king
warning at the start: mention of sickness (throwing up)
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HANA
I do manage to convince Harry to attend dinner, although he remains pretty much silent for the whole time. Ella and Nadia notice but decidedly don't mention it. He squeezes my hand every time he wants to add something to the conversation.
He only gets through one half of his burrito until he's rushing to the nearest bathroom to throw up, my feet carrying me to him as fast as they can and my hand resting on his back to rub soothing circles as he retches over the toilet, being sick a few times before he sits back and refuses the water I offer him.
"Harry, you need to drink."
"I don't want it. I just want to stop feeling so sick."
"Can I take you to the nurse?" I suggest, wondering if this cause of his sickness was his dad or a stomach bug he had caught.
"No, she'll see the bruises, my dad will find out if I tell her the truth," he denies, his eyes flashing in panic at the thought.
"Okay, we won't, you don't have to." I comfort him, not wanting to push it too far and have him flip, "I just want you to feel better."
"Cherry?"
"Yeah?"
"You mean everything to me. Thank you so much for saving me," he speaks seriously and slowly, the meaning of his statement conveyed clearly.
I don't know exactly how to respond so I just allow his eyes to flutter closed, "let's go back to your cabin, yeah? We can watch a movie."
"Hold on," I'm halfway through pulling him up when he suddenly gags and falls back down, throwing up again. So, I repeat the process. Fortunately, Harry accepts the water this time and then we finally make it to his cabin and he seems to feel a little better after being sick.
He lays on his bed, my head on his lower stomach, his hands playing with my hair and drawing lines on my face which make me feel dizzy.
"While you were passed out, Taylor told me you get high a lot."
"Yeah, he usually comes round on Sunday nights with a load of weed and we get stoned."
"I've not done that in ages."
"You can come if you want?" he offers, his hips wiggling absentmindedly underneath me to the rhythm of Arrow Through Me, one of my favourites from his extensive collection that I had exclaimed in joy when I came across it.
"I'd love to come," I tease, smiling up at him, "but really, yeah, I'll join you."
"Sounds good. He usually comes at nine-ish. We just forget about everything for a while."
"Fun," I turn on my side, admiring his firm chest and poking his stomach playfully, Harry squirming at the ticklish feeling, "I'm tired."
"Have a nap, Cherry."
"Hm, can I use you as a pillow? You're squishy," I mumble, moving my head to get comfy on his stomach.
"Squishy? I don't do physical activity every day and go to the gym all the time for squishy, Cherry. I'm ripped," he boasts, smiling confidently when I look at him, unimpressed.
I lift his t-shirt, poking at the admittedly tiny layer of fat covering his abs, "squishy." Harry just rolls his eyes, frowning as he inspects his stomach, "you're fit as fuck, Harry." His pout lifts into a smile at my truthful compliment.
"Really?"
"See, now you're just fishing for compliments," I tease, continuing to poke at his soft skin, avoiding the bruises.
"Well, are you gonna give me any?"
"No, dumb bitch."
"Aw. Go to sleep, idiot," I flick him in the forehead fondly and do just that, grumbling when I'm woken by Harry a while later, "Taylor's here."
"Tell him to fuck off."
"He's in the room," I stick my middle finger up behind me, Harry redirecting me so it's actually pointing to Taylor, "and he's got weed."
"Why didn't you start with that?" I ask, sitting straight up excitedly.
"Cherry, when was the last time you got high?"
"Four months ago, I can handle it, Harry," I scoff and roll my eyes at his assumption, taking the joint that Taylor had just lit and sucking in, feeling the familiar burn in my lungs before I blow it back out into Harry's face, smiling smugly as he watches me with pursed lips.
"Alright, Cherrypop, chill."
"Cherrypop? You two are disgusting," Taylor observes, actually looking between us fondly, clearly happy for Harry.
"Fuck off, you call your girl Princess Penny."
"Dude! Hold on, does she know?" he exclaims, irritated.
"She has a name, and yeah, I do. Just so you know, I usually bring Harry a snickers at eleven, maybe don't be so loud around that time. Caused some issues." Harry exhales a small chuckle at my joking comments, the air around us filling with the slightly piney scent of weed.
