Irresistible (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

73: Small Comfort In A Terrycloth Robe

I just wish I knew what I did wrong to cause such an abrupt reaction. Was it because he was doing all the work? I can see how that gets annoying. I should have used my hands or kissed him harder, taken more of the initiative... but I thought I was doing that when I went to pull off my bra and started rubbing down on him.

Perhaps it wasn't enough but how couldn't it have been when I basically offered to have sex with him?

It certainly felt enough. I've never experienced him quite that hard and ready for action before but then again I had never wanted him that badly.

And I know I didn't hurt him because if I had he wouldn't have let me get away with it without a deep groan and a cheeky comment.

No, Harry just didn't want me in that way, plain and simple.

I choke back a sob and beg myself not to cry, my whole body seizing up from trying to contain myself so I don't emotionally explode on my pillow.

My blood runs cold when I hear the shower shut off and although I'm terrified, I'm torn between going in there and standing up to him or staying safe in the confines of this warm bed.

To be fair though, I am naked under here and given what's happened I doubt I have to confidence to look him in the eye let alone stand up to him.

There's no question, I'm going to stick with the latter. All questions will just have to wait for tomorrow. I'm too tired and rejected to move right now.

The soft mattress and the heavy duvet gradually start to warm me from the outside in, as each one of my muscles starts to relax and succumb to the darkness that surrounds me.

But no matter how many deep breaths I take or how hard I try to think of something else, my heart still sits heavy in my chest, weighing me down and acting as a constant reminder of the possibility that the man it beats for might not feel the same for me anymore.

He's just in the other room and I miss him.

I really, really miss him.

With every shuddering breath, I miss him more and more.

My eyes well up thinking of him on the other side of the wall, imagining him pushing his fingers through his wet hair in front of the mirror and how the towel wraps low on his hips showcasing his fern tattoos that border the deep lines that travel underneath the plush white towel.

I've watched his routine so many times and I took it for granted.

How foolish to not cherish it while I had it.

It might be premature to think of everything in the past tense but when your boyfriend rejects you when you're practically naked and extremely vulnerable doesn't bode well for a bright and fruitful future.

If I could be rational right now I'd try and think of all the positive reasons he might have for leaving but I'm too exhausted to hope for them let alone think of them. My thought process lies solely on the small comfort that comes from laying in this bed and how sunken and empty I feel.

Maybe when he goes to bed I'll run downstairs and grab Prince to come to sleep here with me. I'll probably have to bring Lea too or she might yelp the house down. Or she'd probably go find Harry. I don't think I could bare that though. That adorable little puppy was a representation of our little family only hours ago but now what are we?

I keep replaying our time in the hot tub in my head and it's agonizing, my whole body numb with pain by the mere thought of it.

We were two people in love and acting on it. I was finally showing him with my body rather than telling him how I feel and he was enjoying it. His body was telling me he was enjoying it but he couldn't have been given his final reaction.