important n. sorry for the wait. so much studying for so many final exams. i finally have time today. anyways, i've got an announcement. instead of making this story 80 chapters (which is highly tedious because the plot will only drag on if i do so) i'm going to make it 68 parts in total. meaning, there are 11 chapters left. it fits better to do so. thank you for reading!
i really liked writing this chapter. hope ya'll like it.
Our next stop was dead in the center of a busy, crowded street in Bridgetown. It was small, and yet a perfectly blended place to stay. It is nothing out of the ordinary, so this is a precise place to stay. We walk up narrow stairs with our bags, the heat already becoming intense. Harry leads the way, while I examine our surroundings.
I have yet to talk to him. Since I made that statement, that I will not forgive him yet nor will I speak with him, he has respected my wishes. I consistently forgive him for things, and though I hate myself for it, it simply occurs. This time, in a quite childishly manner, I force myself to let go of my habits and hold a strong hold to a goal.
He opens a door, revealing a tiny room with two doors in total. The furnished area has floral prints everywhere, and a turned off fan perched between the wall and a window. I inhale and immediately catch the scent of cigarettes and food. Harry opens the windows, spreading the curtains and letting the sunlight beams strike through.
I place my bag on the floral printed couch, stretching my arms and looking through the rest of this highly compacted place. Picture frames of landscapes and cities, and even a cat. There are white metal embellished chairs and a tiny table in the kitchen, a rusted stove, and a fridge that when I open, has no food.
Shutting it closed, I turn around to face Harry, who is lining up his guns across a blue coffee table. I raise my eyebrows. His most obsessive habit is probably lining up those guns every time. It's like he doesn't want to miscount regardless of many times he does count.
Rather not ask why, however. I look further through, finding a tub with running water. I sigh in relief to myself, grabbing my bag back in the living room, and proceeding to take a bath. I fill the tub about half way and just plop myself in the cold water. I sit there, bored and yet content.
I start to play around with objects that surround me. I find a worn out book that later on, I begin to read. It is a non-fictional book about wives who've murdered their husbands. With interest, I continue to read from it, up until my skin cannot absorb anymore water, and I'm forced to drain the tub.
Drying off, I nakedly search for a towel that I cannot find. Figures. I sigh, deciding to get back into the tub, this time sitting sideways as my legs hang from the side. I get comfortable, holding the novel up to my face and continuing to read from it.
About half an hour later, when the tub is drying and inevitably, so have I, I hear the door open. Harry stands there, clearly watching me. I don't peak up at him, too irritated with him to give him even a fraction of my attention. However, I do know he's got that little smirk on his face. That devious smirk I have only recently got to see.
"You look so good there, baby," is what he murmurs lowly, huskily. That stupid tone that makes every bone in my body ache. This time though, I put on a very steady, concrete wall between me, him, and my lust for him.
I find that we do this a lot. Sexual innuendos and plain, good ol' sex. We tease the hell out of one another regardless of what situation we're in, and it becomes an issue of distraction. I regret promising him angry sex. At the time, I just really wanted to experience it say...angrily, obviously, but now I'm just full blown pissed.
My eyes remain on the book. Neutral and unfazed. It's as if he wasn't even there. He amusingly grins to himself before sighing, sitting on a the toilet seat. The door he left open allows air to flow, hitting my naked body. It makes my most sensitive parts sensitive and it is noticeable.
"'S fine, love. I'm fine with just watching you," he shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. He's enjoying this a little too much.
Instigator, that man is. Always trying to get me to cave by beginning things. He is very aware that he promised to let me choose when to forgive him, but the only reason he wants to pester me is so I can open my mouth and remind him of so. However, that's when I cave.
I flip the page of the book loudly, making it clear I'm angry.
Harry snickers.
I have the urge to clench my jaw. Through our childish games, I find the easiest ways to get pissed off at him even further.
He smiles widely, eyes trailing my body and every inch of skin.
I grip my book tighter.
When he stands, I barely tense. It's been ten minutes of silence when he walks towards me, and just as he's about to touch me, my foot shoots up and aggressively, I place it on his stomach. He grunts lightly, not expecting that. My foot holds him there.
I continue to read quite casually, and he stands there in outrage. "Oh, princess, c'mon," he chuckles.
Never looking up at him, I angrily flip the next page of my book. I know he can see everything. From breasts, stomach, thighs, and clearly in between them. Though, I pay this no mind. He isn't going to get it so easily. Not when he's constantly lied to me, expecting to get forgiveness. He won't get forgiveness like this.
