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Chapter 31- Shampoo
Harry's P.O.V.
I can't help but smile as I tangle my fingers through her small hands. Her head rests on my chest, her eyes closed and heart shaped lips barely parted as she sleeps peacefully.
We're laying on her living room floor, my back against the couch and my legs spread out in front of me.
Julia sits between my legs, her back against my chest, her head resting on the front of my shoulder.
Something in my stomach flutters delicately when she stirs, barely turning her head to bury her face in the crook of my neck. This is the first time in an eternity she's slept normally.
Ever since the day I'd found her asleep outside the school one month ago, she hasn't been the same.
Nowadays I often come to school to see her dozing off in her chair, sleepless and tear filled nights etched into the puffy rings under her eyes.
Every once in a while I receive another late night call for comfort, once in a blue moon, a quivering plea to come over. She does it less often now because she knows it means I have to ask Aunt Jane if I can use the car.
But on those rare occasions, I hardly sleep. I spend much of the night watching her tremble in my arms from the nightmares she refuses to confide in me about. As she lays twitching and whimpering in my arms, I try my best to soothe her. I hum to her, I sway with her in my arms, I try to whisper gentle "I love you"s, but all in vain.
The awful nightmares still continue to plague her mind.
So finally seeing her laying in arms with the long awaited bliss of her sleeping smile, I'm more relieved than she will be when she awakes.
The school year is a little over two months from being over, this semester far better than any others in the past now that she's here with me.
As I feel her eyelids flutter against my throat, I can't help but wonder what dreams dance behind her eyelids.
Does she dream the same things I do? Does she dream of a long and carefree life with the person she loves most? Does she dream of her knowledge this isn't just going to be another high school sweetheart story? Does she dream of waking up to the smile of the one who loves her more than anything or anyone else in the world?
Does she dream about me?
As I watch her, I can't help but think over all the daydreams I've experienced.
I can see them now, the sizzling of bacon as warm sunlight peeks through the curtains. Her thin arms winding around my waist as I feel her face nuzzle into my back.
The shared "I love you"s and kisses and embraces and laughs together.
I can't help but love the idea of her love.
"Mm..." I hear the soft hum drifting from her parted lips. The daydreams dance away from my mind as I come to look back at the beautiful girl in my arms. Her eyes are half open, a sleepy smile on her face.
"Hello, my love..." I murmur, warmth bubbling through me when her smile widens.
"Hi..." She sighs happily, her head resting in my neck.
"How long have I been asleep?" She mumbles, her tiny fists rubbing at her tired eyes, her nose crinkling up.
I barely shrug in reply, wrapping my arms around her waist to lift her a little. My hips ache slightly from being sprawled apart so far and I eagerly bring them back together, setting her back in my lap.
"I'm tired..." She barely murmurs, her legs curling to her chest as she turns to cuddle into me. As I rest my chin on her head, my gaze catches on the faint light of the clock.
"I've got to get home soon, darling..." I whisper, pressing my lips to her head.
"Please stay..." She immediately whimpers, her delicate hands clenching around my shirt.
It almost pains me to refuse her.
"It's getting late, it's almost midnight. Aunt Jane will want me home..." I try to reason, sliding one arm under her knees as I wrap the other around her back.
I struggle to bring my feet under me to gain balance, grunting as I get to my feet. She sighs quietly, her face nuzzling into my throat as I carry her to the stairs.
The height is slightly daunting but she seems to sense my hesitation, clinging to me tighter as I start carefully up the stairs. So when I finally reach the top, I walk into her room and lay her gently on her bed.
"No, don't leave me..." She whispers pleadingly, her knuckles white as she fists the material of my shirt desperately.
"I'm sorry, pips... I've really got to go..." I try to avoid her tired gaze, gently prying her fingers away from the dark material.
Both of my hands easily cup around hers and now she doesn't bother to fight back. I bring our hands to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss onto her knuckles as a silent plea that she'll be able to sleep as blissfully as she did before.
"G'night, Harry..." Her tone is defeated with a slight slur that taints her whisper as she struggles to keep her eyes open. And finally I leave one soft kiss on her forehead.
"Goodnight, Julia..."
∘∞∘∘∞∘∘∞∘∘∞∘
Julia's P.O.V.
My fingers comb through his soft curls as I struggle to think of another question to ask him. He gazes up at me from my lap with the tiniest of smiles.
"Time's up! My turn to ask!" He boasts, a grin spreading across his lips.
"That was not thirty seconds!" I protest, my jaw dropping agape. Harry's mocking smirk crosses his face again, murmuring teasingly "You're right, it was thirty minutes."
I fight back the laughter, smacking his chest lightly. "You are such a jerk!"
I can't help but join in on the booming laughter he gives at my complaint.
