One. || h.s.

Twenty One.

"What time is it?" She asks, her voice thick with sleep and child-like. I grip the counter tightly, growing even more angry with myself. It's my fault I don't get to wake up next this everyday.

"We have to leave in twenty minutes." I say, trying to hide the pull I feel towards her and my internal frustration.

"What? Why didn't you wake me sooner?" She panics, jumping off the couch and rifling through her suitcase. I wish she would just unpack.

"I just got out here, I thought you would already be up," I shrug, biting into my toast. I can't do anything but watch her; anything I say will come out wrong.

"So you made yourself breakfast first. That's nice Harry."

I watch as she stalks to the bathroom and hear the door slam shut. I throw out my toast without bothering to finish it.

Everyday she is here it proves harder for me not to tell her how I feel. I have to keep it to myself, though; she doesn't need me making her life any harder. The fact that she is living with me right now is a curse and blessing. I hated living on my own and having Sky around is better than I could have dreamed, but it's a constant reminder of what I mess I made her life three years ago.

Not to mention how much having her near me makes me want her. She was the best I had ever had, no one could turn me on just by saying my name except for her. I miss being able to pull her small body close to mine, to feel her skin on my skin. It grows difficult to be around her when I start to think this way so I usually end up locking myself in my room. She gets to me, she gets under my skin and I can't shake her off. I want her lips again, her neck, her arms, her legs and everything in between.

I find myself leaning against the wall across from the bathroom listening to the quiet sounds behind the door. I want more than anything to tell her how I feel and for her to feel the same, but I can't. I'm not even sure if what I'm feeling is real or if it's just stemmed from the shock of having her back in my life. Either way, she wouldn't want anything to do with me, she hardly does now.

The door flings open and I'm stared in the face by my mistakes, her dark eyes sharp and reaching into my soul.

"I have to piss," I say out of panic, not being able to stand the disproving look on her face. She moves out of the way, rolling her eyes, and I move into the bathroom.

She must think I'm messing with her because I was pissed off yesterday. There was no way I could explain to her why I'm moody around Zayn, she wouldn't understand. Hell, I hardly understand it. We used to get along, we used to be good friends but as soon as I saw him with Skylar I hated him.

I splash water on my face and dry it off with a towel. I stare into the mirror, gripping my hair at the roots. The longer she stays here, the worse I become. I feel as I've I'm going insane, my emotions and judgment bouncing off the walls. I want her for myself, I don't want anyone else to have a chance with her. If only I could touch her and I'd feel fine.

My eyes land on a pair of earrings on the counter, and I immediately shove them in my pocket. It has to be done, it's the only way Zayn will back off.

Skylar is waiting by the door, her coat and shoes on. I smile at her, hoping to appear calmer than I feel. "That was fast," I say as I approach her and reach for my jacket.

"Well I didn't have much choice did I," she mumbles and folds her arms over her chest. She thinks I was messing with her for not waking her up earlier and I feel terrible, but I ignore the small pang I feel. "Where's your coat? It's snowing." She asks suddenly.

"Last time I checked, you had it," I smirk, the image of her in my coat making me feel more at ease. I meet her dark brown eyes as a blush creeps onto her cheeks and I feel my smirk widen.