Sprawled out with my leg intertwined with his, I felt the sorest I've ever been. I couldn't tell if it were from the hickeys all over my chest and neck or from the general ache of sex on me. All I could do was groan, it felt like the only way to showcase the pain.
"Fuck," I said, bringing a hand to my forehead, trying to relieve any of the pressure from my body. Harry stayed asleep, twitching slightly. He looked more peaceful than I ever have and I felt nothing but envy because of it.
Eventually I started to touch his arms, trace his many tattoos, to wake him up. I was getting bored of being the only one sore. He didn't move at first so I tried whispering to him to wake up.
Our argument the night before was far in the back of my mind. I didn't really want to dwell on it today or any day for that matter. It seemed silly and childish, especially since we fixed the issue our own way last night.
"Mornin'" he said, very low, almost like he didn't really want to say it because he was still fighting sleep.
"Hey sleepy head, let's eat."
"In an hour, babe."
I rolled my eyes and finally sat up seeing a small galaxy. Once my eyes focused, I grabbed onto his hand and started tugging. "Let's go come on, now."
"Violet, baby, I need more sleep." He said, head now in his pillow.
"Fine I'll eat alone, come down when you're done sleeping." I said before kissing the top of his head and getting out of bed. I steadied my head before heading towards the main stairs and towards our shared kitchen.
I decided on some cereal, no milk or anything. After that it was fruit and a glass of orange juice. That's when Harry decided to make a groggy appearance. He smiled and grabbed a cup of tea before walking to me for a kiss.
"Hey."
"Hi." I responded, looking up at him with a smile before taking another sip of my juice. We continued to talk like this for a couple of minutes, maybe ten, until there was a knock at the front door.
Harry seemed shocked, so I knew he didn't have a meeting or a package, and I sure as hell knew I had nothing going on. So, I got up puzzled and went to the door to open it. Once opened, the door revealed a shorter woman with dark brown hair who looked determined.
"Hello, is this Harry Styles' home?" She asked, with an English accent.
I must have looked shocked because she looked embarrassed.
"I'm sorry I must have the wrong house again." She began to turn away solemnly.
"Oh, no this is the right house!" I blurted. "What can I help you with?"
The next two minutes seemed to happen in slow motion. I asked. She almost answered. Harry came to the doorway. And they both seemed stunned. Obviously, they knew each other very well, and looked alike. Another obvious thing was that I had just met my boyfriend's mother whom I've heard so little about.