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.

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13. Thirteen

If there is anything useful my father taught me it is to always have an umbrella. And when I stepped off the train and saw that it was raining buckets of freezing cold rain, this advice came in handy. My boots sloshed and splashed water from the shallow puddles around my feet, normally I would walk home from the station. But since my flat was quite the hike away, I walked to a corner and waiting patiently to hail a cab. 
 
I couldn’t help but reminisce on the night I had just shared with Zayn. It was even better than how I planned it out in my head the night before. Just how easy it was to talk to him and laugh with him put me at ease. His subtle hints that he wanted to continue our get togethers were also quite reassuring.  
 
I bit back a smile as I raised my hand at the oncoming taxi. I shook off my black umbrella and quickly slid inside the car while dodging the heavy raindrops. I told the driver my address and sat back in my seat, feeling at ease for the first time in awhile. 
 
I didn’t have anything to worry about. My stressful paper was done and turned in. I didn’t have class for the next two days. I had just learned how to deactivate the e-mail notification for new mentions and followers on Twitter on the train ride home. And I had just gotten back from a splendid evening with an amazing boy. At this point nothing could take the small smile off my face. 
 
When the cab stopped I handed the driver the fare and slowly opened my door. I stuck out my umbrella unfolding it and limboing underneath it. I didn’t even know why I tried to avoid the rain, even with my dinky umbrella I was getting soaked. (Author’s Note: Dirty mind... I have one.) 
 
I began to scurry up the steps to my apartment building when something caught my eye. Something or maybe... someone? I squinted my eyes in the direction of a small pub down the street from my flat. I saw a figure of a man, one who didn’t seem the least bit coherent, arms flailing and a glass of something that I’m guessing wasn’t apple cider. He was yelling something, but I couldn’t make it out. 
 
His figure got larger as he came closer.  
 
At this point, I’m not sure why I didn’t latch onto the door and sprint for dear life away from this crazy drunk. I just kept my narrow eyes on him. Trying to make out his face and words. But his words became much more clearer as well as his familiar voice. My shoulders tensed as I noticed his wet curls stuck on his forehead. 
 
“Oi! Scarlett!” Harry called kicking his red Converse in a puddle and making his way closer to me. “Is that you, love?” His voice slurred. My eyes widened and I hopped down the wet cement steps toward him. My mind was more than confused. Questions on why he was here and who he was with swarmed my mind... I quickly had to remind myself that I shouldn’t care. 
 
“What are you doing here, Harry?” I shouted up at him. The monstrous raindrops clanged against every building and sidewalk making it a noisy atmosphere. Harry stumbled up to me, taking a large swig of the alcohol in his frosty  mug. 
 
“I like the way you say my name in that American accent of yours.” He giggled. “Haaarr-eee.” He smiled, mocking my voice and taking another slow slip of beer. I shook my head at his immaturity. 
 
“Seriously, Har-” I stopped myself from saying his name again as he began to cackle. “Why are you here, in Oxford, on a Saturday night?” Harry looked around, his face changing drastically. Like he was finally aware of his surroundings. 
 
“Dunno.” He pulled on the collar of his drenched black sweater. “Do you think you could help me figure that out?” I rolled my hazel eyes, completely frustrated with drunk Styles. Harry lazily smiled at me, his dimples slicing his cheeks. He threw his head back as he slurped the last of his drink. 
 
“Did you steal that glass?” I asked. Harry knit his eyebrows together and tapped the condensated sides of the mug with his pointer finger. 
 
“I guess so!” He laughed. His eyes squinted together at how hard the fit of laughter was. If we weren’t standing in the pouring rain and he wasn’t piss drunk, I would have actually thought it was a cute quality about him. But seeing our situation, it was the most obnoxious thing he could do. 
 
“Well, do you want me to call you a cab or something?” Harry stopped laughing. 
 
“Do you live close by?” He asked starting to walk right past me. I jogged next to him, trying to keep up with his long strides. 
 
“Yeah, I live down the street.” I responded when I finally caught up with him. I stopped him when we marched right in front of the steps to my flat. “Right here actually.” I jerked my head toward the building. Harry looked up at the falling rain and back down to me. 
 
“Well Scarlett, are you going to invite me up or what?” He said already taking the first steps up.  
 
“Uh, it wasn’t on my list of things to do.” I said fishing for my keys in my bag. Harry stopped to eye me. His eyelids slowly blinking over his bloodshot eyes. I didn’t even notice how red they were, even the rims of them were a shade of pink and a bit puffy. As if he had been... crying. There was a bit of a tug on my heart when I saw the corners of his lips droop in a frown. “But... why don’t you come inside and, uh, dry off.” I whispered. 
 
His dry lips forced a smile as he followed me up two flights of steps and into my small flat. I was relieved when I opened the door that I had done some tiding up earlier. Let’s just say, I wasn’t always the neatest person. Harry kicked off his shoes by the door and wobbled around the area by my small couch before falling on it dramatically. I cringed, knowing his wet clothes were dampening the material of my furniture. 
 
