Dust Bones [Harry Styles]

033

chapter song; climax by Usher 

I think I was drawn to him by his confidence. His ability to be fully certain of the things he does. His ability to deeply feel at place no matter where he is. Or the way he effortlessly seems like he knows what he's doing. He's never wrong, never uncertain. Always confident. 

Harry tossed a folder of papers onto the desk, sinking down into the leather seat. At the sight of it, my memories filled of last night on that chair.

My cheeks flushing with heat, I carefully leaned back into the couch, my knees pressed to my chest as I examined a map that Harry had spread across the coffee table. 

The arguments stopped. Our consistent hatred that spiraled up higher every time took a heart-stopping sink. I didn't know what was going through his mind, but he more than likely knew what was on mine. 

What his lips felt like on mine -- completely different than any guy I've ever kissed in my life. And maybe it was because every touch was rebellious, thrilling. 

He thrilled me. He kills people for my father. That should disgust me, horrify me. No, it thrills me. Not necessarily the killing part, but the rest of it. The fearless, cold, impressively intelligent and skilled parts. 

I stood up and walked to the kitchen. On my toes, I leaned forward and reached for two glass cups. I filled each with a pink, fruity juice that tasted much like pomegranate that has been sitting in the fridge since he had gone out. 

When I turned around, I was startled to find Harry leaning against the fridge. At this, my eyes subconsciously widened and I took a sharp breath.

Heart in my throat, I gulped and laughed out, "You scared me." 

Harry didn't reply, his pale green eyes deeply watching me directly in mine. I stared back, not finding what else to do. It didn't take long until staring became intimidating. Underneath his gaze, I felt as if all the thoughts inside my mind that once were all came back.

"I'm sorry," he apologized for it, but he didn't sound sincere at all. 

"Are you sure? Because you don't sound the slightest bit sincere," I raised my eyebrows, finding the corner of my lips turning up into a playful grin. 

Only difference was -- Harry wasn't playful. "I don't apologize if I don't mean it. But I did just now, so I meant it," he lowly stated, eyes still staring into mine very deeply. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

I parted my mouth to speak, yet nothing seemed to come out. My eyebrows began to furrow. I then said, "Then there's a lot you should apologize for, right?" My voice was soft, though not a doubt of assertion underlying it.

Harry's lips curved into a noticeable, flawless, cocky smirk. He raised his chin and released his arms, raising his large hands up slowly. "Slow down, Dollface. One apology at a time." 

I scoffed, shaking my head as I tried to conceal the grin trying to take over my lips. The line of my vision averted to the floor between us, which by measurement, was not a lot.

"I might just have to shoot you to get them out of you." I told him quietly, peering up at him as I leaned my back onto the kitchen island. 

His pale green eyes watched me, eyebrows raising. "Shoot me?" He repeated to himself lowly. The same smirk faded a little, but it was still there and still very apparent. I held onto the edge of the island, knuckles flushing white with my hold as I watched him walk to me. 

He cocked his head to the side, smirking down at me as my toes nearly touched his and the fabric of his pants grazed against my thighs. Those strong arms of his hooked around my body, and his own hands grabbed the edge of the marbled surface behind me.