'I will be in the restroom if you need me.' I tell Harry, leaning forward and putting my hands on his chest so he can hear me over the noise of the crowd surrounding us. The show is about 10 minutes away from starting now, and I'm not going to leave mid set to go to the bathroom. I know his sexually frustrated self is going to be bothered by my wording, which is precisely why I did it.
'Don't say that.' He breathes, leaning down so his lips meet my ear. 'Or, I will meet you in there and you won't return in time to watch them do the set.'
Through the crowd, I manage to find the dimly lit hallway with the two doors, one for each restroom. The hallway and adjoining restroom is quite empty considering the mass crowd outside, and I'm thankful I don't have to wait in a line.
Once I leave the restroom and walk back into the hallway, I'm half of the way back towards the main area of the bar when I hear a door open behind me. It's followed by light footsteps that sound vaguely familiar, and then a sleazy voice I'd recognise anywhere. It would be just my luck that Ethan is here.
'Ooh Sophie, sugar. That you?' He says, voice still as deep and creepy as I remember. I could pretend I don't hear him, but the hand on my shoulder makes that impossible. He's drunk, and I've never dealt with a drunk Ethan before. Sober Ethan was bad enough for me.
'Hi Ethan.' I deadpan, spinning around in record speed to get his hand off my shoulder. Ethan is a memorable individual I had the pleasure of meeting in high school. We never dated, nothing ever happened between us and I certainly had no interest in ever speaking to him, but it didn't stop his desire to flirt with me at every opportunity possible.
'As beautiful as I remember.' He grins, inching closer to me whilst examining my face and body. I back away until my back is flat against the wall, and I start running through possible ways to get out of this conversation. As creepy and invasive as he is, he never tried anything more than flirting with me, so I'm not worried for my safety, but these interactions are not ones I wanted to revisit.
'It's nice to see you, but I really need to get back.' I state firmly, and go to slide away, before the hand goes back on my shoulder. Someone walks past just as he does it, but they don't take a second glance.
There's no denying that Ethan isn't not attractive, and he used that to his advantage to get whatever girl he felt like back in high school, but he never managed to get very far with me, and that bothered him a lot. He's short, a lot shorter than Harry, but his light brown hair and angular jawline is enough to get most people swooning before they get to know his personality. He has the type of eyes that bore into you for far too long, making any interaction grossly uncomfortable. He conceals the trait well though, perfecting the look to make his eyes appear soft, thoughtful, and often, caring.
A lot can change in 9 years. Marriage, children, hell, you could even switch a career in 9 years, but Ethan is just as I remember him. Arrogant, shallow and self centered, just like his highschool self. He reeks of college frat boy, even though his college years are long gone, regardless of whatever sports scholarship he used to get in.
'Not so fast, sugar.' He says slowly, referencing my attempt to walk away, while continuing to look me up and down. 'I haven't seen you in a long time, and I didn't think you'd look this good.'
The music is still loud in the hallway, but the lighting is only dim. I can't see his eyes clear enough, but it would not surprise me if he's not just drunk.
'That's nice of you, but I need to go.' I try again, turning my shoulder and dismissing his comment, while reaching up to touch the necklace out of comfort, but my efforts are to no avail, because he continues talking. I am really not in the mood for this conversation.
'Fuck me.' He breathes. 'You are so..wow.' He restates, nodding reflectively, words starting to come out slower and lazier now. I begin walking away back to the main area, and then he opens his insufferable mouth again, following behind me. 'You work for that pussy stealing musician, don't you? You're together, yeah?' He asks out of nowhere, unsurprisingly not a hint of annoyance in his voice, and it takes all the control in me to not rain down abuse on him. If his arrogance has led him to believe that I'd be interested in sleeping with him, he's severely mistaken, both because of Harry, and my general feelings towards him, regardless of Harry.
'No, I don't actually. Can't say the name rings a bell.' I deadpan again, and continue walking away without turning around. I could correct him and tell him all the ways that Harry is a million times the man that this arrogant jock will ever be, but there's no point wasting my breath on him.
That's when Harry appears at the edge of the hallway as I walk out, eyes softening when he sees me, and then hardening when he sees the hand that was just moved to hang off my shoulder. His jaw clenches, and I watch his hands curl into a fist.
'Here he is, the man himself.' Ethan states casually, as though he's got some ownership over me. I quickly move out from under his touch, for the third time now, and the look in Harry's eyes is enough to scare me. I quickly walk towards Harry, and his arm instinctively goes to the small of my back.