"This is good," he claims, taking another hit before passing it to Taylor, who does the same. We all sit comfortably on his bed, Harry sat straight with his back against his headboard, Taylor at the bottom and me facing both of them, cross-legged and quickly getting high. The boys aren't quite as fast as me due to their regularity to the experience and larger body mass. My brain just feels fuzzy right now, but I know if I keep going, soon I'll be really gone.
So, I keep going.
Harry and Taylor share knowing glances, Harry's voice humorous as he asks, "Cherry, have you ever done a shotgun kiss?"
"No," I answer quickly, currently in the rapid reactions stage that I usually go through before I crash.
He's moving towards me, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth, "do you want to?"
"Yeah," my eyes flit down to his lips.
"Guys, no," Taylor objects, only to be met with a middle finger from Harry, who inhales from the joint again and slowly tangles his tongue with mine, puffing the smoke into my mouth gradually, "ew." Harry's hand comes up to hold my neck, mine linking into his hair, "I'm going to the bathroom." Neither of us pays any attention to him, our embrace only becoming more heated. Harry fiddles with the hem of my shirt, only breaking us apart to rip it over my head and watching as I blow the smoke from my mouth gradually before reattaching his lips to mine and laying me down, pressing his hips into mine so I can feel how hard he is. "You better not still be making out!" Taylor warns as he marches out from the bathroom, groaning as he sees us doing exactly that.
Suddenly, my brain snaps from its trance, why I decided to make out with Harry when Taylor is here is unclear now. Harry flops down, burying his face in his duvet when I stand up, flipping impossibly quickly when he remembers I'm shirtless, only a bra covering my breasts. Taylor attempts to avert his eyes, Harry catching him looking open-mouthed for a second.
"Dude! Hana, put this on," he passes me my shirt, however, I just stand dumbly. Harry sighs and tugs it over my head himself before heading over to his treasured record player and starting a song. I hang my head back and whisper yes excitedly when I realise what he had chosen: I Call My Baby Pussycat blasts through the room, Harry dancing over to me. We tap our way around the room, Harry behind me and making stupid faces, as am I, Taylor silently watching us like we were insane. "Fuck, I'm so high," he laughs as he takes another hit, "Cherry!"
I don't know but I've been told, that a dog's a man's best friend.
Harry and I pointing our chins down and exaggerating our lips, speaking as deep as we can, Harry's eyes going wide, as does his grin.
I call my baby pussycat, I spell it p-u-s-s-y,
Said I call my baby pussycat, I spell it p-u-s-s-y.
Taylor's expression is unamused, Harry's happy and mine completely unbothered.
Woo, ha, hey, woo, ha, ha,
Woo, ha, hey, woo, ha, ha.
"Come on, Taylor, have some fun," Harry calls as we dance into the bathroom and out again, strumming the air as if we were playing a guitar and Harry rushing to change the song as it ends.
This boy has looks, smarts, kindness, a sense of humour and fucking godly music taste. How does that work out fairly?
Where are you going I don't mind,
I've killed my world and I've killed my time,
So where do I go, what do I see,
I see many people coming after me.
And we're dancing to Strangers, our movements slower than before and our singing floating into the air.
"Could you listen to some normal, new music? Not shit from the '60s," Taylor sighs, raising his volume over the music.
"This is from 1970, actually," I educate him, receiving a childish high-fiving from Harry.
Strangers on this road we are on,
We are not two, we are one,
Strangers on this road we are on,
We are not two, we are one.
Taylor stays for another half an hour before getting fed up of our shit and returning to his cabin. Harry and I continue to dance contentedly to Harry's music and smoke the joint Taylor had left behind until we were both positively stoned. Our feet began to tire halfway through America as we slow danced around the room, however Everybody Loves The Sunshine by Roy Ayers, one of my favourite singers, energised us all over again and we jump around eagerly whilst laughing loudly.
I toss myself onto Harry's bed, falling onto my back and giggling drunkenly as Harry follows, but misses, tumbling to the floor in a loud thud, "holy shit, are you okay?" I gasp through my laughter, Harry looking dazed as he lays on the cold wood floor.
"Am I in heaven?" he asks confusedly, looking up at my face as if I were God.
"Yes, baby, I think we are," I laugh, referring to how perfectly, heavenly happy I feel.
"Oh," Harry looks around blankly, "I expected there to be more clouds and shit. Does this mean God is real?" he inquires, appearing like he's seriously contemplating the meaning of life.
