"Crash, crash, burn let it all burn. This hurricane's chasing us all underground . . ."
I look at the front door, freezing when I see my father standing in the doorway. His expression is stern, jaw set tight as he looks between Harry and I, taking in our soaked appearances. I open my mouth to say something, only to clamp it shut when he starts off in the direction of Harry. My eyes widen in horror.
"Dad—"
"What are you doing in my house?" he bellows, coming to a stop in front of Harry. They stand face to face, eyes locked, each of them waiting for the other to do something. Harry looks indifferent as he stands there, refusing to tear his eyes away from my father as he practically fumes in front of him. I would be terrified to be in Harry's position, not calm and collected like he is right now.
"I don't care if there's a damn hurricane outside... there's a place for vermin like you and it's out on the streets, not in my home," my father seethes.
My eyes squeeze shut as my hands ball into fists at my sides. "Stop!" My feet carry me over to them and I stand in between their bodies, catching my father's attention. "It's not Harry's fault. I was stupid, okay? I went outside in the freezing rain and had an asthma attack. And to be quite honest, I would probably still be out there if Harry hadn't been there. He was just trying to help me."
"I won't tolerate criminals in my house, Lyza—"
"Ugh, I'm so sick of hearing you say that! He's a human being just like everyone else. None of us are perfect; we've all made mistakes yet you can't seem to let go of his. He's done terrible things but that doesn't mean that he's a bad person. I'm not going to stand here and watch you treat him like shit just because you're too stubborn to look at him and see who he is rather than what he's done."
My father stills, and the reality of what I did sinks in. I feel Harry's hand tug on my shirt from behind and he whispers quietly, telling me to stop.
"You're choosing that monster over me?" he asks incredulously. I roll my eyes, knowing that everything I just said had completely gone over his head.
"I think it's the other way around," I say, shifting my weight on my feet as I wait for his response.
He stares at me for a few long moments, and then nods passively. "If that's the way you feel, then I guess it won't bother you if I leave." And with that he turns, walking back out the door, slamming it shut behind him. The force of the action rattles the walls of the house and I flinch.
I suppress a groan of frustration as I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the ends. Slowly, I turn to face Harry.
"I'm so sorry," I apologize, shaking my head. "I don't know what's wrong with him."
"You didn't have to step in," Harry cuts. "I could've handled it on my own."
"You were just standing there and taking it. I had to do something," I say with a frown. He stares at me for a few moments before shaking his head. Dark, wet ringlets fall down in his eyes before he runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back.
My eyes fall down to his wet frame and the clothes that cling to his skin. Goosebumps cover his arms where the cold air nips at his exposed flesh, and he shakes slightly. "Those clothes don't look very comfortable, do you want something to change into? I'm sure my dad has something you can wear."
He looks up at me, a smile playing on his lips. "I don't think he would like that, I probably shouldn't push him anymore than I already have."
"You're gonna get sick walking around in those clothes," I scold, my tone taking on that of a mother. "At least let me dry them for you."
He nods. I watch silently as his hands go to the back of his neck, gripping the top of his black t-shirt before swiftly tugging it over his head. I fight to keep my eyes on his face as he hands me the piece of clothing before bringing his hands to his belt. I nervously gnaw on my bottom lip as his nimble fingers fumble with the buckle before unzipping his pants.
He bends over to pull the tight material down his legs, and my eyes fall on his torso. He has a defined set of toned abs, that much I can tell as they ripple beneath his skin with his movements. Water rolls effortlessly down his tanned skin, disappearing into the hem of his boxers. I force myself to tear my eyes away when Harry straightens, handing me the damp, black skinny jeans that once clung to his tall legs.
My eyes widen when he looks down and hooks his fingers in the band of his boxers, preparing to tug them down his legs. "Harry! Oh my god—"
He starts laughing, releasing the band from his fingers. Dimples indent themselves on his cheeks, giving him a youthful appearance. The sight makes my heart turn to putty in my chest. "Calm down, I'm just screwing with you," he chuckles.
My hands grip the end of his t-shirt and I playfully slap him on the chest with it. "That's not funny!"
"That's a shame, because I'd much rather go naked."
My breath hitches in my throat at his words and he smiles, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. I mentally curse myself for always being so awkward and nervous around him, although something tells me that he enjoys watching me squirm beneath his gaze.
"I'm gonna go put these in the dryer," I say, holding up his clothes. He nods and I start to turn around but I stop and look back at him. "There are towels in the bathroom if you need one."
He nods again and we go our separate ways. I step into the laundry room and flick on the light, illuminating the small space. I go over to the dryer and open the lid, tossing in Harry's t-shirt and jeans. My hands routinely twist the dials until they're on the appropriate setting. Once everything is in order I shut the lid and press start, walking away as the sound of clothes churning emits from the machine.
When I re-enter the living room Harry is sitting on the couch, flipping through TV channels. A blanket covers his bare legs and I pray that he hadn't decided to remove his boxers in my short absence.
I feel awkward as I walk over to him, and the fact that he looks up as I approach only makes it worse. He sends me a small smile and I return it before ungracefully plopping down onto the couch a good two feet away from him.
Silence fills the room as he continues to flip through the channels on the TV, while I sit there twiddling my thumbs. Taking advantage of his distracted state, I turn my head and scan my eyes over him. His skin and hair are free of moisture, and it is then that I notice the towel lying on the armrest next to him.
"Is there a TV show that you like, because I'm not finding anything," he speaks up, staring straight ahead at the screen. When I don't answer he glances at me from the corner of his eye. A smirk stretches across his lips as he realizes that I had been staring at him. "Or am I entertaining enough for you?"
My cheeks flare. "Sorry."
