Medley

11: DONE.

If this morning someone told me my day was going to end with me sitting on Harry Style's lap making out with him I would've personally driven them to the nearest mental institution. Yet this is as real as it gets.

His right hand is running up and down my back while the other is dangerously making its way up my leg. He rested it on my ankle at first, but then started drawing figures with his fingers on my shin and now it sits suspiciously still on my knee.

With the new seating arrangement, I've gained mobility of my upper extremities, so my right hand is holding on to his left shoulder for support while my left arm is wrapped around his neck and my fingers all tangled up in his long, long locks. Our lips are swollen and red. I can feel the bulge in his pants starting to grow beneath me.

My pulse is racing and I need more. My right hand wanders from his shoulder across his collar bone and then my fingers trace the V of his t-shirt's neckline once, twice, three times to take a trip slowly down his chest, past his stomach and ending their journey at the end of his shirt.

When I try to sneak my hand inside his clothes to be able to touch his abs without any fabric in-between, Harry gets a strong grip on my hand and before I can act I'm being laid on my back on the couch with both of my hands pinned over my head by only one of his.

The smug expression painted on his face shows how proud he is of himself for having so much control over me at the moment.

We both attempt to say something but we are so out of breath that we use this little transition to do some deep intakes of air and we end up simply giggling like two school children who've kissed for the first time hiding behind the playground.

Harry lets go of my hands and positions himself on top of me, one knee on each side of my thighs. He's hovering over me, staring in silence for a few seconds that feel like hours before his hair starts falling on my face.

I lift my hands and push the curls behind his ears, then grab his face and pull him closer to me. I kiss the corner of his mouth as he mumbles something that sounds a lot like "so beautiful" and we lose ourselves in a kiss so passionate I can't shake the abrupt realization that I've never felt this before.

Whatever 'this' is.

I haven't been touched this tenderly in so long the hairs on my skin bristle at the slightest contact with his fingers that are now moving slowly up my thigh.

As the need to take his shirt off overwhelms me, uneasiness starts creeping up on me. If we don't stop right now there's no doubt in my mind we're going to end up having sex right on this couch, in this place, that my friend's dad owns.

There's no way we can pause and make it to his hotel or my apartment, it's too late for that. If we stop I will question everything until I talk myself out of it, I know it.

We never got a chance to lock the door.

What if someone walks in on us?

What if that person recognizes me and tells Mr. Easton?

What if someone I know sees me leaving?

What if Mr. Easton is still here?

Suddenly, I can't breathe. All I can think about is how it's the wrong time and place for this. But all I can feel is his hand raising the skirt of my dress up an inch higher with every gentle stroke of my skin. I'm trying with all my being to sit up and push him off me so I can pick up whatever is left of my dignity and go home.

But he's kissing my neck and the scent of his perfume mixes with the smell of his shampoo and together they invade my senses and I am too dizzy to move.

But I have to.

I'm not sure where the determination comes from, but I do it. I sit up, forcing Harry to do the same and get him kneeling on the couch. For a minute we stay there motionless. I can't turn my face to look at him, the room is spinning around me and if I'm not recovered when I meet his eyes, I'll be caught in their magnetic field again and I won't be able to do anything to stop it this time.

"Is everything okay?" His voice is full of concern. So is the frown on his face.

I'm still trying to catch my breath and deciding how to handle this, that's why I don't answer right away.

"Are you okay, Emi? Did I do something wrong?"

I can't believe he's asking me if he's done something wrong! He was doing everything right, so much so that I was willing to go through with this despite all the doubts I had earlier.

But I won't tell him that.

"No, you did nothing wrong."

"Then what happened?" He's very confused and I don't blame him. No girl in her right mind would ever reject him like I just did.

"I'm sorry, I just can't do this. Not here, anyway."

"Is this about who owns this place?" I'm glad he figured it out on his own and I don't have to explain myself too much.

"Yes, if anyone that knows me... I- I'd feel terrible."

"I understand, I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for. It's my fault for letting it get that far."

"Do you regret it?"

"What? No! I didn't mean it like that! What I'm saying is, I knew I couldn't let it happen. Not here, not like this. So, I should've stopped it sooner, I'm sorry."

I stand up and pick my purse up from the coffee table, he sits on the couch covering the consequence of our recent encounter with a cushion.

I turn to face him hoping to get over the goodbyes rather fast so that I can walk my shame back home as soon as possible. But he gestures for me to sit on the table opposite him and I comply.

"Is it too late to invite you to come with me to my hotel?" He's flushing, it's kind of cute.

"Yes, I've regained my sanity now."

"You think what we were doing was insane?"

"Yeah, a bit. I mean, I've only known you for like, what? Two, three hours?"

"So what? We are adults who like each other, right?"

"Right, but I don't want to waste your time and change my mind mid-drive there. This isn't- ...I don't know what got into me." I get up once more. "It's time for me to go."

This moment is just one line out of The Band Perry's song Done.

"I don't wanna be your 'just for fun'."

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DONE - The Band Perry.