'That's enough mate. She's with me.' Harry swallows thickly. He sounds remarkably calm considering the tense shoulders. He obviously knows exactly what's going on without having to see more than a drunk and high male, with a hand on my shoulder, who I'm quite clearly trying to escape from.
'But is she really? When we think about it, is she really?' Ethan insinuates, suggesting something that I don't know. 'She could be with anyone here, I mean, look at her.' He says, gesturing down at my body. I think he's just trying to bait Harry, much like he always did with Ollie.
'It's lucky she's with me then, isn't it.' Harry states, holding in his anger, but eyes shooting daggers at the smug look on Ethan's face.
'I could take that perky eye candy from you in a second.' He tells Harry. 'Couldn't I?' Ethan asks me, almost swaying on his feet. He's most definitely drunk and high.
'You couldn't, actually.' I begin. 'It would be life's greatest pleasure to never speak to you again.'
'Ooh, wow, she's got an attitude now.' Ethan remarks, putting a hand on his heart in fake offence, stepping backwards as though he's been shot. 'Did you teach her that, or does fucking a dude in a band for 11 year old girls just do that to someone?' He asks Harry. 'Which do you think it is?'
Harry is seething, I think more so from Ethan's comments about me than about the band, and before I can get in another word, he's towering over Ethan, moving towards him at a threateningly close distance, and I'm left standing in my spot behind him.
'Here's what I think, mate.' Harry starts, voice scarily low and slow, neck leaning down. 'I think you're an arrogant, drunk and high piece of shit who thinks it's okay to go around trying to have sex with anyone and everyone he pleases, even when they're not interested or available.' He says, and although it's not a threat, it certainly sounds like one. Ethan looks up at him dazed, but completely unaffected by what Harry is saying.
'Here's what I think. I think you're a bit fucking insecure.' Ethan replies, half zoning out. 'Famous Harry Styles is scared his precious girlfriend fakes it when they fuck.' He adds in. Harry scoffs in ridicule at Ethan's ridiculous little sentiment, and, as the precious girlfriend, I can confirm that Ethan is wrong.
'Women are not on earth for you. They are not here to satisfy your desire to wank-'
'But it sure as hell feels good.' Ethan cuts in, words almost slurring now. Harry's entire body is tense, and I'm not sure if I've ever seen him so angry. I can see the anger coursing through every part of him, and I don't know how to stop it from exploding.
'Have some respect for yourself, and for her, and for every other woman in this room. You need to leave.' Harry snaps, letting some of the anger spill out.
'Why should I, Harry Warry?' Ethan pouts, condescendingly.
'Because I will make you regret it.' He responds, jaw clenching repeatedly. I walk over to Harry and reach for his arm stuck firmly at his side, in some sort of attempt to take away his anger, but when he turns to look at me for the split second he does, the anger in his eyes has made the usual green almost disappear.
'Fuck me, nobody likes a raging feminist, Harry.' Ethan says, a laugh sloppily escapes his lips.
'I'm not a raging feminist. I'm a grown man with a simple understanding that women are not walking around to please me.' Harry shoots back, starting to raise his voice.
'I called your girlfriend sugar every day back in school.' Ethan slurs, completely losing the train of the conversation. Whatever he took is starting to take effect, and I'd rather not be around to see when it's fully kicked in. 'She's sweet like sugar, and fuck if she isn't easy on the eyes.' He lazily reaches up to pat Harry's shoulder, but Harry moves away before the slowly moving hand reaches his shoulder.
'Do not fucking touch me.' Harry says, more to himself than to Ethan. I know the last thing Harry would want is for this to go any further than a conversation, but I don't think he trusts himself.
'Okay, that's enough.' I decide, stepping in between the two of them and pushing the bodies apart.
'No, sugar. Let me go at him. He's a fucking man whore, aren't you, Harry Warry?' Ethan remarks, and knowing that it might be a bad idea to stay so close to them, I stupidly step away. The words Ethan is throwing out are making me angrier that I'd like to admit, but I know that if I react, Harry will too, and he's already so close to losing it.
Ethan starts pushing his hands into Harry's chest, in an attempt to ark Harry up.
'Show us what those famous fists can do.' Ethan continues, pushing into Harry further. Their extreme height difference would make the situation almost comical, but the words being spat at Harry are growing panic inside me, instead.
