Anchor {h.s}

five

He turned his head slowly towards me but never met my eyes. “I guess I couldn’t sleep,” he finally admitted.

I put my coffee on my nightstand and turned to Harry. “Why?”

“I kept thinking about how I was a dick to you Sunday.”

“You couldn’t sleep because of that?” I asked in disbelief. Out of all the reasons he could’ve given me, this wasn’t one I thought he would bring up.

“I feel like you’re mad at me for that,” he explained.

“Well you were kind of a dick,” I agreed with a small smile. “But I’m not mad at you.”

He laughed with no humour before leaning against my shoulder. I looked at him from above, noticing the way his eyelashes rested carefully on his cheek and the slow movements of his chest as he breathed. His beauty always surprised me, it always felt as if I was short on air whenever I took a little extra time to take in his features.

“Are you sure you’re not still mad at me?” He asked after a short silence. His head turned in my direction and we looked at each other.

I sighed. “I can never really stay mad at you, you know that.”

He sat back up and looked at me shyly. “I’ll never understand why you stick around,” he admitted.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it softly to reassure him. “I don’t know,” I replied, although I knew exactly why I did.

My thumb caressed the back of his hand while I pressed a short kiss on the top of his head. He tensed for a second before focusing his eyes on our hand, then on me.

It was fascinating to witness how much his mood kept changing in only a matter of minutes. When he arrived, he was playful, when he sat in my bed, he became regretful, and when I grabbed his hand, I saw a determination that I knew all to well. Harry was overly sexual and it always surprised me how quickly and how little it took him to get in the mood.

I looked away, trying to avoid what I knew what was coming. “It’s hard to avoid you when you show up at my door at eight in the morning,” I tried to joke to change the mood, but failed miserably. A nervous laugh escaped my mouth as I met Harry’s eyes.

He knew exactly what he was doing and I cursed myself for not possessing more self-control when it came to him.

His hand grabbed mine tighter and he put down his coffee before tugging on my arm and pulling me to him. He let himself fall on his back and I ended up being on top of him.

Carefully he grabbed me by my hair and reduced the distance between our faces. He pressed a small kiss on my lips before putting his tongue in and intensifying the kiss.

What would happen next became clear and for a second, I couldn’t help but to feel sad. The last two times that I had seen Harry, Saturday night and Sunday afternoon, we had sex and right now, it looked like we were going to have sex again. As much as I enjoyed it, as much as I craved it, I couldn’t help but to feel like I was being used. Like he wasn’t hanging out with me as a friend anymore, but simply to have sex.

I pulled away quickly and Harry looked at me inquisitively. “What’s wrong?”

“Is that why you came here?” I asked him, unable to hold the tremor in my voice. “To have sex?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Em, shit. No,” he quickly denied. “I just thought… fuck I- I’m sorry.”

I got off of him and went on the other side of the bed, staying as far away as I could from him. My skin felt cold as I detached myself from him but I couldn’t handle being touched by him right now. As silly as I felt for asking him about his motives, I knew it had to come out eventually. Never had I voiced my discomfort towards our situation, because I barely thought that way, but today wasn’t the first time it occurred to me.