Toxic (Harry Styles)

Chapter 47

Truth be told, I was thinking of millions of things, unable to decide which was most important at the time.

"Surely you have something to say," he dryly chuckles. I smile against his vibrating chest.

"I have plenty to say," I respond. "I just don't know where to start."

"Well, how about we start after I clean off, yeah?" His hands rub up and down my back. I nod, smelling the days of sweat and nastiness on him that I've tried my best to not focus on. He then adds hesitantly, "Will you join me?"

Pulling back enough to see him clearly, I tug on my bottom lip. "No," I bat my eyelashes.

However, I do end up in the same bathroom with him. I sit comfortably on the toilet as he quickly stripped down and started the shower. Things were quiet. We stayed like this with a curtain between us, but it seemed like things were so much more open. I don't know how or why exactly, but they do. The fact that he could say something, anything, at any moment terrifies me because I don't know what he'll ask.

Calm down, Shay. It's just Harry.

I blushed furiously as he cut the water and stepped out with no warning. Ducking my head down to give him some sort of privacy, I can hear him chuckle at my small, innocent move. He pulls on a pair of clean black boxers and I can finally go back to ogling him whilst biting the inside of my cheek. Next he steps into gray sweatpants with the draw strings hanging loosely, and a plain white tank top. I'll admit that the small bathroom is quite heated and foggy, so it's understandable that he'll done that kind of shirt, but I know for a fact that once we step back into his room, it'll be cold even with the heater that hardly works.

I undo my crossed legs so my feet are flat on the floor, and Harry steps between them, taking my hand in his like he's done more times than I can count.

"How do you feel about a night in front of the fireplace?" He mutters.

I furrow my eyebrows. "But, you don't have a fireplace."

"Technically, no, I don't. But I think the TV screen would suffice."

Back out to the main room, Harry turns on the TV and clicks a few buttons before a realistic looking fireplace shows up. It moves just like a real fire would, but the only downside is that there's no real heat. Harry leads me to the floor with him, laying on my back on the carpet, as he rested to my left. His curls tickle my neck when his head covers the left side of my chest and shoulder. I wonder why he does this until I hear him sigh in contentment and wraps his arm around my waist, snaking under my shirt to rub the skin on my hip. He's listening to my heartbeat.

I can imagine what he's hearing right now, an erratic heart racing to a nonexistent finish line. It pumps blood through my veins at the speed of light. But I only come up with one reason why he's happy to hear it. Harry went through God knows what up north. He thought he would die, probably believed it at one point, and thought he wouldn't be able to see me again. He wouldn't be able to do this anymore, see me just like I feared not being able to see him. He's savouring the moment.

I tangle my digits in his damp hair, scratching ever so slightly and he nuzzles into me even more.

"You're still not saying anything," he observes, disrupting the silence.

"I missed you," I whisper.

Harry props his head up on his arm to get a good look at me and my hand drops from his hair. His eyes eventually changed back to the green that I love; his lips are pink and full instead of pale and thin. Overall, I think that shower did very good things to Harry's skin, almost like it brought his skin back to life.