'Do not come near me.' Harry states, voice dropping even lower and more threatening than it was before. He steps back, and I can tell it's taking all his strength to not push back. Ethan doesn't listen, only charging closer to Harry, and then I start to really panic.
The interaction has now spilled back out into the main space, and if the sweaty bodies surrounding the two of them weren't so distracted, all eyes would be on the fight that I think is about to ensue.
I know to not go near them, but I can't let Harry get involved in anything with Ethan. Most importantly, because I refuse to let him get hurt, but also because if a fight, witnessed by a room full of people, involved Harry Styles, we're going to have serious problems.
In a matter of seconds, I quickly scan the room, and spot some security standing by the door. They could be useful.
I dash over to them, shamelessly pushing through the crowd without a second thought, and I'm almost out of breath by the time I reach the door. I didn't give myself a second to think about what I was going to say, and now the words are just tumbling out.
'Hi, sorry..uh..a man over there is trying to provoke a fight.' This sounds like bullshit. 'He's very drunk and high..I think, and..' I need to come up with a kicker. '..I feel very unsafe.' I rush out, coming up with it as I say it.
'Okay ma'am.' The buff man replies, voice thick with the typical New York drawl. He starts pushing through the crowd immediately, and I have to thank my lucky stars that what I said to him was alarming enough.
I direct him to where I last saw the two of them, terrified at what he's going to find. I can't have been gone for any longer than a minute, but a lot can happen in one minute.
'Throw a punch, pretty boy!' Ethan continues to provoke, hitting Harry's chest with a lot more violence this time, with a voice much more slurred, but much louder too. Harry says something back and I can see his mouth moving from here, but it's too quiet for me to hear what he says. He knows what will happen if anyone recognises him, and he's trying to keep the situation as quiet as possible.
Before Ethan even realises what has happened, he's out of Harry's face, and being pulled away through the crowd. I don't know what will happen to him, or if he's going to get kicked out, but I can't imagine security would let him near Harry again, especially if they recognised who Harry is.
The crowd barely notices the ordeal, too engrossed by the band walking onto the stage, but those who notice are thankfully more focused on Ethan being dragged out to notice Harry. It helps his face is well concealed in the dark lighting of the bar.
Harry is angry, and I know it's not at me, but his chest is heaving and he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists, as though he's itching to punch something. Unless it's a punching bag, that's very unlike him.
Seconds after Ethan is gone, he comes towards me and grabs my hand, pulling me back down into the hallway, where it's quieter and completely empty.
'Are you okay?' He asks, eyes full of worry but body still reeling with anger.
'I'm fine.' I answer. He doesn't look like he believes me, but the truth is that I am fine. Ethan didn't do anything other than touch my shoulder and use a few choice words. 'Really, I'm fine.'
'Who is he?' He asks, anger still ever present.
'He's a guy from high school.' I try to explain, but his stance doesn't soften at all. We're so close in proximity and the look on his face is enough to drown out every other sound in the bar.
'Why was he talking about you like that?' He continues, hands furiously running through his short hair. I reach up to touch his face in nothing but concern, and smooth out the creases in his face.
'I don't know.' I say, searching his face and willing for it to soften. 'He did it through high school. I think he just wanted to see if I'd fall at his feet.'
'Fuck.' He breathily says, pulling me into his arms, in what I think is a subconscious attempt to protect me.
'He was never this bad though. It was just because he wasn't sober tonight, I think.' I add in, trying to put out the fire. 'I'm okay. It's okay.'
'I'm sorry.' He simply breathes, resting his cheek on the top of my head. His voice is softer and slower now, but he's still so angry.
'You have nothing to be sorry for.' I say quietly, letting his arms engulf me. My hands habitually start running up and down his back, doing anything I can to take away how angry he is. 'These things happen.'
'But they shouldn't.' He states, matter of factly, with an undertone of anger and disgust.
He's right. These things shouldn't happen, but as difficult as it is, they happen, and there is nothing to do but let it go. At least Ethan is gone now, and I can't imagine he'll be pulling the same thing again with anyone else after the scare with security. At least not here, or tonight.
'Are you going to be okay?' I ask, looking up to see his face. He's been more affected by this situation than me, and I can tell it's going to take a lot from him to be able to move on from this tonight.
'Yeah, I just..like..I'm angry.' He decides.
