Heroin {harry styles}

20

"You're still here," I state, for lack of anything better to say.

He shrugs, "I told you I would be. What did you expect?"

"I don't know, but I was definitely hoping you wouldn't be here," I say with a glare, leaning against the wall by the door.

"I thought you wanted to go to bed," he completely switches topics.

"I do."

"Then why are you over there?" He smirks, his arrogant vibe beginning to come back. But it doesn't quite seem the same as it usually is.

If anything, the look in his eyes turns sort of playful, cutting some of the tension in the room.

But not much.

"Because you're in my bed."

"This is my house," his smirk widens. "And if anything, that's your bed," he points to the mattress leaning against the wall on the other side of the room. "I'm just letting you borrowing this one for now."

"I'm good, thanks," I stay standing in my place as far away from Harry as possible.

"Oh come on," he rolls his eyes. "Just get in the bed."

I shake my head no.

Harry scoots over towards the edge a little and scoffs. "Don't worry, I'm not going to take advantage of you," he says the last part making air quotes with his fingers. "That's gross anyways, you're a kid." He looks disgusted.

I don't move a muscle, still not saying anything.

"I'm not leaving. Get over here," his tone changes the slightest bit and I can tell he's on the verge of anger.

"You locked me in a basement."

"And I let you out," he argues back. "You could still be down there alone, but instead I'm here with you."

This is useless. I'm never going to win this argument. I might as well just give in now before he argues with me all night and gets angry again.

I hesitantly step forward and point a finger at Harry, "Don't touch me."

"Don't worry," he scoffs.

I roll my eyes and make my way over, climbing into the bed under the covers. Harry's sitting on top of the covers, and just from sitting next to him I can feel a little bit of heat radiating off his body.

Sitting with my legs criss-crossed about a foot away from him, I ask, "What now?"

"Now we get naked," he wiggles his eyebrows at me.

My eyes widen instantly and I back away from him.

Harry maintains eye contact for another second before he bursts out into laughter.

"Relax, Layla. I'm kidding. You're the last person I want to do that with."

The last person? That's a little harsh.

I'm not sure why that bothers me a little bit. I don't even want him to think about me like that at all, but the last person? Really?

Before that thought seeps any further into my brain, I push it out.

Nope.

Definitely not going to entertain that idea.

"Why are you here?" I sigh, relaxing back to how I was sitting before his rude joke.

"I don't know. Thought you might want some company."

"Not yours," I sass back and repeat, "You locked me in a basement."

"Well I'm here, so too bad," he smiles falsely. "And we've been over the basement thing."

"Not really," I mutter under my breath.

"What was that?" He asks.

"Nothing." Shoot, I hope he didn't hear that. "Can I sleep now?"

"I'm not stopping you," he shrugs.

I lay down and turn away from Harry, waiting for sleep to find me.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

But I'm still wide awake.

I flip over so I'm facing Harry, gazing up at him.

"I can't sleep."

He chuckles, but I don't understand what's funny. I'm so tired, but I can't fall asleep.

Harry takes a deep breath. "I'll help you."

"I don't want your help," I respond stubbornly.

"Then why'd you tell me that?" He asks.

"Because I need help," I flip over again, away from Harry, and nuzzle my face into the pillow.

Next thing I know, I feel Harry's weight leaning over top of me. Just as I'm about to yell at him to get off, he opens the drawer of the bedside table on my side. He pulls something out, and just as quickly as he was there, he's back on the other side of the bed.

I turn around again to see what he has, and he holds up The Catcher in the Rye.

"What chapter were you on?" He asks.

"I think eight."

Harry opens the book and begins reading. I have absolutely no clue what's going on in this book, but I focus in on the sound of his voice.

His accent drones on slowly, his voice rough as he gets into the book. This must be one of his favorites or something. I'm surprised he reads at all.

Turning over one more time away from Harry and listening to the boring story, my eyes begin to flutter shut.

And his surprisingly soothing voice is the last thing I remember before finally drifting off to sleep.

a/n
:)