Chances || H.S.

4 | Keeping a Promise

Easton Campbell:

I laid in my bed for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling just trying to make any type of sense of what the hell happened over the last 12 hours. 

Harry fucking Styles was in my house. 

Not only was he in my house, he went down on me and gave me one of the best orgasms I have probably ever had. 

I wasn't lying when I told him that I decided in a split second that I had to talk to him or I would regret it for the rest of my life. But the shot thing? What the fuck was that?

I have never been so bold with a random stranger, but he looked so stressed for some reason. I wanted to take that from him for just a bit. 

I was planning on telling him that I knew who he was, but the minute he stepped foot in my apartment, I couldn't wait any longer. I had to feel his lips on mine. So selfishly, I ignored my mind which was screaming at me to tell the truth. 

I didn't mean to moan his name, but fuck the way he was eating me out as if it was the last meal he would ever have on this Earth, I couldn't stop myself. I was in a fog.

When I left him in my room it really hit me that I had said his name, and I half expected him to be gone when I came back, but surprisingly he was still there. I knew when he went stiff in my arms that it had hit him. 

I don't know what I was expecting, but as soon as he said he thought I was different, it hit a spot in me that hurt. I had heard that before and I hated it, but I despised it coming out of his mouth. He didn't even once think to ask my name. Asshole. I was even apprehensive to give him my number, but again, he sounded pretty sincere about apologizing for hurting my feelings.

When he was on the other side of my door I stood in my kitchen and damn near cried from just pure shock. I really know he would have flipped shit had I told him I was in the pit of last nights show. I don't know what I did for the universe to have granted me this once in a lifetime, storybook moment, but I knew I had to take the chance when I saw him standing at that bar alone. 

I roll over and grab my phone from the nightstand, deciding that sleep is just not in my cards anymore.

Eight in the morning. I let myself wonder if he will actually call me, but I am not getting my hopes up on that one. I lied to him and rightfully he was mad. So I sort of deserved it. Sort of. 

I flip through my apps and when I come across Instagram, I immediately go to his profile. I see that one hour ago, he posted a photo of him in that striking blue suit that basically had me dying on the inside when he came onto the stage. 

I like the post and then click my phone off deciding that it would probably be good to take a shower. But I honestly don't want to wash his scent off of me. Vanilla and musk, a scent that I had once only dreamt I would get to smell, now is on my skin. The way he teased me last night had me more pent up than I had ever been and his huge hands on my skin had me feeling like I could fly.

I strip from the t-shirt and pull my underwear off my body and turn the water on as hot as it will go. Wanting to steam up the room to activate the Eucalyptus that I have hanging from my shower head. For a brief moment, I let myself think about what would have happened if Harry would have actually stayed. 

Would we have cuddled? Would we have taken a shower together this morning? Would he had let me get on my knees for him? 

Hell, I would have done that for him last night if he had let me, but I think he truly wanted the focus to be on me. He was very easy to read, and I could tell it made him uneasy, but I was trying so hard to keep my guard up and not freak the fuck out. However, I wasn't lying when I told him that I really don't care that he is Harry Styles. I mean, I do, but I don't.