'I know.' I nod understandingly. 'You did the right thing, and he's gone now. He can't do that to anyone else here.' I attempt to comfort. His head dips down and he kisses me, in some way that seems sort of protective, and I let him. I think he just needs to feel that I'm okay, and I'm safe, and I'm still his, and I couldn't love him more for needing reassurance.
Eventually his tight grip around my waist loosens, once reality hits that the band is currently about to start their second song. Before we return to the crowd, he pulls out his phone, and I quickly get a Twitter notification on mine.
@Harry_Styles: Please, treat people with kindness. In the end, we only have each other. H
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The band only has a half an hour set, but they make every minute count. All three girls sing solo and together throughout, and even Mitch manages to crack a few smiles. Almost all of the songs they play are brand new songs that Harry and I haven't heard before, each showcasing the talents of each member. Mitch has a few guitar solos that the crowd loves, and all the girls have some incredible solos. Adam and Sarah's respective guitaring and drumming tie every song together, and Ny Oh's keyboarding is the cherry on top. She even whips out a tambourine at one point, which was more effective than you'd expect. It's all a soft rock sound, perfect for the venue and for the band.
But, like all good things do, it's over too soon and before we know it, the band, mostly Charlotte, are thanking the crowd and walking off the stage.
Soon after they finish and disappear, the group reappears and comes bounding up to Harry and I. Their trip to us is difficult with the praise they get from the crowd on their way over, but it's well deserved praise.
'How were we?' Charlotte asks, speaking for the group.
'Incredible.' I laugh.
'Really fucking good.' Harry adds in. His anger softened watching his other best friends perform, out of pure pride in them, and I'm so glad that Ethan won't ruin the night.
'I thought the same.' Mitch says, face completely blank. 'Really fucking good.'
'You would think that.' Charlotte says sarcastically to Mitch.
'Doesn't make it any less true.' He says flatly.
'Ignore him.' She tells Harry and I, and then nearly explodes with a sudden burst of excitement. 'Oh, how I've missed you!' She squeals, pulling me into a very tight hug as though we haven't seen each other in 5 years.
'Was Mitch's guitar playing too much? I thought he took a lot of the attention away from us.' Adam jokes, half complimenting, half insulting, Mitch. Charlotte pulls away and allows me to rejoin the conversation, just in time.
'Not at all. It's called Sarah's band, not Mitch's band, for a reason.' I tease.
'That's my girl.' Harry grins, looking at me with so much adoration for such a simple comment that I nearly pull him into a dark corner to kiss him all over.
'Very funny, Sophie.' Mitch deadpans, pulling me out of my trance, glaring at Harry, with a slight smile peeking through.
'Maybe Ny Oh's band?' Ny Oh includes.
'I like Sarah's band.' Sarah shrugs, contrasting her usual humble behaviour, so much so, that Mitch's swooning can be seen in the dark of the bar.
'My god, we are not talking about band names right now!' Charlotte disciplines. 'We are having fun tonight!' She announces, pulling me by the wrist to the bar, where everyone follows.
Charlotte, Sarah and I end up at a table, while the boys disappear somewhere, catching up on everyone's lives. Sarah fills us in on everything with Mitch, Charlotte talks about Thom, whom she's quite obviously very in love with, and Ny Oh adds in stories about the couples wherever necessary, with perfect comedic timing.
We talk for what feels like hours, and it probably is hours. Eventually, I leave the girls in a slightly tipsy conversation about the pros and cons of electric and acoustic guitars, to go find Harry. He has his claws sunk so deep in me that I start to miss him when he's not around for a few hours.
When I find him, he's standing by the bar and talking to a girl who looks to be about 21, with no Mitch or Adam in sight. I hesitantly walk up to the pair, not wanting to interrupt whatever conversation they're in, and once I'm beside him, he senses my presence and turns to look at me.
'Hello there.' He grins fondly, wrapping an arm around my waist protectively.
'Hi Sophie.' The girl smiles too, and it's a look in between awe and friendship, but I don't recognise her from anywhere. 'My name's Clarissa.' She quickly includes, and I realise that means I probably haven't forgotten who she is, thank god. 'I'm a big fan of you and Harry.' That makes sense.
'Thank you!' I laugh, unsurprised that Harry got into a lengthy conversation with a fan. 'It's lovely to meet you!' I grin. I quickly wriggle out of Harry's grip to give her a hug, because I can tell Harry has taken a liking to her, and that means I automatically take a liking too.