“Here.” I held out a hand. “Go change in the bathroom and I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer for you.” Harry took my hand and I yanked him up.  
 
“How kind of you, Miss McVay.” He said in a royal accent. I huffed out a small laugh but it got caught in my throat when I noticed that Harry began to disrobe right in front of me. His black jumper already in a sopping mess next to his feet. He was fiddling with his belt buckle when I hollered at him to stop. 
 
“Bathroom, Harry!” I pushed his bare shoulders, they were freezing cold and very toned. “I said change in the bathroom!” I led him to the lavatory while he giggled the whole way there. He spun around once he was in there. 
 
“Don’t deny the fact that my naked body would be quite the treat.” He winked at me. I let out a noise of disgust and shut the door on him. But I gulped quickly, not getting the image of his long, sculpted torso out of my mind. The band of his Tommy Hilfiger boxers peeking over his jeans. I shook my head hard and scooped up his sweater and jeans when he threw them outside the bathroom. 
 
I clicked a few buttons and watched his clothes tumble in the small clothes dryer I had in a nook in my apartment. As my eyes became hypnotized by the swirling denim, I jumped a bit when I heard the low grumble of thunder in the distance. I sighed loudly. I had always hated thunderstorms. No matter how old I am, they will always scare the living hell out of me. 
 
I scampered across my living room and toward my bed, but was very unpleased when I saw Harry’s body cuddled underneath the fluffy comforter that topped it. Rolling my eyes for what seemed like the thousandth time tonight I marched over to the side of my bed with my balled fists firmly resting on my hips. 
 
All I could see peaking out of the covers was Harry’s messy curls. They were still a bit wet, but only on the top. I cleared my throat and saw his flushed face snap up.  
 
“Oh.” I whispered.  
 
The bags under his dull green eyes were slick. His lips rosy and puffy and his cheeks had lost all color. His black eyelashes were clumped and damp. 
 
I had just caught Harry Styles having a cry. 
 
“Harry...” I said in a shushed tone. Lowering my body so I was sitting next to him. He scooted away quickly. “Harry, what’s wrong?” He forced a laugh before he spoke. 
 
“What? Nothing, you have a comfortable bed.” He said trying to change the subject. I slowly blinked and pressed my lips together firmly. 
 
“I’m sure it’s not that comfortable that it reduced you to tears.” I rested my head on hand, searching his face and eyes for answers. They gave none. They were blank, secluded, walled up. He pushed himself up on his elbows and rubbed the bridge of his nose with is thumb and pointer finger. Probably because of the fact he was dizzy or something. 
 
“I met someone.” He started and continued after seeing the confusion in my face. “That’s why I’m here in Oxford, I was meeting someone. They wanted to talk.” I pulled a face. 
 
“I’m guessing that someone is a girl. But you know... I don’t judge.” I shrugged, attempting humor to lighten Harry’s mood. He cracked a small smile on the side of his mouth, shaking his head. 
 
“Yes, Scarlett. A woman. A bloody awful one at that.” Harry pulled his elbows out from under him and let his back flop back on my bed. His hands rubbed against his face as he made a groaning noise against them. 
 
“Well... who is she?” I said after his groans stopped. He opened his hands against his face, the way one would do if they were playing peek-a-boo with a baby. “If you, er, don’t mind me asking.” I scratched my forearm awkwardly. 
 
“Don’t worry about it.” He rolled over so his body was facing toward me more. I sighed and pursed my lips.  
 
Harry seemed to have a lot on his mind, and I didn’t want to pry anything out of him that he didn’t want to talk about. He sounded as if this woman really heart him or once meant a lot to him. He sounded like actually had feelings. 
 
“You know you have incredible lips.” His drunken slur was back. 
 
Scratch that. He has no feelings. 
 
“Excuse me?” I tried to make eye contact with him, but I noticed he was staring at my mouth. Which made me a bit uncomfortable. 
 
“Your lips. They’re nice. I like them.” He smirked and tugged on the blankets that surrounded him. “And they are incredibly soft.” I could feel my cheeks redden by the second. “Like a baby.” 
 
I laughed awkwardly at his rambling. 
 
“Scarlett, you have baby lips.” I quickly ran a hand over my mouth, but quickly dropped it when I saw Harry smile at my action. I inhaled deeply and tried to change the subject, but Harry took the initiative. 
 
“So I’m staying here tonight, then?” His heavy eyelids began to droop. I could tell he was exhausted. And he was drunk and crying over a girl. I couldn’t exactly kick him out and tell him to get lost. I actually have a heart. 
 
“Sure.” I heard myself whisper. Harry’s eyes closed and a smile stretched on his red lips. He rolled back over on his back. His arms sprawled over his head. 
 
“Good night, baby lips.” Harry mumbled before drifting off. 

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