This dress was tight-- too tight.

We were leaving for this house party in less than half an hour- and I felt as if I was about to die of suffocation already. Harry bought me the dress and the many bras and knickers he picked out earlier. I felt as if my chest was about to pop out pof my dress- but it was merely how the bra was designed. It was supposed to deliberately make my chest look big- and that saddened me. What was wrong with the size of my chest?

For the first time, I opened the box that contained a new pair of straighteners that my mother bought for me when I was sixteen. I never used irons on my hair- but Harry told me straight hair would make me look 'hot'. I wanted to clarify that I was straightening my hair out of curiosity- not because I wanted to please him.

My hair was now straight, although I didn't think there was anything that special about it. My makeup was okay- not that I was any good at applying it. The only problem was my dress- because it showed way too much skin.

I put a black sweater over my dress to hide my chest-- Of course, I cared about what Harry thought of me, but I cared more about what I thought of myself. And I didn't want my chest exposed to anyone.

I left my room after a long preparation and innocently strolled downstairs to meet Harry. He was dressed quite nice in his black skinny jeans, black shirt and jacket. He effortlessly looked so damn good.

"Yes- wait, no! Harley, what the fuck? Take that sweater off." He angrily spat, his face dropping at the sight of me.

"No."

"Harley- yes. I thought you wanted to look hot- not look like a fucking yeti." He scowled, anger fulfilling him as he crossed his arms and shook his head in disgust.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't tell you how to dress- so, don't tell me how to."

"Oh, my God- you're killing me." He sighed and put his head into his hands dramatically.

"I'm not showing my chest because you think it looks nice." I argued, my nostrils flaring. "I feel comfortable wearing this."

"Whatever-- I don't care about getting you friends anymore. I just want to get drunk."

He said these words as if they didn't hurt. "You can do that without me."

He softened suddenly, his arms swiftly uncrossing as he rolled his emerald eyes in impatience. "I'm sorry, okay? It's just... frustrating when we argue, I just want to shut you up by sticking my tongue down your throat."

I widened my eyes at his descriptive and bold words. "What the-"

"And you have no idea how hard it is to not do that. It gets me even more frustrated because I realise that you won't let me ruin you."

"It's wrong," I defended. "Sex is a gift from God."

He went blank as he exhaled and scratched his temple. "Just because you're you- We don't have to have sex, we can just do other things. Harley, you have no idea what impact you have on me. You keep saying no and it makes me more attracted to you. If you say yes then it's just you. So, just say yes so I don't have to find someone else."

"I'm not being used." I whispered, glancing at the floor to hide my embarrassment.

"You want to be used." He snarled.

"I don't."

I stuck by what I said completely, and after a few seconds he finally gave me a small nod- directing to the door. "Let's just go to the house party."

He drove us there on his motorcycle, like always. My arms were wrapped securely around him as I nuzzled my head into his back, hating the fact that I wasn't wearing a helmet. We stopped swiftly outside a large house which was alight and loud from music and laughter. He caught my hand before entering, an intent look on his face.

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