'Gee, don't take her from me, Clar.' Harry jokes, and once she lets go, he returns the subtle arm around me, tracing patterns on the fabric covering the curve of my waist. Harry is so rarely affectionate in public, but it's obvious he must feel comfortable here, even if nobody can see the arm around in me in the dark, talking to his new friend Clar. I think this means the events of Ethan are no longer in the forefront of his mind, which I'm thankful for.
'Nicknames already?' I laugh. 'Actually, nevermind. I wouldn't expect anything less.' I laugh again, shaking my head. If Harry takes a liking to a fan, he treats them like they've been friends for years.
Sometimes, he gets into lengthy conversations with fans, especially if he's not busy and has nowhere to go. He has some amazing fans, who don't care for a photo or an autograph, but just want to talk. He's happy to do either, but it's obvious he's taken a liking to this Clarissa and he enjoys genuinely interacting with the people who support him.
'Oh sorry..what conversation did I interrupt?' I ask, realising that I obviously interrupted an in depth conversation.
'Clar is telling me about what she's studying in..college? That's what you Americans call it, but obviously I prefer university.' He scoffs.
'Last time I checked, you didn't even graduate high school.' Clarissa fires back, utilising her fan knowledge, and Harry and I both laugh. It's moments like this when I realise how much I love the fans.
'You know too much.' Harry scoffs, and then turns his head to me. 'Clar is studying philosophy at Columbia.' He explains casually, as though it's nothing, and Clarissa nods while I start to laugh.
'That's what I studied at Columbia too.' I nod jokingly, informing Clarissa on why this is amusing, laughing at Harry's choice of fan to talk to. 'He must have a type.' I tease, making it sound more like a question, looking up at him as I say it.
'Is that why you took such a great interest in what I'm studying? Because Sophie studied it as well?' Clarissa asks, mouth jokingly agape in offended shock and pointing her finger at him accusatively.
'That is not fair. I'm being targeted.' Harry whines, and Clarissa and I both laugh. Poor Harry is being targeted. 'I think philosophy is great.' He adds in.
'Well, great or not, I'll take it from here.' I decide, nodding whilst condescendingly patting his chest.
Clarissa and I get lost in conversation about college, sharing stories and discussing our philosophical opinions. Philosophy is one of my great loves, but it's not a subject I can easily discuss with most people. But, Clarissa, being a philosophy student, is perfect for the conversation. I never lost my love for the subject when I drunkenly applied to be a 'prominent young male musician's' assistant, and even after I was drawn into his world and fell in love with that musician, philosophy always held a place in my life, even if it's not how I had initially planned.
Harry tries to participate in the conversation with Clarissa, but he can't join in on a conversation about absolutism and fatalism. Some conversations just aren't meant for world famous musicians who also happen to be high school dropouts.
I was always skeptical about fatalism throughout college, but after meeting him, part of me wonders if the notion rings true. Like I told Eleanor when we went out for coffee, the likelihood of finding a job application and drunkenly being dared to apply, and then getting the job without any qualifications, and the chances of it being him, and him becoming the love of my life, seems a lot like fatalism to me. Or maybe that's just the alcohol I've consumed talking.
Eventually our conversation ends, and with endless thanks, Clarissa leaves.
'She was great.' Harry announces, putting his hands on my shoulders.
'She was great.' I confirm, laughing.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Harry is seriously intoxicated and definitely not sober. I'm totally fine, completely unaffected. My alcohol tolerance is through the roof. I don't even know what drunk is. But Harry is drunk to the point where he's walking through the door of my house and taking his shirt off for no reason..I think no reason.
'This is a family house.' I assert, putting my hands on Harry's in an attempt to stop them from pulling up the shirt, but I sort of feel like seeing him shirtless so I don't know why I'm stopping him.
'So?' He rebuts.
'My mother does not want to see you naked if she wakes up.' I say, rolling my eyes.
'You don't know that. She might want to see this.' He says, gesturing down to his body. It's definitely an understatement to say that I love that body, so I don't want any other eyes on it.
'She's not available and neither are you.' I say, grabbing his face and planting one on him.
'Woah.' He says, when I pull away, eyes going wide, and pushing his lips out. Why is he so shocked?
Eventually he lets go of his grip on the hem of his shirt, and I walk into the kitchen, where I jump up on the counter, swinging my legs. Someone kindly left the lights on downstairs for us when we got home, bless their soul.
