Man With a Gun

Sara Brookman lives with her mom now that her Dad left them, but she's just like any other girl. When she heard One Direction's music, she couldn't help but to fall in love, like millions of fans. After she wins backstage passes she's ecstatic. But her feelings suddenly change to the opposite when she meets them and sees a mad man pointing a gun towards Harry. How will Sara somehow stand out to save the innocent lives? Sara puts all her trust in fate to guide her growing relationship with Harry, but can that be enough. Copyright © All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.


34. 34. Make It Better

We remain in this position until I fall asleep with my head buried in his shirt.

"Sara? Sara where are you?" Is the voice that wakes me up. I open my heavy eyelids and see Harry had leaned back and sprawled his arms out throughout the sheets of the bed, his face under the thick flannel material and my head is still on his lap. I pull the blanket off of him and am caught off guard to see he's still sleeping. I can't help but leak a smile that he called my name in his sleep.

I grab my phone and check the time, it reads 9:45am. My mind instantly jolts awake and I remember I need to get home before my mum notices I'm not there. If she finds out I snuck out, god knows what she'll do to me.

I slowly lift my head from his legs and his hand slips off my side. As soon as I stand up, Harry of course, opens his eyes. His raspy morning voice asks, "Hey, where're you going babe?"

"I need to get home before" then Harry interrupts mid sentence, "Are you alright? Wait you can't go we need to talk, love." And he picks up his phone and shows me the evidence. I see the text I sent him last night that basically says we're over. My mouth drops, how could I forget that I sent that? Harry's face shows pure sadness and some confusion.

"When did you read that message?" I ask shyly.

"Last night, before I found you." He plainly admits.

"...You still rescued me even though I broke up with you?" I say with my hopeful tone of voice. This makes me think so greatly of Harry.

"Wait, we're really over?" Harry looks like he's going to cry but he holds it toghether.

"What, no! No I meant, well it's kind of a long story but I'm not breaking up with you. I didn't mean to send that." I quickly try to explain.

"Then who did you mean to send it to?" The look on his face grows more and more concern. "Did you have another..." and I stop him this time, "No of course not Harry, I would never cheat on you, in fact, that's the reason I sent it to you; I thought you were cheating. But don't worry I know you're not now!" I breath a long breath. "Okay, let me explain this mess." And I tell him everything from sneaking out, throwing rocks, seeing two figures, and getting stuck in the bushes. I finish up my story, "And when you came outside, I was so confused, I thought it would be your dad that came looking outside. Why did you come?"

"Well I heard my parents yelling things out the window and after they went back asleep I decided to do some searching of my own, and I was right to do that. Otherwise I would've never got you out."

"Okay so moral of the story, your window is on the left." I say sarcastically and let out a laugh. "Anyways, my mother..." I sigh.

"I can't let you leave like this." And he motions to my body. I take a look down and see how right he is. My arms are covered in dried out bloody scratches, my hair is tangled up on the sides, and my hands are smudged with dirt stains. I look back up to Harry, "Wow, I'm sorry." I apologize for being such a mess.

"It's alright darlin, come on." He says and stands up, holding one arm around my shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up." And as we walk to the bathroom I can't help but think maybe getting stuck the shrubbery was a good thing.

He closes the bathroom door behind him and he instructs me to sit up on the table. I do so and I watch as he dampens a washcloth with warm water and squeezes the excess out. This alone gives me uncontrollable butterflies deep in the pit of my stomach. When he is next to me again, he gently wipes away at the scratches on my arms. Slowly making his way from my wrists to my shoulders. I don't know how to explain the feeling but it's somehow more relaxing than any massage I've ever had at a salon. His hands are so warming and kind against my skin and tingles every nerve he touches. Every so often I can feel his eyes glance up at mine along with a subtle smirk. After he's done both arms he asks, "Did it stick you anywhere else?" And the next few words that come out of my mouth weren't mine. Although I was not lying either.

"Actually, yes. When I fell in my shirt rode up." As I continued to talk, I grabbed my shirt and pulled it up over my head. Now, I was in his sweatpants and a bra. This is so unlike me but it was an 'in the moment' kind of thing and I don't know what took ahold my brain in doing this.

I crumple up the shirt in my hands and watch Harry's eyes get big, I see his chest moving a bit faster. I look down and see the scratches around my waist and stomach area then back up at him.

He speaks up and seems to play along, "But these don't seem to be bleeding." And they weren't since they were not as deep. "I guess I'll have to find another way to make them feel better." He reveals his dimple and suddenly swoops me up and carries me out into the hall.

"Harry I'm not wearing anything!" I whisper yell. But before he can reply we are in his room with the door closed and he lets me down onto the bed again. This time, I'm laying flat on my back and he has his hands by my hips as he hovers over me. The butterflies are fluttering throughout my entire core and they don't stop. Harry looks at the red marks on my abdomen and slowly lowers his face. Then, I feel his soft lips on my skin and a fire ignites somewhere inside me. He lifts and I open my eyes, which I just realized I closed. Just one kiss and I am at an alarming pulse rate. But then, he continues, and he kisses every single scratch I had on my stomach. Seconds later I wish I had more scratches, I never want him to stop. The last one he lifts back up. "Harry." I mumble, trying to find words. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to let time find me. Suddenly, he pins my hands on the bed and presses his lips on every mark on my arm now. He kisses me in a line that starts at my right hand, up my arm, across my neck and down my left arm. Finally, he gets to the last one and shifts up again. I flutter my eyes open and try to slow my breathing.

"Damn Brookman."

"What?" I giggle.

"No, it's just, I've never seen so much of you before."

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