By the time we finished playing card games, it was around one thirty in the morning. I was so exhausted all I wanted to do was close my eyes and never wake up just so that I could get some proper sleep. As I close the door to my room and turn the light on, Styles was sitting on the chair, his legs crossed on top of the desk while he played with the cross pendent on his necklace, his gaze towards me as soon as my eyes landed on him.
I had been completely startled by his uninvited presence for the second time today. "You need to stop doing that." I grunt, trudging over to the bed while he watches my every move.
"I thought I told you to stay away from him." He says lowly, his voice filled with menace and rage.
"And I thought I told you not to tell me what to do." I retort, pulling my socks off and sitting criss cross on the bed, facing him on the chair, challenging him.
"I also told you to come to my room." He says, looking at his knuckles. "Why didn't you listen to that either?"
"You might be used to people obeying your every whim but not me. I told you that you can't boss me around." I say. Maybe it was because it was almost 2 in the morning, but I didn't feel the need to bite my tongue this time around. "Why did you want me to come to your room anyway?" I ask.
He doesn't answer but stands up from the chair, his boots making noise with every step he took towards the bed making me back up to the headboard. He then sits in front of me, his right leg on the bed and the other on the floor.
"Was he your first kiss?" He asks after a while of just staring at me, I raise a brow. Why did he keep bringing Zayn up in everything? I know he was meant to be protecting me, so he says, but him acting like my father, trying to prevent me to stop seeing Zayn was beginning to get on my last nerve.
"Why do you care?"
"Was he?" He asks, staring into my eyes. I didn't say anything and that seems to answer his question, he hums.
"Leave me alone." I groan, getting under the blankets. He presses his hand down on the blanket and I can't bring it over myself anymore.
"Is that what you want?" His eyes were dark, pupils were dilated and I could smell alcohol on his breath. Was this even the same person that took me a month ago? The same person that would yell at me whenever he got the chance? The same person who ignores me for hours? And now he's being so—I don't even know what he's doing.
Trying to seduce me? Trying to kiss me? It sure looks like it.
"What is with you?" I finally ask making him raise a brow. "You were so cold to me before coming here and now you're like this?" I say, gesturing to how close he was to me. "Are you jealous of Zayn and I?" I say without thinking making him back up with a dry and condescending chuckle. "Or are you drunk?"
"Please," he scoffs. "You're not my type for you to assume I'm jealous."
I shrug, hiding my embarrassment. "Well it sure seems that way. To answer your question, yes Zayn is my first." I say and he looks unamused. "If you keep making this your concern then maybe I might give him my virginity too. And then I'd tell you all about it since you want to make it your business." I blurt out, the confidence catching me off guard.
"He got himself a little virgin, that should be fun for him." Styles mocks and I scoff at him.
"Look, I don't even know why you bother. If you're just trying to get a rise out of me, congratulations, you succeed at that every single time." I say, snatching the blanket from him and laying down.
"Look, you're right." He sighs. "I'm meant to be taking care of you, last I want is for you to go back home traumatized. And I guess I am a bit drunk." Styles runs a hand through his curls. "And you were right. The way things are looking it's best that we get along."
"Why would you care?" I ask, making him look down and pull on a loose string on the blanket. I couldn't help but notice that since we arrived, he's never actually interacted with anyone. He's always been kind of isolated, maybe he's jealous of that bond I have with them in such a short span of time. Or maybe he feels lonely.
I know exactly how that feels.
He shrugs. "I don't." I roll my eyes at him. "Look, babysitting wasn't exactly what I planned to do, but I might as well do it right." He says.
I was taken by surprise, he wasn't glaring nor were his eyebrows furrowed, as much as they usually were anyway. "Well, for starters," I begin. "You should try to be nice."
He looks at me. "I said I wanted to be pleasant to you, not that I wanted to be your friend."
"That is not being nice." I say and he sighs. "Just... try. For starters, you can tell me why I can't call you by your name, cause to me it isn't fair that I know everyone else's but yours is forbidden to even think about."
Styles clenches his jaw as he thinks, soon he looks back at me. "Styles is my last name."
Harry Styles?
"Why can't I refer to you by your name?"
He seems silent, almost hesitant to speak but he ends up doing so anyway. "I just don't like it."
"Well, I like Harry better than Styles. It actually sounds real." I say. "So can I call you Harry now then?"
He sighs. "I guess that's fine." After this, he goes silent again. It seemed as though the name Harry was almost sort of like a trigger to something for him. He seemed troubled in a way.
"What is it?" I ask, watching how he kept his gaze to his knuckles. "You can tell me anything if you'd like, I mean it isn't like I'm going anywhere." I joke. "I'm here for you, Harry." His once soft stare turned harsh, it was as if something snapped in him, something very obviously triggered him when I said his name.
"Let's get one thing fucking clear, I don't need anyone to be there for me, especially when you feel like you have to be. I've got my shit together. Just forget it." He grits, storming towards the bedroom door, he slams it and locks me inside.
What the hell was that all about? Maybe I should stop thinking he's actually a decent person every time he doesn't yell at me, because always does right after.
His mood swings give me literal whiplash.
I ignore whatever it was that just happened and groan, falling back onto the bed. So does that mean I can't call him by his name? Why is he so opposed to people getting close to him?
It bothers me that he is so closed off. He is so obsessed with keeping a low profile that he's overprotective of himself, trying not to show so much emotion and then punishing himself for showing any at all. And maybe that's why he switches up so fast, because he doesn't let himself feel.
My door soon opens again, ridding me of my thoughts on Harry. It was Zayn, the laptop in his hand and a bright smile on his lips. I couldn't help but remember what I told Harry, blushing at how I just let that slip out of my mouth.
Zayn held a beauty that I had never seen on anyone before but then again, so did Harry.
But Zayn was nicer to me.
But Styles intrigued me in a way that I didn't know wether it was good or bad. And that made me want whatever it was that I was feeling even more. Maybe it was excitement for the lack there of in my entire life, but something in me wanted to see how far it would go.
"You okay?" Zayn asks, laying down on the bed beside me, opening his laptop. I couldn't help but stare at him. He was breathtaking and I wanted nothing more but to kiss him once again.
"I'm great." I say, I was now since he was here.
He looks at me and the way I kept staring at him before chuckling. "You know, you have this twinkle in your eye and I don't know exactly what it means but I like the way it's making me feel."
I decide to fuck it all and scoot towards him and without any hesitation, I press my lips to his.