I deepen my voice, turning my face so he couldn't see me speak, "Harry," I boom, Harry's eyes flickering around and eyebrows furrowing.
"Woah, what the fuck? Did you hear that? Shit, I shouldn't swear in heaven, fuck."
"Hear what?" I question innocently, Harry glancing around the room slowly.
"Can you smell that?"
"Smell what?"
"Smell what? What are you saying?" he laughs deliriously, his back arching from the floor. "Shit, it's your birthday today," he adds, suddenly turning serious.
"No, Harry. It's Sunday and my birthday is on Wednesday."
"Wednesday. That's such a weird word. And it's spelt really different to how it's said. Like, you spell wed-nes-day but you say wens-day."
"Wednesday doesn't actually exist. Time is a social construct. We just have to trust that it is what time and day clocks say it is."
"Woah, trippy Cherry."
"Go to sleep."
"I'm already asleep," he whispers.
✩︎
It's difficult to wake up in the morning, Harry and I dragging each other out of bed and me basically falling asleep as I brushed my teeth until he tugged my pants down and eagerly ate me out, which soon woke me up.
He doesn't seem at all impressed when we turned up to dinner and the breakfast we had been served is a variety of fruit, sending me to buy him a snickers immediately.
"Today, we'll be playing a game of capture the flag. Get into groups of four, and one counsellor," Taylor and Nadia seem to know already that Harry and I would be staying together so they go off in search of other groups to supervise and leave Harry, Ella and I alone.
"Hey, can we join your group?" Amy asks suddenly, her eyes intently trained on Harry's lips, and her friend - Olivia, I believe - stood behind her with a smug smile.
"I mean, sure, if you want," I reply, despising the way she's staring at Harry like an object. He's so much more than hot and you have no idea. Harry's eyes widen at my answer and he subtly turns to me and shakes his head, "actually, we have some other people that we already told could be with us. Sorry."
"Come on, don't be rude, I'll stay anyway," she insists, her eyes now on Harry's crotch, making me step in front of him and send her a warning look, which is not well received, "have you got a problem?"
"Yeah, I do. You keep staring at Harry like he's a piece of meat and that's not true. Have some respect, he's a human. Just because he's hot doesn't mean he's a free ride," Harry squeezes my hip appreciatively, but also probably in a warning to calm down.
"What? You have a little crush on him, too? Guess what, Hana, he would never go for you." He had his tongue buried inside of me literally an hour ago, you stupid bitch.
"And he'd go for you? Think it would've happened by now. And didn't he reject you a week ago? Hasn't he rejected you every time you tried to touch him? Why'd you think that is?" her impossibly strong resilience begins to get on my nerves, simply turning her nose up at my speech and ignoring me.
"That was hot," Harry whispers, fingertips digging into the flesh on my waist.
"You're hot," he simply rolls his eyes and smiles down at me fondly, eyes flicking down to my lips and I can tell he wants to kiss me, but he refrains, clearing his throat as he snaps out of his trance and remembers that the room is full of other people, "I'm sorry, baby."
"It's fine. I can wait."
"You mean you can wait until we play the game and then make out with me behind a tree," I tease. Harry shrugs.
"Would you complain? I will be doing that but you get no credit for the idea."
"Oh, and I'm meant to agree to this?"
"Please, Cherry," He asks innocently, his tone smooth and... nice, which makes me narrow my eyes.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, of course, why wouldn't I be?"
"You're being nice," he scoffs at this, claiming that he's always nice - I just flick him in the forehead, mostly for fun.
"One person from each group come forward and choose any colour flag!" Carl instructs, even just the sound of his voice makes me mad. It makes me imagine all the times that voice and the hand he's gesturing with have hurt Harry and made him cry. "Hana, I just wanted to make sure you were alright after your fall the other day," his voice is sweet as sugar, so different to the one he used to scream at Harry yesterday that he's entirely unaware that I heard.
"Yeah, I'm good," I respond curtly, not wanting to talk to him any more than necessary, or at all, really, but trying to avoid suspicion of why I would be mad. I'm not meant to know about what a piece of shit you are.
"Alright, just know you can come and talk to me if you need to. And we've arranged for you to talk to your dad this evening."
"Thank you," I reply, quickly zooming away with my light blue flag back to Harry.
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she zayned innit x