Isabelle's P.O.V

I peered at the clock on Gemma’s nightstand, bouncing my leg impatiently. It was eight at night, and Gemma was taking forever to get ready. “Gemma!” I called out, “Hurry the hell up!”

Her voice was muffled from the bathroom door, but it sounded like, “You can’t rush beauty!” I sighed exasperatedly and fell back on the bed, closing my eyes. Finally, I heard the sound of the door opening, and I sat back up, turning my head to the side. My hand immediately flew to my mouth. “Oh, Gem,” I breathed, "you look beautiful.”

“You think so?” she blushed and looked down, fiddling with the hem of her red dress. It was a strapless frock that went down to mid-thigh, and it was quite simple…but still gorgeous. I noticed Gemma reaching for a pair of black strappy heels and quickly sliding them on and fastening the clasp. “Okay!” she clapped her hands, “Your turn.”

“Gemma,” I said suddenly, catching my lip between my teeth, “I really don’t want to be taking advantage of you this way.” Gemma rolled her eyes, “Are you touching me in my sleep? No. So you’re not taking advantage of me. Just shut up—,” she turned, rifling through her closet, and finally smiled and pulled out a dress, “—and throw this onto your toothpick of a body.”

I caught the dress when she threw it at me and trudged into the bathroom, closing the door.

Quickly, I stripped out of my jeans and sweater and pulled it on, tying my hair in a messy bun so that I had enough leeway to zip it up. “Can I have shoes?” I called out. A moment later the door opened a crack and Gemma’s hand appeared, holding a pair of black Christian Leboutin pumps. I smiled and took them from her outstretched hand, mumbling a thank-you, and slipped them on.

I walked out of the washroom and observed myself in the floor-length mirror in the corner of Gemma’s room. There I stood, wearing a black, long-sleeved dress that dipped into a severe V-neckline. I was a little bit unsure about it, the dress being extremely exposing, what with the neckline and the fact that it was the same length as Gemma’s: mid-thigh. Gemma, however, squealed and came up behind me in the mirror. “Love, you look gorgeous!” I blushed, “Thanks.”

Gemma pulled me back into the washroom, where she did my hair. Soon, I had my locks tied up into a straight, sleek high ponytail, practically frozen in place with hairspray. Gemma had curled her hair, and long, bouncy blond ringlets fell down her back. As a finishing touch, she applied makeup to both of our faces, and soon, we both sported dark, smoky eyes and black, plump lashes. I looked at us in the mirror and grinned, “We look fabulous,” I commented, striking a pose. Gemma laughed, “Of course we do. Don’t sound so surprised.”

I bit my lip and turned to her, “Thanks for inviting me Gem. And for helping me look sexy.” She smiled at me warmly, and then her look turned dirty, “No problem. I think Harry will like it.” I buried my face in my hands. There was the cheeky, sarcastic and very inappropriate Gemma I knew so well.

I exited Gemma’s room, still hearing her cackling when I closed the door. I padded down the carpeted hall as quietly as I could, trying desperately to not fall and twist an ankle. I soon found myself at Harry’s door, and I braced myself before walking in, trying to rid myself of the blush that had crept up on my cheeks. I took a cliché deep breath and opened the door.

Harry had his back to me and was rifling through the drawers of his closet, occasionally cursing. He hadn’t heard me come in, and I almost giggled at how he could be so vulgar and still look so hot. He stood in only a green button up shirt and boxers. From behind him, I could see his shirt flap behind him, and guessed that it wasn’t exactly buttoned up. He wore black socks, which still made him looked oddly hot. A shiver passed through me, and I closed the door quietly and removed my shoes, tiptoeing over to him. I shoved my shoes to the side and, when I got close enough, wrapped my arms around his waist, my fingers splaying out on his abdomen. He tensed for a moment but then relaxed and turned to me.

Once he did, his eyes widened and he stepped back, holding me at arm’s length. “You look gorgeous,” he whispered, his eyes raking over my body. I looked down at the ground, blushing slightly. His thumbs rubbed circles on my arms and he took a step closer, peeling back the material of my black dress, which covered the love bite he’d given me earlier, thank God.

