Distant » Harry Styles

Chapter 22

I press my lips against his and he kisses me back softly at first, but then he presses his mouth harder against mine. I feel my tongue skim over his and my hand wraps around his hair. He pulls me down so that my body is on top of his. He puts one hand on my hip, and the other on my back. I can feel the electricity shooting through my body as we deepen the kiss. My hands are pressed against his shoulders, and I can feel his strong muscles underneath his thin shirt. I pull back, gasping because I almost forgot to breathe. His lips are red from the kiss, and his hair is slightly tousled. 

I smile slightly and bite my lip. I lay my head against his chest, and listen to his heart beating. I’m not sure of what just happened, but I think I’m okay with it. He wraps his arms around me, and I can feel every part of his body. I can't believe I just did that. Fucking hell, why did I invite him over? I ask myself for the hundreth time.

Even though I hate myself for kissing him, I can't deny the fact that I loved the way his lips felt against mine. It was almost as if my lips were made for only kissing his. After all the guys I’ve kissed, Harry’s was the only one that felt right. Harry makes all the other guys look like bad kissers. 

“Even though you made me forget about everything for a while, I’m still really worried about my mum.” he says, breaking the silence. 

“Are you afraid of losing someone you love?” Harry asks. 

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, “You have no idea.” 

Nobody knows this, but so much has happened in my life that nobody knows about. I keep everything personal locked up inside of me. If Harry could see inside my mind, he would be beyond confused. I obviously don’t act the way I think. I’m a completely different person in my mind than I am on the outside. In my head I'm a much nicer person than I seem to be. It's like there's an angel in there somewhere but the devil is what everyone else sees. I don't know what Harry sees in me, but I'm thankful for whatever it is. 

The feeling of Harry’s lips still lingers on my own. I want to kiss him again, but I know that wouldn’t be the right thing to do. His body is hot, warming my cold one. I have no idea what I’m doing on top of him, but I don’t want to move either. This isn’t right. I’m confusing myself more than I’m confusing him. Wasn’t I being rude to him not too long ago? And now here I am lying on top of him, wanting to feel his lips against mine again. 

I hear a knock on my door and I rush to get off of him I tug at his arm to move him to the window.

“Climb out,” I whisper and he puts one leg out of the window.

I hear my mother call my name and knock on the door again. Harry can’t be seen, and I move to open the door. My mother hasn’t met Harry, and she would be suspicious as to why there is a boy in my room.

“Hi mom,” I say timidly. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, and I have to keep myself from rolling my eyes. 

“Oh nothing, I was reading.” I lie. What does she want? 

“Why did I hear talking?”

“I talk to myself when I read.” I lie again. 

She walks over to the window and my heart is pounding against my ribs. Please don’t look down, please don’t look down…

“Why is the window open?” she asks and slams it shut. 

“I wanted some fresh air; that’s all.” I say, annoyed by her presence. 

She sighs and sits on my bed. She runs her hand through her hair, a familiar motion that Harry always does. I have to push him out of my thoughts, and focus on the reason why my mother is in my room. She looks around my room as if she’s never seen it before. Her hair color has changed; gray streaks lighten her dark hair. I notice that there are wrinkles at the ends of her mouth, and near her eyes. She looks so much older than before. She must be really stressed; I’ve never seen her like this before. 

“You have been going out a lot lately, and I’ve been worried. Are you partying again?” she asks. 

“What? No, I’ve been going to a friend’s house.” I say. 

“Do I know this friend?”

“No, you don’t. His name is Harry; he’s a really sweet guy. You don’t have to worry.” I assure her. 

“And there’s….nothing going on between the two of you?” she asks. 

“No,” I say hesitantly. Is there anything going on between us? Or was that kiss just in the spur of the moment?

I glance over to the window and wonder if Harry left, or is waiting. A part of me wishes he never came to my house even though I invited him, and the other half wishes he never left my side. My thoughts are distorted and I can’t think clearly. This is what he does to me. I don’t even understand myself anymore.

It used to be so simple. I met a guy, we had sex, he got attached to me, and I broke up with him. Then, repeat with....... how many guys? I lost count. The point is, I was never the one to get attached to someone. I was always the one that broke hearts and I want it to stay that way. Harry is changing everything and I hate that. I can't be spending any more time with him. I get in relationships for the thrill, and I don't want to have an emotional aspect in there anywhere. 

“When will I be able to meet this boy?” my mother asks. 

I wanted to say something along the lines of, “You can meet him right now. He’s on a ladder that leads to my window.”

But instead, I say, “I’ll ask him if he can join us for dinner one night.”

I’m sure I won’t ask Harry though. Introducing someone to your parents at dinner seems like a cliché thing that only happens in books or movies. Besides, I don't think I'll be hanging out with Harry ever again. Maybe if I postpone it long enough, she’ll forget about it. I look over at the window again, and mentally beg my mother to leave my room. Eventually, she leaves, and I rush to the window. I push it up and look down at the ground to see no sign of Harry. I sigh and reach to shut the window.