What Goes Around... || H.S. Harry Styles

13.

EDITED TO FIX TYPO SORRY FOR CONFUSION

Tash opens her eyes and immediately closed them again. 

It had taken her a ridiculous amount of time to get to sleep last night, her heart thumping in her chest every time she heard Harry rustle on the sofa just a few feet away.

She can't fucking believe he slept in her apartment.  She squeezes her eyes a little tighter as she silently curses herself for her lack of self control whenever his lips are on her.

She had literally begged him to sleep with her last night and he had rejected her which, to be honest, she was slightly grateful for.  She had developed a tendency to make regretful decisions when it came to sex and for once it was kinda nice not to feel that.

But with the clarity of a new day upon her she was embarrassed by her forward advances and wishing she at least had a goddamn door on her bedroom so she could get her shit together without waking him.

His slow steady breathing is loud enough for her to hear and she peeks her eyes open and as quietly as possible, pushes herself up to sit in her bed.

A sweatshirt she had discarded, probably days ago, lies on the floor next to her and she slinks off her mattress and tiptoes over to pull it over her head.

"Morning," a raspy voice sounds suddenly behind her, startling her and making her jump with her arms in the air and her head caught in thick material.

He breathes out a chuckle before she pulls the sweatshirt down over her chin in a hurry, her hair covering her frazzled features as she spins quickly to face him only to stub her toe on her clothes hamper and squeal in pain as her butt unceremoniously hits the floor.

"Oh god.  Are you ok?" Harry rushes over to her where she is gripping her foot and grimacing.  She's biting her bottom lip and rocking forward and backward as the sharp pain starts to diminish and she nods, her face starting to heat up with embarrassment.

"You may have become some sort of confident temptress over the years," he smirks as he takes her hand to help her stand, "but you're still as clumsy as ever."

A laugh breaks through her lips and she pushes his shoulder back in jest.

Only then does she realise the skin she hit was bare, her smile dropping and her eyes glancing over his body covered in nothing but seven years of ink and a pair of black Calvin Kleins.

His artwork is all in black, the most prominent apart from the twin diving swallows below his collar bones are two laurel leaves tattooed above each hip, the stems curved down and dipping dangerously close to the band of his boxers and a solemnly dark but beautiful butterfly sitting proudly on his sternum. 

She wants to reach out and touch it, run her fingers delicately over the outline and feel the contrast of the sharp lines on his soft skin.

"Urgh, sorry," Harry interrupts her thoughts as he too realises he is in his underwear.

He rushes to pull on his black skinny jeans and she looks at her feet as his hands reach down to button them up over his bulge. 

She swipes her lips with strawberry chapstick and tries to fill the awkward silence.

"Umm, do you want coffee? Or I have tea, do you still drink tea?" She fumbles as she makes her way to her little kitchen and rummages through the cupboard to pull out a box of English Breakfast Tea bags.

"A tea would be great, thanks," he tells her as she frowns and checks for the date on the unopened packaging before letting out a little sigh of relief and looking back to smile at him.