Even with my foot on his stomach, he leans forward, managing to grab onto the edges of the tub. My foot slides further, now to his chest to keep him furthest away. He glances between my legs, licking his lips. If I wasn't upset with him, I'd blush and possibly melt into the tub. Too bad I am more than willing to ignore him until he gets it.
"You know...I haven't really gotten to —" he grabs my ankle, pulling it towards him. I nearly gasp when my body moves forward, and I'm forced to use my hands against the tub for leverage. My eyebrows furrow in anger as Harry kisses my thighs. "— properly...kiss all of you. Get to taste all of you."
My foot rapidly pushes at his chest, and when he lets go, with that little smirk on his face, I get up from the tub and walk out bare naked and all. Careless, I grab my bag and rummage through it. I hear movement behind me, though I'm surprised when one of his hands holds his black button up in front of me.
I stare at it, not wanting to take it and put it on. Ignoring it, I go for underwear, though he doesn't let me. He turns me around with a gentle pull on my hand, and he's lost that smirk. I look up at him, glaring holes into his face. He places it over my shoulders, before dressing me himself. I think about moving away from him, but he's so into putting it up on me. He dips his head down, pecking the area right above one of my breasts, just before buttoning the last one.
"Please stay away from the guns on the table. I don't want you to assassinate me while I wash myself," he whispers lowly.
I sigh heavily, finally firmly snapping, "It's not a joke. You think it's a joke every time I'm upset with you. You think I'm going to forgive you, and you use sex to get it. I'm so furious with you. I constantly forgive you over and over again, but if this is how you think you'll always earn it, then I don't want to."
He stares straight into my eyes, gazing over my face with no words.
I suddenly pull on one of his necklaces, bringing his face closer to mine. "You do a lot for me. I get it. But, this you're mine thing and I'm yours thing comes with work. You have to work for me, Styles. Not just physically, but you have to be loyal to me in every aspect of it. You have to treat me like I'm the strongest person you know. See, you keep lying to me all the damn time, and it just makes things more complicated. You have to work on your communicating skills. You don't get to drag me around with you, expecting I won't mind."
Without hesitation, I let go of his necklace and leave the bathroom. I glance behind me, and he remains standing there in silence. He reaches behind him, scratching his head and sighing heavily. Then, he begins to undress, unbuckling his pants.
Maybe twenty minutes later, I sit on the couch continuing to read the book about marriages gone terribly wrong. So far, it's amusing. All non-fictional stories about women who have murdered their husbands for either insane reasons or the husband has cheated.
Harry walks out into the living room in nothing. Naked and in all of his glory. I keep focus on the book, though. He unzips his bag and pulls out a pair of boxers, pulling them up effortlessly. Then, he takes a seat next to me. I react with nothing, only flipping the next page of the book.
"Cata," he calls, sighing heavily. He grabs the book and places it onto the coffee table. I look to him as he says, "I know I lied. Again. After I promised you that I wouldn't do it again. After we both agreed that we're together, and that means no lies. I just...I'm wired to think like that. To think to protect you, and I fucked up yet again. I don't mean to be controlling or...too possessive. It's just...instinct. Second nature. I'm working on it, I really am."
I stare at him for a long moment, thinking over and over again his words. He reaches up and grabs my chin, bringing our faces closer. Harry deeply murmurs, "I'll work for you, baby. Don't doubt that."
He goes for a kiss, but I press my hand against his chest. We look at one another, and I whisper, "How do I know you're serious this time?"
"Because if I really didn't care, I wouldn't put so much effort into trying to get your forgiveness. I love you, dollface," he reminds me, never taking his eyes off of me.
I force in a laugh somewhere, soft and not fully amused. "Dollface," I repeat, smiling faintly. He furrows his eyebrows, and I add, "You haven't called me that in a while."
He nods slightly. "Guess things changed," he strokes my cheek with his thumb.
I blow air from my mouth, nudging my nose against his. "I love you, bastard. Lie to me again, and I swear I will shoot your foot, and —"
Harry chuckles, interrupting me with a soft peck on the lips. "Picking up on the violence, finally."
"I have always been violent. You're just the only person who can bring it out of me," I remark haughtily.
He hisses. "Ouch, princess."
I hum, trying not to smile. "Love you," I peck his lips again, repeatedly. He rests a hand on my thigh, squeezing lightly. Against his mouth, I murmur, "About that sex..."
n. i promise you guys i'll be updating more often unless im on vacation *which i will be with a friend soon*, but anyways, thanks for reading!