'You little minx.' He says accusatively, coming forward and kissing me like his life depends on it. Before I know it, I'm taking his shirt off..which was an absolute mistake and I don't know what happened because I was trying to stop him two seconds ago. It's not like I'd do anything on the kitchen counter..of my childhood home.
I pull away, breathless, when I hear a ringing phone coming from beside me. Of course it's Liam James Payne trying to FaceTime Harry. What a mood killer.
The green eyed magician I was just locking lips with somehow one handedly declines the call, not even looking at his phone, and moves his hand back to my face, and then Liam calls again, this time it's just a phone call..and then Harry answers the phone and lets go of me. This rejection hurts, and I'm not going to let this go. Liam doesn't have any time to respond before Harry is verbally assaulting him.
'Don't call me again, Liam, or I will leave the band.' He threatens into the phone.
'I just wanted to tell you-'
'I am very busy, Liam.' Harry cuts him off, and before Liam can say anything back, Harry dramatically ends the call. That was so not treating Liam with kindness.
'Sorry about that. He loves me too much.' Harry smirks, leaning in again, but I turn away with a smile on my face.
'No thanks. Not interested anymore.' I say, reaching for a banana in the middle of the counter, leaving him hanging in mid air, poor thing.
I peel the banana, but then before I can take a bite, he leans in and takes a bite big enough to finish half of it. I was actually going to eat that, but apparently Harry wants me to starve.
'Okay, well entertain yourself with that if you're so hungry.' I decide, knowing he certainly didn't have any initial interest in it and I'm only going to make him more frustrated. I pass him the banana since he's having so much fun with it and quickly walk away, up the stairs.
Even in his drunken state, he's still somewhat of a gentleman, turning the lights off in the kitchen before him and his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs after me.
'You do not walk away from me.' He says low and slow, and then in the complete darkness the banana ends up in my hand and I end up in his arms, being carried up the stairs. This is a total safety hazard, but it could be worse, considering I personally witnessed Harry losing his tongue after jumping out of a window.
'You know, you would've been a better kisser if you had a full tongue.' I say, not even realising what I've said until it comes out. Alcohol is one dangerous substance like that..so maybe I am slightly drunk too.
'You didn't kiss me when I had my full tongue. You wouldn't know.' He deadpans, pushing the door to my bedroom open with his foot.
'But I can imagine.' I retort, as he turns my lamp on, and plants me down. He takes the banana from my hand and leaves it on my bedside table, patting it lovingly and leaning down to kiss it.
'My darling Sophie thinks I'm a bad kisser. Did you hear her say that she thinks I'm a bad kisser?' He asks the banana he just kissed. I watch the ordeal from my spot in the middle of my room, smiling at him, while he falls back onto the bed with his arms in the air, in despair.
'No!' He exclaims, eyes screwing shut. 'This sucks!'
I let him lay in his misery while I untie the laces of my intricate shoes, and then join him on the bed.
'Hello.' I smile, on all fours, looking down at his face. I don't even know how I got here. His stupidly intense gaze stares right back at me, unmoving, with a smirk playing on his lips, and I watch his eyes darken.
It's at this moment that I realise I'm never in this position, on all fours above him. Usually he's the one doing this to me, so I'll be using this to my advantage if it's the last thing I do.
I lean down to kiss him, and he lets out somewhat of a groan when our lips connect, reaching to put a hand on my waist and one hand on my cheek. I move to his neck and kiss the soft skin there, moving down to his bare collarbones, and then the butterfly that I adore, and then his perfect abs, and then right to the spot just above his belt. His back arches at the feeling of my lips all over his skin.
I pull away, just before I get any lower, and look up to meet his eyes with a smile, and I swear he lets out a whimper. I've got him wrapped around my finger now.
'I'm going to the bathroom. Who knew drinking so much water could do this to a woman.' I shrug, trying to hold in a laugh. I already know how much fun I'm going to have with this.
'Water? You're going to the bathroom?' He swallows thickly, trying to conceal the shock in his voice that the trail I've left on his stomach has brought out.
To my surprise, he lets me slink off to the bathroom right outside my door without pulling me back onto the bed and undressing me on the spot. But, just as I turn the faucet off after washing my hands, I feel arms slink around my waist and breath laced in tequila in my ear.
'Let me show you water.' He says, familiar low tone back.
Before I have time to recover from his words the straps of my dress are being peeled down my shoulders, and his touch lingers for much longer than it needs to. His movements are soft, but hungry, and painstakingly slow.
