Promise Me ╫ H. Styles A.U {ON HOLD BECAUSE OF REVISIONS}

Chapter Seven

=Chapter 7=

I wake with my face nestled into someone's neck, they're arms wrapped securely around my torso.

Aww, not again!

I thought I was done sleeping around with random guys; I thought I was over that phase of living alone. Ugh, how the hell am I supposed to go to the bathroom now?

I try to wiggle myself out of his hold, but to no avail.

"Oh, so help me god. If you do not let me go, I will piss on you." I growl as I shove him away, my hands on his chest.

A muffled groan leaves his lips as he releases me and spins to face the opposite direction, taking the covers with him. I quickly climb out of bed not taking time to really look at the guy. I quickly waddle to my bathroom and shut the door loudly behind me.

I really don't remember anything from last night- my memories all cloudy and fuzzy from the one too many drinks I consumed last night.

As I stand in the mirror I take in my appearance: hair all over the place, hazel eyes red and swollen, lips chapped. Hell, it looks like I've been partaking in the apocalypse. I shrug my shoulders and finish washing my hands before collecting a purple fluffy towel from the closet near the sink, and lay it on counter space.

I open the bathroom door and look over at my bed. A large lump lays lifeless, buried under my zebra printed duvet. I'm about to walk over and check his vitals before a loud snore rips through the quiet room.

"Well, at least you're still alive."

Walking over to my closet, I push the door open and step inside. I grab a pair of grey yoga pants and a pink Aztec print tank top before heading back towards my bathroom and run my bath. I pour in some lavender scented bath salts and swirl around the hot water letting them dissolve a little before climbing in.

I finally emerge out of the bathroom and glance at the alarm clock. 1:06. I thought it was a lot later than that. I must have woken up around noon. I see that my bed is smoothly made. Hmm, he has manners. The dull thrumming pain in my head drives me out of the room to the kitchen where I freeze and stand wide-eyed.

A shirtless guy stands in front of my stove cooking, his back muscles ripple with every movement. A mess of brown ringlets fall from his head. Harry? I slept with Harry? Of all people? Oh god.

What have I done?

I reach up and pull down a mug. I grab a tea bag out of the canister and set it in before filling the kettle and pushing Harry with my hip so I can heat up my water.

He doesn't say anything but he glances over at me every now and then as I lean against the counter, watching him.

"Did we have sex?"

His green eyes noticeably widen and bulge from his head. "God no!"

"Oh, good." I feel a stab of pain in my chest as I remember him shutting me out last night and being cold. The kettle whistles and I pull it off without another word to him.

I take my tea and sit down on a chair. He's still cooking and I never have had this before. He's the first guy in my life that has voluntarily made breakfast- well, I guess it's lunch time now but same difference.

"What are you making?" I ask between sips of tea.

"Bacon, eggs, toast."

"You're good at cooking right? I won't die will I?"

"Who said I was cooking for two?" He turns around and gives me a small smirk before turning back.

"Rude." I mumble under my breath. "Please make me some?"