Fake Love. || H. S.

She's a model. He's a singer. They want absolutely nothing to do with each other. Forced to love each other on-screen, and slowly off-screen. Very, very, very slowly.

"I loathe him."

©Copyright of khloerose 2014. All rights reserved.


8. one bed.

a/n: check info on my profile. 




       When we reached upstairs to our bedroom, we realised that the management was smart enough to tip off the paparazzi of our location to gain us more social activity, but not smart enough to book us a suite, and instead booked us a regular room with a kitchenette and small dining hall, but the perk was that there was only one bed in the room. There was a pull-out couch, but I wasn't planning on sleeping on it. It was a king-sized, big enough to hold 4 people, but still..... I rested my bag on the side of the couch, observing the room. The colours were nice, being relaxing beige shades and rusty orange-ish colours. I sighed softly, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender wafting from the centre-table which held a bouquet of fresh flowers that held the lavenders that was permeating the room with it's calming scent.

       The silence was comfortable. Until Harry decided he wanted to ruin that by pulling out the couch. I rolled my eyes, looking over at him. He pulled it out so it was laying flat, almost like a trundle bed. Harry sat down in the centre of it, and bounced a bit. I shook my head at his playfulness. I rolled my eyes and pulled my phone out of my pocket. A snap! sound was heard and I looked up from my phone to see Harry squished between the fold of the trundle. I burst out laughing, doubling over and holding my stomach. Harry's face had disappeared and no sound was heard. I was slightly afraid he had injured himself or stopped breathing with the forcefulness the trundle had put against his face and stomach. "Harry?" I asked him, the concern barely there. Silence was heard. I grew closer and managed to pry apart the fold. I felt my shirt being tugged on and suddenly, I was pulled down in between the folds as well. I squealed as I was met face to face by Harry, who had a smirk apparent on his face. I pouted like a tot.

        "What was the point of that?" I asked Harry, annoyed. "To annoy you," He answered bluntly. "Well you've accomplished." I told him, rolling my eyes. He sent me a cheeky smile, and I couldn't help but smile back. I began wriggling my body to fight my way out, and that had a great impact on Harry. He hissed. "You okay?" I asked Harry. "My manhood is just going through a bit of excitement right now." Harry whispered huskily. "Way to be blunt, Harry." I told him, scoffing, pushing on his chest to push myself up. When I got out of the fold, I was walking towards the bedroom when Harry tried to get out from between the folds of the trundle, only to be squeezed again, an 'oof' sound heard from him. I laughed again, turning around to take a quick picture of his head poking out from between the folds. If you could guess, the picture was posted on both Instagram and Twitter, captioned,


        @SerenityGriffiths: Poor Harry. Might as well cut off his curls, give them to the homeless, and plan his funeral now. #stuck. 




         After figuring out that the trundle wasn't properly functioning, we knew we would have to share the bed. It was getting late, it was around 11 PM. Harry was currently in his boxers while I was wearing black track shorts and a turquoise muscle-tee crop that showed off my sides and white bandeau underneath. I walked in from the restroom after brushing my teeth, walking across the room to sit next to Harry on the bed who was flipping through movies on the hotel television. He was scrolling through Netflix, and maybe this was only me, but he just seemed to take such a long time to choose a movie. I rolled my eyes as I had done many times before and almost skipped the Love Movies section until Harry told me to go back. I was expecting him to want to watch some kind of action movie, but who cares... I didn't. At least at the time. I clicked the arrow button on the remote, and Harry told me to stop. I saw that the movie I stopped on was Titanic. 

          I groaned loudly. Trust me, I can never get enough of DiCaprio, but I really wasn't looking forward to crying in front of Mister Sass-A-Frass. Nonetheless, I clicked on the movie, and the Titanic theme song began. I sat back against the pillows, getting comfortable. I can't deny not glancing over at Harry a few times, because then I would be lying. But hey, you can't just blame me, he kept glancing (more like staring) at me first. It became a bit chilly and I slid under the duvet where Harry's legs were laying. I still kept a few inches of distance between the two of this. 




           It had finally come to the part of the movie where Rose and Jack were out in the water. It was the most dreadful part for me of course, the feels attacking me from every which way. I lip-synced their parts, and sniffled a bit as Jack let go and DiCaprio's beautiful face went under the deep blue sea. It was silly to cry over such petty things as a movie, but it still made me sad. Out of the blue, I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist. I looked up at Harry, biting down on my lip nervously. I rested my head on his shoulder anyway and Harry picked me up, placing me on his lap. He pulled the duvet over our bodies and I laid on top of him, my ear pressed to his chest. The sound of the beat of his heart lulled me to sleep. But don't think this changes anything just because he felt some pity towards me after I got a bit sappy with the movie.


           I still loathe him.


a/n: like, comment, favourite. 

thank you, love's for the 42 likes, 53 favourites, 18 comments, and 270 views.

goal: 45 likes, 57 favourites, 20 comments, and 280 views. not too hard, right? let's do it.


khloe. xx

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