I watch from the mirror while his hands struggle to untie the thin strings crossed over my back, and I take the opportunity to unbuckle his belt from behind.
I pull my arms back around to the front with the belt in my hand, and a satisfied smirk. I leave it on the bathroom sink, unsure of where else to put it and not particularly caring right now. I have much more important things to focus on, including the shirtless male standing behind me who is running his fingers down my back.
Eventually he gives up trying to untie the dress, and spins me around, feverishly pushing me back into the shower, pinning his hips against mine so my back is flat against the wall.
'Here's water.' He murmurs, in between kissing me, and turns the shower on. A cascade of freezing cold water pours down on the top of us, but I'm so lost in him that I barely give it a second thought.
'You,' He says, lips on my neck, while I let out a very strained sounding gasp. 'Are going to pay for this teasing business.' He whispers slowly, with a growl in his voice that I haven't heard in a long time.
'Mm.' I hum, closing my eyes and tilting my head back, while he does whatever he's doing with his lips to make me feel like this. He's probably going to leave a mark, but I can barely focus on that thought with the way his hands are slowly lifting up my dress, and fingers trailing up my legs with it.
I want this, and I want him, but I also want nothing more than to make this difficult for him, so I lift my hands to move his head into the place I want it, off my neck, in an attempt to slide out of his grip. That fails, when he moves his head of his own accord.
'Did I not make myself clear?' He asks lowly, making our eyes meet. His lips are the perfect pink, and the green in his eyes is much closer to the dark brown of mine now. There's water running down his cheeks and droplets in his eyelashes, and really my description can't do him justice. He's art. 'No teasing.' He growls, and then pins my hands beside me and only pushes his hips further into mine.
I let out a breathy laugh when I feel something against my stomach, and look down to be met with exactly what I thought I'd find.
'Well, would you look at that.' I comment, quickly recovering from the trance he just put me in, because I know exactly what I'm doing to him. He claims to hate my teasing, but the cold hard evidence suggests otherwise.
'All you, angel.' He whispers, pink lips brushing mine, gaze unmoving, with water falling between us.
'Oh, trust me.' I breathe, not moving my lips to stop them from brushing against his. 'I know.'
He releases his hands from my arms after a long time of our foreheads touching and heavy breaths being exchanged between us, and he returns to bunching up my dress. The weight of the water soaking his pants without the belt is enough to make them hang so low on his hips that his v-line is completely exposed, dripping with water.
I can tell he's getting more worked up the longer this goes on, and after making him wait for so long, I don't see what a few more minutes could do to harm him.
'Oops.' I laugh, biting my lip, as I turn the faucet off and the water stops running.
'Sophie, baby.' He sighs, forming a knot in my stomach at his use of that word. 'That was not the move. I hope you know that.' He reaches again, turning the stream of water back on, his beautiful curls flattened by the water. I don't know what he thinks he's threatening, but there's a part of me that's thrilled to find out.
'Mm.' I hum again, this time condescendingly, while he takes a sharp intake of breath when his eyes rake up and down the wet fabric clinging to my skin.
'Fuck, Sophie.' He whines at the sight, a complete mood change, head falling back and letting the water run down his exposed chest.
'Would you like me to take it off?' I ask, a smile playing on my lips, while I let my fingers ghost over the skin below his fern tattoos, reaching for the zip of his pants.
'No.' He mumbles. 'You have no idea how fucking good it looks.' He manages to get out, voice strained in pure need and desperation.
Soon enough his hands reach under my dress and into the bare skin of my waist, and I feel his fingers dig deep into the skin, struggling to grip to my wet skin.
By the look in his eyes, I already know that I don't want this teasing to continue. So, I stop it, right then and there.
I kiss him, and he reciprocates it, long and hard and needy, completely desperate to touch and kiss every inch of my skin, like I am him. I want to sink my teeth into his inked and sun kissed skin, a thousand times if I could.
He bites my bottom lip while he kisses me, and that completely untangles everything in me, but only tightens the pull of need I have for him. My hands are in his hair, and trailing down his arms and across his toned back, while his hands pull my body closer into him, letting the pouring water fall all over us.
My palms end up pressed against the cold tile of the wall behind me, while he moves onto my exposed collarbones. My head tips back and my back arches, only pushing my body into him further.
'Harry..' I gasp with a shallow breath, completely undone by what he's doing to me right now.
'What do you want?' He breathes.