Baby Lips

Harry Styles was used to getting what he wanted. But that seemed to change when Scarlett McVay crashed into his life... literally.

Harry wants the one girl that doesn't want him back, and he'll do anything to have her.

Winning what you want might mean losing something you need.


15. Fifteen

The storm that shook me up last night seemed to work wonders on the weather. It was late November and prior to the heavy rain and thunder the weather was bitter and cold, but the water seemed to warm things up. Creating an almost spring-like day, something that I wasn’t complaining about. 
My strides began to mimic the upbeat tempo of Rihanna's music that blared in my ears. Beads of sweat began to form on my brow and the back of my neck. I couldn’t help but catch the sounds of my gasping breaths between pauses in the music. My feet were taking me in a longer jogging route than usual, but I didn’t object. I just kept going. 
I was more than confused when I woke up this morning. I wasn’t confused on the fact of how I got in my bed with Harry. Or even how I got so close to him. I was confused at the fact that I woke up slow and lazy. My eyes searching his long upper body and the dips and crevices of his muscles. I was wondering about the thick star that was inked on his underarm as it appeared when he stretched out his body in his peaceful sleep. And I couldn’t help but smile as I watched his jaw clench then loosen as soft snores escaped his parted lips. 
I guess I was confused on how enamored I was with Harry Styles. How completely captivated I was by the simplest things he did. How someone that rude and mean could actually be so handsome. 
I had finally lost it with myself when I nuzzled closer into the crook of the warm skin of his neck. I didn’t know what it was, it was just a little trigger that went off in my brain, and I was thankful for it. I subconsciously knew when I went too far with Harry. The same thing happened on the night I agreed to go back to his hotel room.  
And for lack of better terms, I felt... gross. And not because of the amount of sweat I was producing from my morning jog. But from the fact that I was clinging to two members of One Direction in a twelve hour time span. I wasn’t one to “play” boys. I wasn’t one to really do anything with boys. In fact, I don’t really remember the last time one person of the male species gave me as much attention as Harry or Zayn did. 
And there my mind went, going crazy at the thought of Zayn. Nothing was serious between him and I and nothing was permanent, but there was something. And I couldn’t quite put my finger on that something, but it was what brought us together. Maybe it was the way he could persuade me into doing anything by the sound of his voice or the sight of his honey-brown eyes. Or maybe it was just the way he already trusted my word... even when my word wasn’t entirely true. 
With a crowded mind, I made my final turn around the corner toward my flat. I hadn’t come to a decision on what exactly I was going to do, but I think spending some time alone with my cat would help me figure it out. 
Or maybe I could just do that forever. 
I yanked the white headphones out of my ears as I walked up the steps toward my apartment. My legs feeling a little weak and I’m sure my face was flushed an attractive shade of bright red. I licked my dry lips and turned to cool knob to my apartment. 
Harry sat on my small couch with his feet propped on the coffee table in front of it. He still hadn’t bothered to put on his clothes so his outfit consisted of his navy blue Tommy Hilfiger boxers. Newton sat on his abdomen purring and nuzzling his head into chest as Harry collected crumbs on the couch from the muffin he was eating. He lazily looked up at me when I cleared my throat. 
“I’ve made friends with your pussy.” He said with a full mouth. Oh, the ever so charming Harry Styles at his best. I thought as I tensed my shoulders in frustration. “Did you make these?” He asked pointing to the baked good in his hand, I nodded slowly. “They’re brilliant. Mind whipping up a batch for me to take home to the boys?” 
“If anything you should be baking for me. I did give you shelter last night.” I said walking over to him and scooping up Newton from his stomach. He meowed in displeasure but I ignored him and cradled his orange body in my arms. “And get your dirty hands off my pussy.”  
This caused a loud laugh to escape Harry’s mouth. One I hadn’t heard before, one that caused him to cover his mouth after he did so, with muffled giggles making their way through the skin barricade. I smirked at his action, but quickly shook my head as I walked toward the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Harry’s footsteps followed me. 
“You’re quite entertaining, Scarlett.” He said from behind me. I let Newton down and opened the fridge, grabbing a cold water bottle and turning toward him as I twisted the cap off. 
It was hard to look at Harry’s half naked body, but it was even harder to look away. I tried to keep my eyes from wondering down to the v-lines near his hips that led to a place that I could only wonder about when I was alone. 
“Would it kill you to put some clothes on?” I shook my head at him. Harry scoffed and turned toward the bedroom. After a few moments of sipping water and taking a seat at the small table I had set in my kitchen Harry emerged with the outfit that was once rain soaked on his drunken body, this time it was dry and fit him too well for his own good. 
He was almost as edible with clothes on as he was without. I bit the inside of my cheek roughly in punishment for my mind thinking horrible thoughts. 
“So you had a good day with Zayn yesterday?” Harry asked taking the seat across from me at the table. My face skewed at first, then I just settled with a raised eyebrow and a uncertain nod of my head. 
“Yeah... I... it was fun.” I struggled to find a way to describe my night prior to my meet up with Harry. He laughed and folded his hands on the table, his long fingers (Author’s note: HAY BECCA FINGERS!) toying with the colorful bands that piled on his wrists.  
“We do all live by each other, you know. The boys and I.” His eyes met mine. I didn’t know this actually and it would have been a bit nicer to be enlightened with this information a bit earlier. “And plus, Zayn can’t really keep his mouth shut when he’s got a girl.” I shook my head at his comment. 
“He doesn’t have me. No one has me.” I replied with an under layer of disgust in my tone. Playing on this, Harry replied: 
“I had you last night.” He tried to fight off the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile, but caved and grinned anyway. “When someone was afraid of the scary storm.” He continued to mock me. I sternly set my water bottle on the table and crossed my arms. My glare was focused on the beautiful weather outside, hoping that would calm my rising anger and keep me from pulling a Peeta Mellark and trying to choke Harry from across the table. 
“Shut up.” I mumbled under my breath, my jaw clenching in frustration. I could hear Harry giggle until it faded off. The two of us stuck in the murky depths of an awkward silence. All you could hear was Newton’s claws scratching against his post and the occasional car speeding past on the street.  
Harry finally spoke. 
“So are you coming?” He flicked the white paper pinned on the bulletin board next to the table where we sat. I looked up to see what he hit and noticed it was the ticket he had given me a week ago for the One Direction show on Saturday. I swallowed hard. It seemed like everywhere I went I couldn’t avoid that question. 
“I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders. Harry sat back on his chair; he crossed his arms over his black sweater, which I’m sure is much too heavy for the warm weather today, and studied my face. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking again. 
“If I was Zayn Malik asking you to go to our concert, would your answer be different?” My eyebrows immediately knit together. I had no idea what kind of impression he was under. I had hung out with Zayn a grand total of once. Although we were on our way to it, we barely knew each other. 
“Why are you asking me that?” I said pulling the sleeves of my zip up hoodie over my hands. 
“Why aren’t you answering me?” Harry retorted. 
“Why aren’t you leaving?” I growled. Harry held his hands up in surrender and smirked at me. He slowly stood up from the seat across from me, keeping his eyes locked on mine. In this current lighting, they looked a little more blue than green, but I tried my best not to care. 
“Thanks for letting me stay.” He spat as he started to walk out of the kitchen. “I would suggest showering the stench of your sweat off.” He turned on his heels and sauntered out without looking back. 
The door slammed shut. 

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...