Staring out my hotel window
Too much on my mind
Maybe we should keep it simple
We don't have to decide
Oh no, we don't need to over-complicate it
Things between Harry and I were... well, awkward.
To say the least.
It felt as though that night when I told him we should put some distance between us was all just a drunk mess, but both of us could remember it clearly. More than clearly, actually. It had been three days but I was still replaying that specific moment in my mind like a broken record.
We were now in Buenos Aires, staying at a house I owned in Puerto Madero. I was a lucky bitch about owning the house myself, since I knew there was an extra room. I didn't want to make things more awkward than they already were.
Now, Harry and I only talked to each other when we met around the house. Yes, I was certain that we were completely overreacting to our situation, but Zayn's phone call had freaked the fuck out of me and I really didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.
I had a hunch, a very bad one, that Zayn had found out about what happened with Harry. Something about it felt different to me, so I guessed it felt different to Zayn too.
What sucked the most was that I was still on my period. The cramps were lighter and more manageable, but they were still there. I knew they would be gone in one or two more days, but it felt like a very long fucking time.
In order to tone down the soreness, I had been smoking. Regular cigarettes at first, but then I remembered the stash of weed I had in my bag and just went for it. I had spent my last three nights stoned as fuck, which was both good and bad at the same time.
Good because I forgot everything for a while, which included my nerves, cramps and stress. But bad because I forgot everything for a while, so I had no idea if I had ran into Harry or what the hell had happened.
I had decided to stop thinking about it, because weed was a godforsaken masterpiece and I wasn't fucking giving up on it. Forgetting everything was a huge advantage to me either way.
It had been a while since I smoked actual marijuana, I had spent the whole previous year smoking regular cigarettes because I wanted to take care of myself. At least a bit. Well, I basically just said 'fuck it' and went for it, because my health was ruined already.
I knew the weed I had left in my bag was enough for 12 or 15 more joints, which was a whole damn lot for one person, but I really didn't care enough to overthink about it. I had other things in mind.
The next trade would be in the Fortabat Museum, in Puerto Madero. I had been there before and it was actually really nice, but I knew we wouldn't have time to enjoy the place.
The exchange would happen at 2:37 sharp and I fucking hated how exact the time would be. We had been informed that the diamond would be in the other man's hands when the clock hit that time, so we would have to be really on guard.
I knew the museum was empty on weekdays, which was an advantage because we would be able to recognise the guys more easily. But yet, this time we had absolutely no description on the people we had to look for. We didn't know if there was going to be security guards at all and I was freaking out already.
My plastered brain was struggling with thinking at the moment, because the dose of marijuana in my system was messing with me.
In fact, I wasn't even trying to think. I was too busy laughing at my reflection on the flatscreen.
"Natalie?" Harry showed up from the hallway.
He had tired eyes and messy curls, which was clear evidence that he had just woken up. I mean, yeah, it was around 3 a.m.. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and he was squinting his eyes at me.
"Harry, hey!" I smiled at him, though the words sounded like a slurred mess.
The joint was still in between my fingers, leaving a trail of smoke behind. The smell of the fume was stuck in my nostrils, but I was way too high to even notice.
"What are you doing?" He rubbed his eyes, walking towards the couch and sitting next to me.
"Getting high." I took the joint to my lips. "Have you ever smoked weed?"
Harry directed his eyes to me, which were still half closed, "No."
"Try it." I placed the blunt in front of his face, exhaling my own puff out.
Harry hesitated before hooking his fingers on the spliff and taking it to his mouth. He wrapped his lips around the joint and sucked in a deep intake, seeming as though he needed it more than I did.
Now that I took a minute to look around, I was finally feeling his hand placed on my thigh and part of his body weight next to me. The proximity felt good, I really missed it.
I examined his chiseled side profile as he drew out the smoke, feathering his eyes shut and tossing his head on the backrest of the sofa. He looked so perfect like this, his bedhead appearance was so fucking cute it made me want to scream.
"How many of these have you had?" He motioned his head towards the joint on his hand.
"Four maybe? I really can't remember." I snorted at my own words, but Harry's eyes widened in shock.
"Natalie, that's too many." Harry shook his head lightly, though I really couldn't understand why he cared.
"So?" I shrugged, smirking a bit because the weed had hit me real hard.
I closed my eyes, feeling the tingling spreading all across my body. I liked it, I really did. The feeling was more evident on the place where Harry had placed his hand, and I wasn't sure what that meant.
