Hitlist | h.s

Twenty-four

"More than a-" 

“Date me, Arielle.”

Date? Date Harry Styles?

My breathing halted as the beating in my chest quickened to the rapid speed of a jet plane and thudded so hard I would be surprised if he couldn’t hear. I didn’t know how to feel. My heart was warm and fluttery, urging me to stay while my mind told me to run away fast and don’t look back. I had ignored him successfully for a week, even though it was distressing. Who says I can’t just continue leaving him out of my life even if a part of me does want him in it?

“Harry, you know what’ll happen if we get ca-”

“No. I know what my gut is telling me,” he sternly interrupted, his teeth dancing with his bottom lip as his eyes burned into mine with such an intensity I feared that they might explode. “I need to start listening to my gut.”

The way his green eyes sparkled in the dimly illuminated room sent chills up my spine, their shocking hue taking me aback. I was completely frozen, at a complete loss for words as I struggled with what to say.

“W-what has your gut been telling you?” I harshly breathed, watching as his colossal hands snaked their way toward my sides, ghosting over my skin through the cotton encasing my body. I enjoyed the euphoric sensation of his touch more with every second that passed.

“That not telling you how I felt would be one of the worst decisions… and I’ve made plenty of those,” he sighed, his brows sewn in agony as his curls flopped about with the shaking of his head. “I can’t mess anything else up.”

“What does that mean?” You aren’t making any sense Harry,” I baffled, staring at his lips a moment too long before noticing just how close they were to mine, bringing my heart rates so fatally high that I was afraid it would burst. I could feel their warmth as they hovered in proximity, seeing his eyelashes bat with every blink. He looked like a page ripped from a teen magazine, his face swoon-worthy and able to catch any girl’s eye that looked his way.

“It means that this is right… telling you,” Harry raggedly breathed, the hot air shakily exiting him fanning gently over my face as his fingers danced their way to my hips. “I know it is.”

I nodded, staring into his eyes as his forehead pressed against mine, labored breaths working their way in and out of my lungs. In that moment, I couldn’t have hoped for anything more. It was just him, just me, and just the emotion that had been sparking between us for weeks that I had been pushing away. I was more at peace than I had been in a long time as I stared into his eyes, connecting my lips to his more gentle than ever before.

The kiss wasn’t like any I had ever partook in.

It wasn’t rushed or needy, nor was it rough. The way his hot mouth molded into mine created an explosion of fireworks, twisting my stomach to mush. It was slow and passionate, much like the way an artist perfects their work. The kiss was a work of art. He was a work of art.

“Arielle,” he breathed, grunting softly as his fingers gripped harder.

“Stay,” I needily begged, my lips still touching his while his breath lurched into my mouth. “Calum is gone. Don’t go.”

“So I saw,” he smirked, looking down at me with amusement in his eyes. “And smelled.”

“Please stay,” I peeped with a voice as weak as brittle bones, grabbing a fistful of the soft blue fabric of his shirt. “I don’t like being alone.”

Harry looked towards the cold hardwood floor, a few hairs tumbling over his face as his unstyled locks draped loosely and his face wrinkled in a painful anguish. I felt his long arms wrap around me, pulling me close to his body as I mindfully ignored the emotions bubbling upside of me, some good and some not so good.