Twenty Eight.

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I wake up with a slight headache and the absence of arms wrapped around me. Slowly, I sit up in the bed and wipe the sleep from my eyes, blinking until I can see properly. The large black and white clock on the wall tells me it's just past noon and I've wasted a bit of my Sunday already.

There's a light knock on the door before Harry pushes it open and steps into the room, already dressed for the day in his usual black jeans and a Pink Floyd T-shirt.

"Nice shirt," I compliment with a small smile.

"Thanks," he smiles back, his dimpled visible in his cheeks, as he takes a few steps into the room. His hair is wet probably from just having had a shower and appears to be nearly jet black. His green eyes pop in contrast with his dark hair and I can't seem to take my eyes off them. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess. I just have a small headache, nothing major," I shrug, running a hand through my messy hair. I look down at myself and realize I'm still in my dress from last night. "How did I get up here last night, I don't remember," I inquire, feeling myself blush when Harry chuckles. I couldn't have been too drunk to black out, I remember most of every detail from last night.

"You fell asleep in my car, I carried you up," he says quietly, walking forward and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Oh, thank you," I mumble as I feel myself flush once again.

"You're welcome," he says softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear and giving me a soft smile. He's really making it hard for me to resist the pull I feel from him, but still I don't recoil. "You weren't too happy about me wanting to help you last night," he chuckles, moving to lay across the bed propped up on his elbow so he can still see me.

"I know, I'm sorry," I cringe and can't help but laugh. Last night was my first night on the town in years and it started out well, but of course it had to end in somewhat of a train wreck. "Why did you show up anyways?"

"I was just a bit worried," he shrugs, pulling at a loose thread on the sheets. "I know how you can get with alcohol," he chuckles and I can't help but join in.

"I know," I admit. "You were never much better than me."

"I also had to drink a lot more to get wasted than you did. If I remember correctly most nights it was me taking care of you, not the other way around," he chuckles, his eyes still downcast.

"Okay, okay I get it," I laugh and roll me eyes. "But I'm not that person anymore."

His eyes shoot up to lock with mine, their color intense and as vibrant as ever. "I know," he mumbles, his voice clear and even.

Some sort of heaviness has mixed with the air in the room as we continue to look at each other. I wrack my brain for something to say, anything to say to fill the silence and get rid of this fluttering my stomach.

"So how was the rest of your day with Gemma?" I ask, averting my eyes from him and playing with the hem of my dress.

"It was great to spend time with her. I've really missed her," he mumbles.

I watch him for a few moments before I speak again. I watch the smallest frown appear on his face and I watch his chest rise and fall as he let's out a deep sigh. His usually bright eyes are dull and I can't help but want to pull him into my arms and bring the light back to them.

"How come you never talked about her?" I ask quietly, not completely sure of the type of response I'm going to get from him.

"I don't know, there was never really anything to say," he shrugs, his eyes downcast.

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