"I'm just teasing," he tells me, turning his attention back towards the TV. "It's very amusing, actually."
"Do you use that mouth of yours for anything else other than making me uncomfortable to get a laugh?" I question incredulously.
His lips tug up at the corners, forming a crooked smile. "Oh, you would be surprised. There are far more pleasurable things I can do with it."
My face shrivels in disgust as his words sink in. "Everything that comes out of your mouth is utterly vulgar, you know that?"
"You should see what comes in it." He wiggles his eyebrows, earning a scoff of disapproval from me.
I groan loudly, and he laughs. I shake my head at the thoughts running through my mind and lower myself on the couch so that I'm lying down. My head rests on a pillow and I curl myself into a ball, tucking my legs beneath me.
Silence fills the room, the sound of thunder outside being the only thing heard. The rumbles shake the walls and I tense, gripping the fabric of the couch in my small hands.
I've never been one to cope well with storms. When I was little, I would often sneak into my parents' room and crawl in bed with them. I know that this may sound silly coming from an eighteen year old, but the feeling of others being close to me in a time such as these gave me comfort. I knew that no matter what happened, I wouldn't have to face it alone.
"Can you put the news on, please?" I ask.
Harry doesn't give a verbal response, he just flips through the channels until he finds what I had requested.
"Hurricane Ike surges on, growing more and more powerful as it picks up speed. It's predicted to be a category four hurricane that is capable of achieving winds up to a hundred forty-five miles per hour. We highly suggest that everyone stay inside and away from windows and glass doors while this plays out. Stay tuned for more information on this natural disaster as the day goes on. I'm Bruce Winchell, and this is Channel Eleven News. Have a safe night."
And with that, the program cuts to a commercial. Lightning flashes outside, illuminating the windows in the living room for a split second before it's replaced with thunder. This time it's louder than before, sending vibrations through my chest and the walls of the house.
My breathing turns short and ragged as I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself. I feel the couch dip beside my legs and I look up to see Harry hovering above me.
"Hey, it's gonna be alright," he says quietly, scooting closer. His face is filled with concern as he looks down at me. "Calm down, we don't want you having another asthma attack now, do we?" He smiles warmly, trying to lift the atmosphere.
"I'm scared, Harry." My voice shakes as another crack of thunder hits the earth. "My dad isn't here, I don't know what to do."
"You have me, and I'm going to do everything humanly possible to make sure that you're okay, but I need you to do something in return." He pauses, searching my face. "Lay back down and take deep breaths; try to control your breathing. Can you do that for me?"
I nod slightly and return to my previous position, letting out a shaky breath.
"I'll go get you some water," he says, rising from the couch. I watch him until he disappears around the corner and into the kitchen. A minute or so passes and suddenly, the lights in the room begin to flicker before going out altogether. The image on the TV screen fizzles out and lightning strikes outside, illuminating the now dark room. The power had gone out.
Panic swells within me. "Harry? Where are you?" I call, shooting up into a sitting position. My eyes scan the room but it's no use, everything is pitch black. I hear shuffling and then a loud thud, nearly causing my heart to stop beating in my chest.
"Fuck," Harry curses from somewhere off to my right.
"Harry?"
"Give me a second," he says, his voice sounding much closer than before. I hear the wooden floor creak beneath his feet as he tries to navigate his way back to the couch in the dark, bumping into things in the process, muttering a string of cuss words under his breath.
His breathing can be heard as he comes closer, so I reach out and my hand comes in contact with soft, smooth skin. The couch dips beside me as he sits down and a hand finds mine in the dark, tugging gently to encourage me to come closer. I do so and practically scramble into Harry's lap, burying my face into the crook of his neck. The smooth expanse of his chest rises and falls beneath me as he sighs deeply.
I curl up against him, enveloping myself in the warmth radiating off of his half-naked body. He's only wearing boxers but at the moment I couldn't care less, because I'm terrified out of my mind.
"You're scared of the dark," he comments quietly, more as a statement rather than a question. I shake my head before realizing that he can't see me.
"I'm not scared of the dark, I'm scared of what's in it," I mumble against his skin.
He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. "Just think of it as closing your eyes and going to sleep," he says, running his free hand over my back soothingly. "You're lying in bed, you're safe. Nothing can get you."
"That doesn't make me feel better, Harry. I can't think that way, not now."
"Hmm," he muses. Large hands grip my waist, sliding me off of him. My eyebrows furrow in confusion until he adjusts me so that I'm laying down in the middle of the couch. I feel the cushions dip as he mirrors my position so that I'm between him and the back of the couch.
My body is pulled flush against his chest. Warm breath hits my hair as he breathes above me. "Now you're caged in, you aren't going anywhere."
Wind howls outside and a particularly loud snap of thunder sounds, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. Harry chuckles against my hair and kisses the top of my head, sending my heart into a frenzy. My head whirls with fear and shock, fear of the storm and shock of where this situation with Harry has gone. Never in a million years would I have pegged him as someone capable of comfort.
"Country," he mumbles, vibrations rattling through his chest. I close my eyes at the feeling and sound of his voice, letting out a hum in response.
"Go to sleep."
"But I'm not tired," I lie.
"It's almost midnight, you need to rest."
"What about you?" I counter. I wish I could see his face at this moment, I bet he looked even more beautiful up close. And we were; our faces a mere few inches apart.
"Shhh, go to sleep," he hushes, shifting slightly. I roll my eyes and give in, snuggling further into him, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
My eyelids feel heavy as I yawn, stretching slightly. I fight to keep my eyes open for as long as I can before succumbing to the darkness threatening to close in on me. The last thing I register before falling asleep is the feeling of cold lips pressing to my forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away.
". . . Tell me would you kill to save your life? Tell me would you kill to prove you're right?"