the writer // harry styles au

chapter 6

Alexis

Harry pulled me down onto his chest after I went down on him. I was still only in my underwear, and I was cold. I'm not sure why I blew him. Maybe because Jess said to, or because I wanted to, or because I wanted to show him his book character was bullshit.

Harry's hands are folded over the small of my back, my head in the crook of his neck and our breathing is at the same pace.

"Why'd you do that?" Harry asks. He starts drawling unknown patterns on my bare back.

"Go down on you?" I ask. Harry chuckles.

"Yeah," he replies, "that."

"I don't know." And I don't. "Alice isn't me, and I wanted to prove that to you."

I look into his eyes with mine. I don't know what I see; confusion, worry, anger. He looks blank and strange, like he's in deep thought. His fingers have stopped moving along my back, the heat still radiating off them. I just need an answer to what he thought if what just happened. I know i'm making it complicated, like a stupid girl who is obsessed over every relationship they've had.

"I know that," Harry finally replied. "I had the wrong impression of you- a bad one. You're different to her."

"You act like she's real," I say.

"She feels real, even though she's just a figure of my imagination." He sounds frustrated, it's obvious by the way his breathing has gotten faster and uneven. Just like when I was blowing him.

"Are you going to keep writing her?" I question.

He breathes in, out and then answers, "It's a good story. I think. So, yeah, I may as well."

I don't care. Actually, I don't even know if I don't care. Most girls would feel flattered to have a book character written after them, but not me. I like Harry, but he likes 'Alice'. He nearly had a mental breakdown because I wasn't like her. He doesn't want me; he wants Alice.

"Yeah, let's hope it's good," I say to myself, but out loud.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asks.

"Well, if the guy I'm interested in is writing about a girl he's infatuated with and doesn't show any interest in me, his end product- the book- should be pretty goddamn amazing," I tell him.

Harry bends down to pick up my dress, messing with it so it wasn't inside-out anymore. He hands it to me, nudging it at my chest.

"You should get home," he says. His jeans are pulled up his legs while I'm still straddling him, making the task a lot more complex.

I comply with his request and pull the dress on. What I said must have upset him. I get that, but what would he feel like if I was writing a book and was more interested in the character than him?

"Do you usually do that on a first date, or was it just to prove a point?" Harry presses, trying the fire back at me, and I let him.

"I did it because I was horny and you were, too. Don't act like you did it against your own will, because you didn't," I say.

Harry's climbing over to the driver's seat. His shirt is in his hand, which is clinging onto the material like if he let go he'd lose everything. He's finding the task of getting into his seat difficult, executing the task ungracefully. His butt in planted into the leather seat and his hands are pulling at the seat belt forcefully.

Harry pulls and pulls on the seat belt and it won't extended so he can buckle himself up. He stops the task, admitting defeat against the seatbelt.

"Ugh," he grunts loudly. His breathing is unsteady and fast. He's not calm and that uncomforting for me. "This is too complicated."

"You made it complicated," I fire back. It probably wasn't the best idea.

"You make it complicated! I like you, and I wanted you to be like my book character and now your nothing like I imagined and that's.." He stops.

"Uncomforting," I finish for him.

"Uncomforting," he confirms.

"Maybe we should just stop.. this," I suggest.

"I don't want to stop this because you are such a.." Harry cups my face and seems to take in every sight; every crevice. "Such a darling girl; a lovely, beautiful girl. Do not let my imagination and stupidity detain from what we could have," he finishes.

My breathing is heavy, my mind racing. He's so charming and smart. He knows his words and how to entice someone with them, as he did me. I would give myself to him willingly if he said the right thing and that's was I'm scared of; what's making me nervous. He can make me follow his every word, make me fall for him and I do not need that. I do not need to be whipped, not caring about anything but him.

"I need to get home," I say to him.

"Alexis," Harry starts to protest, but I deny by moving his hands from my face.

"Home," I order.

He complies, taking his keys and putting them into the ignition. He breathes out and puts the car into drive, pulling out onto the road and heading to my home. His hands are clenched against the steering wheel, with white knuckles. I don't know what I feel for him, but right now it's not a happy feeling. I feel used, almost.

"Just know," Harry starts, "I didn't want you to be just like the character. I wanted someone new. Someone that would make me feel different to how I have over the past 2 years, and when I first saw you I felt something different, like you could be that someone new."

Good with his words, smart with his thoughts. He just wants something different, but it's still hard to comprehend that he had this idea set in his mind about me which he made up.

"Well, now I know," I tell him.

I make the bold decisions to move my hand to his shoulder. I slide my thumb back and forth, giving him comfort. Hopefully. His presses his lips together while smiling.

I don't know if this 'relationship' will be right, or worth it, but I might as well give it a go.