TABOO

Fourteen.

"It will rain" - Bruno Mars
"Naked" - James Arthur

I wake up laying on my side with Harry snuggled against my back, one strong arm wrapped around me. His big hand is held in mine and cuddled against my chest. This is bad, something I could easily get used to if I'm not careful.

I untangle myself from him and the warmth that comes from his body. Wearing only his white Rolling Stones T-shirt, I pad around the suite and gather up my clothes from yesterday. I pack them into my suitcase before pulling clean ones out and make my way to the bathroom for a shower. The hot water pelts down on me as I try to scrub away the self loathing. I try to scrub away the lingering feeling of Harry's skin on mine and the way waking up in his arms felt. It doesn't work. I sit down, letting the water streams pour down on me until they're no longer hot. My hands rub against my itchy eyes, smearing mascara down my cheeks, before I decide to get out of the shower.

When I'm fresh faced and dressed, I pack up all of my belongings into my duffle bag and suitcase. I can't stay here with Harry any longer. It's all becoming too much.

"Hey," I jostle Harry until his eyes flit open. "I want to go home."

His eyes open wider, and he sits up. "What? Why? Are you not feeling well again? We're not supposed to leave until Saturday."

"It's too much, Harry," is all I say. When he doesn't reply, I add, "can we please go home? I don't want to fly alone."

He gets up and starts pulling on his clothes from yesterday. "Did I do something wrong?"

I avoid the question. "I would just like to go home."

Harry nods and proceeds to gather up all of his belongings, as I sit and watch from the edge of the bed. I try not to stare too long at the way his body moves or how his hard abs flash from the bottom of his shirt when he reaches above his head. The thing is, he didn't do anything wrong; he done everything right. The way he treats me, the way we have careless fun together, the undeniable chemistry we have, the way he makes me feel at ease with myself when I'm around him, and the way he ravishes and cherishes my body at the same time. It's all the right things, just the wrong person. He and I can't go any farther than a physical relationship, and even that is pushing it. I don't want to mess around and get feelings for something that can never grow and get my heart broken as a result. I need to get away while I can.

The drive to the airport isn't full of sexual tension and lustful looks between us, but awkwardness and unsaid feelings. I swallow down the urges I have about him and stay silent the entire way. The plane ride isn't much different. We set next to each other but only speak when absolutely necessary, making it a long eight hours. I think Harry knows what's up with me, and maybe he's starting to understand.

"Back so early!" Mom says when we enter the house.

I take in the group of people sitting around our huge dining room table and plaster on a fake smile. Mom and Dad always have dinner parties, and I always try to stay away from them. Their friends always seem to ask prying questions that are hard to get out of.

"Yeah, we went full on tourist mode for three days straight. The place is beautiful but so tiring, and I was ready to sleep in my own bed again. You know how I am about hotel beds." I explain, maybe a little bit too cheerfully. Everyone laughs.

"What about you, Harry? Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, yeah, it was great." He gives a dazzling smile.

I excuse myself upstairs and drown myself in college work as soon as I'm in my room. I only leave once to make a frappé with our cappuccino machine in the garage, double espresso so I can stay awake. I spend hours distracting myself from what is really on my mind, what I'm too afraid to face at the moment, until there's a knock at my door.

"Come in." I say, already knowing who it has to be.

Harry walks in, wearing only athletic shorts and no shirt. I twist around in my computer chair to face him as he shuts the door and sits down on the edge of my bed. I just look at him, waiting for him to speak, but afraid of what he's going to say.

"I'm sorry if I done something wrong in Key West. I was just trying to make it a good time for you. I thought it was a blast, all of it, and I thought you felt the same." He explains.

"It was fun, but maybe too much fun." My voice comes out low and shaky. "The way you treat me is way better than any guy ever has, and the way we are when we're together is so easy and I can truly be myself. The sex was amazing, but that's where I wanted it to end. I don't want want feelings involved, what so ever."

"I care about you."

"I care about you, too, but I think we're caring in the wrong way."

"What? So I can't have a few feelings for the girl I'm screwing? I have to be an emotionless robot?" He throws his hands up in the air and rolls his eyes. "You can't tell me you don't feel something for me, Stella."

I exhale sharply. I do feel something for him, and that's the problem. It's not okay, and I can't go forward with it. Why can he not understand that the feelings won't work for us? He gets up from the bed and crosses the floor, but instead of leaving he kneels down on his knees in front of me. I try to wheel my chair away but he grips the arm rests, holding me in place.

"Get away from me, Harry." I beg, staring up at the high ceiling to avoid his gaze.

"I know you have to feel something for me, too. I could tell in the way you touched me last night, the way you moved against me. It was different than before. We had an emotional connection, one that we could both feel, and one that was strong and passionate. Why won't you admit it?"

"Please leave." He was breaking down my protective walls, brick by brick.

"If you don't admit it, I'm never going to kiss you again, never going to lay another hand on you."

"Maybe that's what I want," I say, still avoiding his gaze. My walls will crumble in minutes if I look into those green eyes.

"No, that's not what you want. I know what you're feeling, but you're pushing it away. You're closing yourself off." Harry says. I can tell from his tone and the grittiness of his voice that he's getting annoyed.

How can he read me so easily? I stay silent and wait for him to leave, but he doesn't.

"Tell me, right now, that you have no feelings for me, what so ever, and I'll leave you alone. No more kissing, no more touching, no more fücking. I'll reprise my role of annoying adopted brother who you only have to associate with for family business."

It's what I need to do, but it seems I can't get the words to leave my mouth. I curse myself for developing feelings for him so quickly. Our physical relationship was hot and heavy and delicious, but I knew it would have to come to an end sometime. I just didn't think it would be so soon.

"Say it if it's really true. Just spit it out."

I steal a glance at his face, and seeing his smug expression gives me confidence. He thinks he's always right, and thinks I won't say it. Think again, Harry.

"I have no feelings for you. What. So. Ever."

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