie straddled him as their lips touched.

Kissing Harrison was the best feeling in the world. She deepened the kiss while he held a hand on her cheek, and the other on her back. He tilted his head sideways as they kissed again.

"You are amazing," Carrie whispered between kisses.

"Not as amazing as you," he admitted, rolling over so she was on her back.

Their lips touched in a passionate kiss. He leaned on his forearms while she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her fingers dug into his skin and eventually made their way up his neck and into his now messy hair.

Harrison rolled over again so she was once again straddling him. Carrie helped him pull her shirt over her head as his fingers slipped down to work on her shorts.

❺❾

Harrison woke the next morning to a scratching noise. He opened his eyes to see her sitting cross legged with what looked like a folder on her lap. As he went to sit up, her small hand pressed against his bare chest, forcing him to lay back down.

"Don't move. I'm almost done."

"Done with what?" He wondered.

She held a finger up to her lips and the scratching began again. Carrie held a pencil in her right hand and continuously looked at him before looking back at whatever was in her lap.

After a few minutes of waiting for her to finish whatever it was she was doing, she told him he could sit up. "What were you doing?"

Carrie handed him the blue folder. On top of the folder was a sketch of him sleeping. "You draw?"

She nodded. "I haven't had much time for it lately."

"This is amazing."

It truly was. She captured every detail perfectly from the definition of his muscles to the shadows from the covers to Wilson laying beside him and the messy hair that was tousled on his forehead.

"How long did this take you?"

"An hour."

"Can you draw me playing football?"

"Of course I will," she answered after a quick kiss.