Right Where You Want Me

Chapter Six: Scars

CHAPTER SIX: SCARS

                That night, Harry stayed over. Not that kind of "stayed over." I mean stayed over as in slept on the floor next to my bed. And before you think I'm a horrible person for making Harry Styles sleep on the floor, I just want to say that it was his choice. I offered him a couch. Obviously, he refused.

                I woke to find the sun peering through the single window I had in my room, and settling right on my face. The sky was the bluest I had seen it in days, and I couldn't see a single cloud.

                Wiping my eyes to adjust to the light, I hopped out of bed. I was going to wake Harry, but he slept so peacefully, and I decided to let it stay that way. Tip-toeing, I walked out of my room, closing the door behind me.

                Next, I made my way into the bathroom and showered, hoping Harry would sleep through that. Otherwise, it may be a bit awkward.

                I finished my shower and changed into some random clothes in the bathroom, because most of my clothes were in my bedroom. To my surprise, I had put on Harry's shirt from the party the other day. He must have left it here.

                Wiping a towel across the mirror, I cleared a small spot where I could see. Although what I saw, made me jump a bit.

                It was only Harry, nothing frightening, but his presence surprised me. It was just Harry, standing in the doorway, leaning against the framing.

                One look at him, and I was in awe. How could someone be so perfect...even after a long night of sleeping? But he was. His brown curls were uneven and messy, as they hung over his eyes. His skin was looked soft and had a fresh glow to it. His eyes were swirled, and concentrated on me. And his lips...they looked inviting. His smile just made them more inviting.

                "Well, good morning," I smiled as I dug into the drawer and pulled out a comb, that I ran through the blonde mess on my head that you might call hair. I would call it a pain.

                He smiled too, but didn't move an inch. Not a single muscle. He just watched me.

                I looked back into the mirror, noticing the mascara residue left over under my eyes. I reached over and grabbed the hand towel, and dipped it into the running water. Then, I wiped it across my face, taking time to wash off the left over makeup under my eye. I reached for my foundation.

                Harry slowly walked up behind me, and took the foundation out of my hand. I gave him a questioning glance.

                He took the foundation and put it in his back pocket. "Not needed." He whispered.

                I looked at him. Was he alright?

                I ran my hand over his leg and onto his back pocket, reaching in ever so slightly, when he grabbed my hand ever so gently.

                "Harry, can I have that?" He smiled bigger. "Pretty please?" I blinked my eyes multiple times, letting my eye lashes flutter for emphasis.

                "Why?" He kept his face straight.

                "Because I need to get ready. Megan is back in town and wanted to grab lunch today. You should probably get ready too. Don't you..." he stopped me, putting his finger on my lips. It was so soft.

                "Why do you try so hard to be beautiful, when you're already flawless?"

                "Harry, I don't know what you're seeing, but I am far from ..." He silenced me again.

                This time, he pulled me up next to him, until the space between us was gone. He traced his fingers across my cheek and pushed his thumb across my eyes lightly. I looked down, and he cupped my chin, making me look into his eyes. He planted a small kiss on my lips.

                Then, his attention shifted to my shoulder. He gave my shirt, well his shirt, a small tug, pushing it off my shoulder just slightly. Just enough to see my scar.

                I guess I should explain right about now.

                When, I was little, after my parents died, my aunt had hired multiple babysitters to watch me while she worked. I remember one babysitter specifically. Her name was Charlotte.

                Charlotte was one of those people, where if you stay out of her way, she will stay out of yours. So, I had convinced her to take me to Harry's house one day, while my aunt worked a double shift.

                Once we were there, Harry immediately wanted to go play on his new swing set, and I was so excited. After a while of playing "Ship," we decided to play "Man Down." In this game, one of us would be falling down the slide, while the other used a jump rope to save them and pull them up.

                Well, Harry wanted to be the first "Man Down," so he started to fall down the slide. I got the jump rope, and after he grabbed it, I pulled him up. We were giggling around, when I lost my hold and ran into a wood siding, with my shoulder, and boy, did it bleed.

                I ended up going to the hospital and getting twenty stitches. Not fun. I've had a scar ever since, and I could tell Harry blamed himself. It wasn't his fault, but he always acted like it was.

                The sad thing was that I was so insecure about the scar, that I usually only wear tee shirts. Occasionally, I'll wear a tank, but they weren't my favorite. With swim suits, I had nowhere to run.

                Harry still had his eyes on my scar when I looked up at him. He bent over slightly, laying a gentle kiss on the scar's surface, then another one on my neck, then my chin, and finally, up to my lips. I kissed back, putting my whole body into it, and wrapping my arms around his neck. He moved his hands to my waist, moving us even closer if that was possible.

                Five minutes passed quickly, when Harry pulled away. Meanwhile, I was still lost in the kiss. He dropped his hands, pulling my hands down as well, and planted a tiny kiss on each hand, before walking away.

                I quickly snapped out of it, and faced the mirror once more. I turned on the water again, letting it run through my fingers for a few seconds before splashing some onto my face. I blindly reached for my towel, feeling around the counter.

                Once I wiped my face, and my eyes specifically, I noticed Harry in the corner of the mirror, turning on the shower, shirtless and pant-less. I quickly glanced at the shower as he checked the water's temperature.  

                Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. "Do you want me to leave or..." I was stopped in the middle of the sentence when I noticed his big hands reaching down and grabbing a hold of his boxers. They prepared for a strong tug.

                                                                                TO BE CONTINUED...