Cabin Three // h.s. au

s e v e n

"Yeah. Go... Go and have," I paused, feeling drugged from fatigue, "fun." She nervously laughed, rubbing her hand on my back.

"Are you feeling well?" She asked, voice soft.

"Yeah, I just... My peach. It fell." She giggled and kissed my cheek, getting up.

"I'll see you later, darling." She walked away, and I was left alone with only one peach slice. I sighed and pushed my tray to the side, letting my head fall on the table.

Letting out a long groan, I got up, ignoring the quiet words coming from the young ladies' mouths, until I dumped my tray.

I walked back outside, looking around the camp. My mind was too tired to take in the beautiful scenery around me, as I stumbled to the small cabin.

My fist collided with the wooden door, as it slowly opened to reveal the very tired, as well, Harry.

His hair was wild and pressed down on the side, but sticking straight up in the front. His lips were dull and pooched, with small dried saliva in the corners. His eyes were hardly open, circles of sleep creating a halo around them. But lastly, and most gloriously of all, was the fact that the only thing on him was a blanket, wrapped around his waist, tucking up so that he had no need to hold it.

Holy mother of God.

His arm was flexed, holding himself up. He cleared is eyes with his left hand, before looking up at me for the first time. I regained my composure, not allowing him to notice his effect on me. I raised an eyebrow looking unimpressed with his appearance.

I deserve a f.ucking Oscar.

He smirked at me, opening his mouth, however I opened mine first.

"Entertain me, Styles." He smirked even harder, leaning away from the door and backing up.

"Please, enter my humble abode," he said softly, but with undoubted rasp and sleep in his voice. Maybe this wasn't a very good idea.

I glanced around his small cabin in my sleep-illusion state. It was small, the same wooden panels that covered my walls covered his. His bed was crowned with a shelf of books hovering above the headboard. Small wooden tables freckled all across his floor. A flannel plaid comforter clothed his queen sized mattress. A window in the ceiling cast sunlight down on where his head would be if he were sleeping. I turned my attention to the dimly lit side of the room, breathing loudly when I spotted a television.

"Harry Styles, you did not tell me you had a television in your cabin." He chuckled and fell back on his bed, letting out a breath as he crashed.

"Yeah, I practically live here, so yeah." I let out a weird moan-ish sigh, pained by my lack of TV.

"We have to watch something."

"No." I turned around with a pout on my tired face.

"Why not?"

"I've been assigned to entertain you, so we're going to work on that 'friends' thing I was telling you about."

"Friends? You watch Friends?"

He straightened up. "I have every season."

"Oh my gosh, we have to watch it."

"No, that isn't what I was talking about." I pouted.

"What?"

"Just, sit down." I looked around. He had a bright orange chair from most likely the seventies near his refrigerator.

There's the bowl that held the c.ondoms I stole.

I stumbled to the chair before his loud groan echoed through the cabin. "No, I meant on my bed." My body was still and my eyes were wide as I stared at him like a deer in headlights. My movements were delayed under his keen supervision, to the bed, slowly taking a seat on he soft, cushiony bed.