Personal Assistant ➵ H.S.

20

It was safe to say you were all nursing some killer hangovers the next morning. But, relaxing in the hot sun by a glistening pool definitely made it much more bearable.

Emmy was surprisingly feeling the best; clearly by emptying the contents of her stomach last night had done her a world of good - which was very frustrating for the rest of you who couldn't relate in the slightest.

Harry was feeling some added frustration too, since Emmy dragging you with her to the toilets meant he wasn't able to speak to you after his last performance of the night. Truthfully, he wasn't even sure what he was going to say to you, all he knew was that he had a burning desire to get you alone and do what he'd meant to do so long ago - kiss you again, yes, but also explain everything that had happened.

For some reason he'd been able to control that need to clarify the whole deal with Charlotte, to untangle the probably incorrect image you had of Harry and her, for a while. But now that he was faced with what he was missing in you, so much more than usual, he knew he had to get it off his chest soon.

And when you joined them at the poolside loungers, wearing a cute, but incredibly sexy yellow bikini and a big floppy sunhat paired with dark sunglasses, grumpy pout on your full, kissable lips, it was the sweetest form of torture Harry had ever experienced. All he could think of was hoisting you up, over his shoulder and marching you both straight back up to bed where he could have slow hangover sex with you again, and again, and again.

But alas, patience Styles, not yet.

You came and sat down on a sun-bed next to his, "Hey, we're matching!" You smiled fondly, gesturing to the small yellow swim shorts that adorned Harry's lower body.

He smirked up at you, glad his eyes were hidden by his Ray-Bans as his pupils were blown out and darkened by lust, "Oh yeah, so we are."

"Ooh that's cute, big-shot record label manager and his assistant coordinate outfits," chirped Emmy.

You scrunched your nose up at your best friend, "We'll have to communicate next time Harry, matching outfits are so last year," you joked, punching him lightly on his already tanned bicep.

He clutched his arm in mock pain, face squeezed up in feigned hurt as you rolled your eyes and giggled at his silliness, "You're right, can't be see like that - you go change cos I was down here first."

"Yeah, be lucky Styles...could you rub my back in please?" You asked innocently, holding out the brown suncream bottle to him.

Gulping, and adjusting his swim shorts discreetly, a slightly strained, "Sure," left his parted lips.

You smiled gratefully in response, before pulling your hair round your left shoulder and sitting up a bit straighter.

Harry squeezed the creamy liquid on his open palm, taking a deep breath before starting to massage the cream onto your shoulders. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as his hands worked their way across your shoulders, long fingers reaching to graze across your collarbones and neck. You couldn't help but lean back into his touch, savouring in the way his hands slowly trailed down to hook under your bikini strap to make sure he didn't miss a single spot. Take it off, take it off, you had to hush your subconscious dirty thoughts and remind that voice that he was just putting suncream on you - a purely licit act any friend would do. But from the way your toes were curling and a wetness was developing between your thighs, you couldn't even convince yourself.

Harry absolutely loved the way your body was reacting to him; he wanted to carry on running his hands over the rest of your body to see the way you squirmed and clenched your thighs together, thinking he wouldn't notice. There was a mischievous glint in his eye when he realised this was his chance to do the teasing and have the upper hand.