There’s about an hour until we have to be at dinner, and about twenty minutes that it’ll take me to walk to Harry’s. I am proper screwed, I think.
Don’t get me wrong- yes, I am glad that we’re going to get something to eat with Zayn and Liam rather than just running into them, you know, whenever. But I wasn’t too glad when I figured out I had a freaking pastel techniques class until 6:00. And dinner’s at 7:30. The hectic social life of a college student is definitely something they forgot to tell you in the application.
So that’s where I am now, I guess. Wearing the fanciest sweatshirt (Is it possible for sweatshirts to be fancy? Mine falls just above my knees and has a huge snowflake on it, which is probably too soon since it’s not even Thanksgiving yet. It could be a dress, if I’m honest with myself. It’s just cold.) and the nicest pair of black jeans that I have (along with some boots that Harry has lent me; they’re a bit big, but, I’ll take whatever free shit I can get.).
Savannah is breezy in the fall, so I was a tad surprised when Harry begged me to walk over to his dorm this morning.
“I’m so tired, Lennon. I’d invite you to come over and have a cuddle if you didn’t have a stacked schedule today,” he had complained as I left my dorm, walking to work. If there’s one thing that people don’t want in Savannah, it’s record players. We maybe got 100 customers a week? I’m surprised the store is still open, if I’m honest.
“What’re we gonna do about dinner tonight, then?” I asked. “We are a couple, you know. Couples are usually seen together.”
“Wow, Lennon. I didn’t know the title of being your boyfriend meant we had to be seen together. Thanks for letting me know!”
“Damn,” I laughed, taking a sip out of my coffee as the wind started to blow harder. “Tired and a sarcastic bitch. We don’t have to go, you know.”
“No! I want to go. I’ll be ready at 7, yeah? We can walk over together. Pick me up?”
This caused me to raise my eyebrows, although I knew that he couldn’t see. “Gender equality. I like it.”
“Please?” he had asked, and. We all know that I have problems with saying no to Harry Styles.
After I’ve walked into his building (and taken the elevator, because God knows that I’ve already ran around enough today), his room seems to be locked. It’s no problem, though. I have a spare key that he gave me a week ago, muttering something about how I’m already here enough and might as well move in. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, really, so I’ve taken the liberty of gradually moving my things into his place. Maybe, I think, he won’t notice if I’m here 6/7 days of the week. It’s not like he minds, anyways. He loves my company. He loves me. He even said the latter to my face!
In his dorm, Harry is definitely not ready. Far from that, actually- lying on his bed with a blanket curled around him, hair all messy as he breathes heavily. I can’t help but grin at his pouted lips, not minding that we might be late to our first couple outing, like, ever. (I don’t think this even counts as a date, really.) I’m not mad, though; I could watch him like this all day if we weren’t running on a schedule.
I pick up the computer resting on his chest, setting it on the floor right after I catch what’s on the screen. It’s a Netflix tab- gossip girl, it reads. And shit. Harry can’t start getting into this, no way. The people that watch Gossip Girl sound like they’re in a cult when they talk about it.
My body slides under his little bundle of covers, the warmth radiating from him. I scoot to where we’re close- my nose touching the side of his cheek. Harry let’s out a grumbled moan, rolling over in his spot as he tries to get more comfortable. His face is turned towards me, now, lips aligned. Smiling, I press my lips to his slowly, trying to get a reaction. He doesn’t respond, though, so I plant another kiss to him and apply a little more pressure- nibbling and sucking a bit on his bottom lip. Finally he hums against my lips, instinctively throwing an arm around my body and pulling me in close.
“What a wake-up call,” Harry murmurs against my lips, eyes still shut with sleep. He goes back in for another kiss, lazily meeting my lips with his. “I could get used to this.”
“Don’t,” I smile, lips parted against his.
“I already am, though,” he defends, nibbling on my lip a bit (which emits a giggle from me). “You’re going to have to come over every day, now.”
Though there’s obviously still a lull in him, his strong arms grab both of my sides and pull me on top of him. We kiss languidly and lazily the whole time, his hands rubbing circles into my hips until they reach under my sweatshirt. I’ve always loved kissing Harry in this position- there’s just much better access like this.
Harry whines when his hand is against my tanktop, though. “Why is everything so tight?” He asks, confused. “And why’re you wearing two tops?”
I laugh, curling my fingers into his hair. “I look cute today, babe,” I say into his mouth. “Do you really want me to freeze to death out there?”
“You’re trying to make my life harder, aren’t you?” he says, hands resting against my bum as he pulls me closer. “You’d look cuter with less clothes on.”
“I’m flattered, Harry,” I say, rolling my eyes as he plants a series of feathery kisses on my lips. “Really.”
We stay like that for a few more minutes, making snide comments and laughing against each others mouths. It’s great and lovely and there’s so many butterflies in my stomach it’s ridiculous. If this is love- wanting to stay with someone and just kiss them all the time- then I can definitely roll with this.
It’s great until I look at the time and shit, we have to be there in 15 minutes.
Suddenly I roll off of him, causing him to make a confused noise as I fall gracefully onto his carpet. “Did you hurt yourself, love?” he asks, leaning over the side of the bed and smirking at me.
“Doesn’t matter!” I say enthusiastically when I stand up, attempting to drag him out of bed now. “Get up, babe.”
“You should move in with me,” he tells me, an amused look on his face as he stands up, placing a hand in mine. “You can be my personal alarm clock and we can snuggle. And I love you. It’ll be a sleepover every night!”
Though I can’t tell if his words are serious, there’s something in my stomach that soars at that. “Speaking of sleepovers,” I start, rummaging his closet for a nice jacket, “I saw you were watching Gossip Girl. Niall’s told me that he’s seen your dick, H. Am I, like, your beard?”
(I don’t miss the groan that comes from him at the words, and I also don’t miss it when he spins me around and kisses me hungrily.)
“If you were my beard, trust me- I wouldn’t kiss you like you were fucking dessert.”
YOU ARE READING
Inked > h.s au {DISCONTINUED}
Fanfictionit's college, and the lines are bound to draw themselves, eventually. (or, when a girl named lennon takes an art class that's too early in the morning with a professor who smiles too much and a boy that doesn't seem to care at all.) "This world is b...