"Just let me ask the question. It's a good one." He begs, his brows furrowing upwards as he juts his full bottom lip out. I try to keep my face unwavering when his hands move from his chest to clasp together pleadingly. I sigh in defeat.
"Fine, ask away."
He grins for a quick moment, blurting out without hesitation. "If you could talk to one dead person from the past, who would it be?"
I'm slightly taken aback. He's still got that casual, curious grin as his green eyes follow mine. But while they look thoroughly happy, I can't help but feel there's a small glimmer of despair in there. That I can find it if I look carefully.
As I debate my answer, the tip of his tongue catches between his bottom lip and his top teeth as he waits patiently.
"You." I finally decide.
He's the one with shock written all over his face now.
"What?" He finally asks, brows furrowing as he tries to comprehend my answer.
"I would pick you." I confirm.
"Don't get me wrong, I love you with seriously all of my heart. But somehow I know that the little five year old Harold in you is dead, possibly gone forever, and I wish I could talk to him..." I explain, inwardly cringing.
He continues to stare at me silently in thought. But his gaze is too prodding, seeming to dig into my soul to understand my words. Then as the suffocating silence drags on, he finally smiles.
"He's here... You've met him a few times, I think... And don't worry, he's not dead." He tacks on a playful smile with the last comment, but his eyes are telling me he's not joking.
I can't help but smile in response, bending down to press my lips to his forehead. His eyes close at the touch, the corner of his lips curling upwards happily.
But I still when a sweet smell drifts towards me. I can't put my finger on it.
"Harry?" I ask, bending a little lower to try and decipher the smell.
"Mhm?" He hums, still content with his eyes closed.
"What is that smell?" I ask, pulling back to look at him. His bright eyes opening as they eye me cautiously.
"You've been in my aunt's car, you know how it smells."
I shake my head in disagreement.
"But that smells like... lavender and vanilla. This is different. Some kind of fruit or something?"
He shakes his head, smile long gone. "I dunno, so it's your turn. Ask me a question." He changes the subject.
An awkward silence stretches between us for a moment, both of us daring the other to speak. So finally I grin, looking down at him.
"What shampoo do you use?"
His face flushes red.
Gotcha.
An embarrassed laugh bursts forth through his lips, his hands flying to cover his face. "Head and shoulders." He mumbles.
"Bull." I immediately call, the wicked grin taking my whole face.
He opens his eyes, looking up at me in mortification. "Promise me that you won't laugh." He mumbles timidly.
I bite my lip, struggling to silence the laughs that were already coming.
"I promise." I can barely say through a stifled laugh. His brows furrow like a pouty child.
"You're gonna laugh." He guesses.
"No I'm not!" I giggle, my words obviously no reassurance to him.
"I won't tell you if you're gonna laugh." He threatens, eyes narrowing up at me. I barely nod, my cheeks burning as the grin struggles to widen.
"Just tell me." I choke out, watching him. His lips press in a thin line, watching me cautiously.
"... I used pomegranate and honey scented one... The kind for shine and volume..." He admits tentatively, cheeks tinting as pink as the bottle that comes to mind.
And I know I promised.
I know I told him I wouldn't.
But I burst into a hysterical fit of laughter.
Immediately the pink spreads across his whole face. "You promised me you wouldn't laugh!" He howls in embarrassment, his legs curling to his chest as he lays there in a curled ball of shame and feminine hair.
"Oh, look! I'm the big bad Harry Styles! But at least I can have beautiful luscious hair that smells like pomegranate and honey!" I say through giggles, my stomach aching from the laughter as I roll onto my back, clutching my sides.
"Shut up!" He hollers, scrambling to lay on top of me, clapping his hand over my mouth.
"Is that glitter?!" I question into his hand, widening my eyes at his curls that hang over his forehead.
"What?!"
His voice shoots up two octaves as his hands fly to knot into his hair for the glitter that isn't really there. So of course this sends me into more uproarious laughter.
I can feel hot tears running down my cheeks as he fumbles around desperately to tug his grey beanie back over his curls, his face redder than a tomato.
And as he fights his way to his long and clumsy legs, dashing to my bathroom mirror to spot the imaginary flecks, I'm slightly concerned I'll pass out from laughter. But somehow it gets even better.
He looks back over at me with the most irritated face when he realizes there isn't any glitter in his hair. By now, it isn't even laughing. Choked wheezes are barely dragging their way up my throat as I clutch my stomach tiredly.
"You lying little Delilah..." He finally chuckles, shaking his head as he walks back over.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself." I gasp out, relief flooding through me when the laughter finally dies down.
"Pomegranate and honey..." I finally sigh, with a smile on my face.
"You are such an idiot..." I laugh quietly, looking over to the flustered boy. But the next thing he says for some unknown reason, sends me into another fit of painful laughter.
"A fabulous idiot."