"So? It's bad for your health, Nat." Harry scuffled. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"I'm not trying to get myself killed! I just... I like it," I shrugged like a little kid. "I guess I never stopped to think about what the consequences could be. The feeling doesn't... you know, it doesn't hunt me."
Harry shook his head in disapproval, but I couldn't tell what he was feeling. Maybe he was angry? He didn't look like it, and my brain was definitely playing tricks on me.
A single curl fell on his eyes, but he didn't bother to fix it back up. I followed the line of his jaw upwards, noticing for the first time how sharp it actually was.
As an impulse, I raised my hand to trace it. I noticed his muscles tensing at the sudden touch, but he kept his eyes fixated on me while he held the cigarette high on his hand.
"You have a very sharp jaw." Was all my stoned brain could blurt out.
"I know." He shrugged, lowering his gaze to my lips briefly. "You have very beautiful lips."
"I know." I stated his own words, the boldness being result of the weed. "Wanna feel them?"
Harry's eyes immediately shot upwards, establishing eye contact for a little longer than I expected, "Can I kiss you?"
"I'm not sure if that's a good idea..." I bit my lower lip out of indecision. "But I live for bad ideas. Kiss me."
The hesitation in Harry's movements was clear while he slowly leaned forward. My heart was beating faster with each second that went by, the pace he was choosing to move in was tortuously slow.
And soon, I felt his lips on mine. My heart stopped beating all of a sudden as I felt his hand sneaking around my waist. The joint was still on his hand, but he managed to somehow cup my cheek, being careful enough not to burn me.
I tangled my fingers on his curls and started to sway our mouths. I couldn't ignore the fluttering in my stomach, it felt as though there was a whole-ass flock of birds in there.
But the other unavoidable thing I couldn't look away from was the feeling of guilt that was pounding against my chest. I was way too high to think correctly, but I was a hundred percent sure this wasn't right.
So I pulled away.
"No, stop," I murmured, biting my lip as I refused to look him in the eye.
"What's wrong?" He frowned, his grip on my waist loosening out of confusion.
"This isn't right." I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, "I'm so sorry, I didn't-"
"Hey, Nat," Harry smoothed out, his voice sounding ten times softer than usual. "There's no need to apologise."
"I know, it's just..." I started chewing on my lips. "I keep fucking up things."
I still refused to look at his face. I didn't even know what I was feeling, but I didn't like it. Maybe the sudden mood swing was my period speaking, but I doubted so.
"What are you talking about? You didn't fuck up anything, stop punishing yourself," Harry said, stroking my thigh.
"I do, all the time." I chuckled, but I knew the laugh didn't reach my eyes. "I'm going to be the death of you, Harry. You're too pure to be with a monster like me, I don't deserve someone who deserves better."
"Natalie, you-"
"Stop." I interrupted him. "Monsters weren't designed to love and you know that."
I was never one to open up about my feelings. Ever. When I started dating Zayn, it took me a whole year to bring myself to actually think of us as a couple. I was scared I'd ruin him like I'd ruin Harry.
But Zayn soon proved he was just the same as me, only a tiny bit better. So I gave in.
But Harry wasn't the same, he was an FBI agent and he was the sweetest person I had ever met. He was pure and genuine, and... well, not a monster.
It was hard, everything was hard. I missed Zayn so fucking much, but I couldn't quite discern what was going on with Harry.
Maybe it was a little crush? Maybe I kinda liked him and he kinda liked me back? Or maybe it was just sexual attraction? Or what if it was just sexual tension? We were completely overreacting, I was certain of that.
But the crush option... maybe it was true. Maybe I did have a crush, like a high-school crush. On Harry. Maybe I liked him.
What if I did? Was it possible to like someone without knowing them completely? Could he like me, being the monster I was? Fuck, I was so scared he'd leave if he got to know me better.
What did that mean?
Maybe I liked him.
"You're not a monster." He said, rubbing his thumb on my knee.
I knew he probably didn't mean it, which was why I didn't answer. I could still feel him burning his eyes on my side profile, but I really didn't care.
My eyelids were starting to feel heavy, and I knew this was a consequence of all the drug I had inherited. I felt sleepy, but I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to stay with Harry.
Because maybe I liked him, and I was still trying to process over the fact that maybe this was really happening. It wasn't a big deal, but I didn't know how 'liking someone' worked, which was why I didn't know how to react to it.
But maybe I liked him, and I was glad I had finally brought myself to admit it.
"Maybe I like you," I whispered, more to myself.