He ducked his head and his lips grazed against the purple bruise, and I shuddered. He continued to pepper kisses along my throat, and I arched my neck back, closing my eyes and allowing him more access, my fingers tangling in his hair. I hissed contentedly as his lips found their way to mine, and I pecked his mouth once, pulling back slightly. He groaned and tried to kiss me again, but I put a hand to his bare chest, tingles shooting up my arm. How is it that I’d known him for more than three weeks, yet I was still this nervous around him? I’d kissed him plenty of times, yet butterflies still flitted around my stomach when our hands brushed. It’s because you love him, a voice in my head said, and I closed my eyes.

“I think,” I said quietly, opening my eyes again to look at him, “That you should get dressed.” He looked like he wanted to argue. “I think,” he countered, “That you should let me rip this dress off of you.” I pressed a last kiss to his lips and smiled, nipping at his bottom lip. He inhaled deeply as I pushed past him and rummaged through his drawer, pulling out a pair of dark black jeans. I held them up for him to see and then threw them at him, “Go put on some pants.”

He caught them and groaned, throwing his head back, “You’re kidding, right?” I shook my head, smiling and biting my lip, trying to look seductive, figuring that I’d play with him for a bit. I advanced on him and pushed his shirt back, splaying my hands on his chest. I looked down at my fingers and began to move my hands downward, over his toned stomach. I reached his boxers, but instead of going straight down, I let my hands veer off to the sides and hook in the elastic band. He groaned again and I looked up at him, smiling, and I pressed a single kiss to his collarbone. He quickly grabbed my thigh and hoisted it around his hip, but I smirked teasingly at him and untangled myself from him, resorting to the bed, where I sat down, cross-legged, and batted my eyelashes at him innocently.

“You are the biggest tease I’ve ever met,” he said, sounding annoyed. I just giggled as he made his way into the washroom. “I know,” I said simply, “And Harry?” he turned back to me, squeezing the jeans in his hands. I grinned mischievously at him, “I can’t wait until you rip my dress off either.”

I could see him lick his lips, and at that exact moment, I wanted to jump into his arms, but something held me back. I wanted to see just how far I could push him. I raised my eyebrows at him, and gestured with my hand, “Run along now.”

“Tease,” he muttered, before turning away and slamming the bathroom door closed. I giggled and fell back onto the bed, but then quickly sat back up, not wanting to ruin my hair. Rolling onto my stomach, I reached for a picture on Harry’s nightstand. He was about five or so, sitting on the shoulders of a tall man. They were both smiling, and that made me smile, just looking at little Harry with his dimple as prominent as ever.

The picture had been taken during the day, and the frame was a bit lopsided. I smiled lightly, staring at the younger Harry, his green eyes sparkling, his short, straight brownish hair, nothing at all like it was now, unruly and sexily curly. I bit my lip, wondering why I’d never seen this man before

The washroom door opened, but I didn’t move. I could hear Harry’s footsteps coming closer, and a moment later, the bed dipped as he got on. I didn’t bother looking away from the photo. A second later, I felt Harry lowering his body onto me lightly, as if he didn’t want to hurt me. His knees planted onto the bed beside my waist and his hands pushed my ponytail out of the way as he kissed my neck. Forcing my eyes to stay open, I let the corners of my mouth tug up into a good-natured smirk.

“What are you doing?” Harry mumbled against my neck, evidently not seeing the photo yet. I tapped the glass on the picture with my nail, “Who’s this?”

Harry stopped kissing my neck for a second, and I immediately felt cold. I turned my head sideways, looking at him expectantly from the corner of my eye. His eyes turned hard for a moment, and he wrenched the picture from my hand, tossing it to the side. It landed at the edge of the bed. “No one,” Harry growled, flipping me onto my back and resuming kissing my neck. I cocked and eyebrow and pushed him away, grabbing his face and whispering, “Who is it Harry?”

“I said no one,” he snapped, and he continued to shower my throat with kisses. Surprised at his outburst, I lay limp and let him pepper me with little kisses and nibbles, not really wanting to start a fight. But then I realised that we were supposed to be honest with one another if this relationship was going to work. Gathering my courage, I pushed him away from me once again, and looked him in the eye, “Harry, tell me who that is…now.” He groaned and gave in.

“It’s—,” he began, but we were cut off by frantic knocks on the door. “Stop having sex!” came Gemma’s shrill cries from behind the door, and I mentally face palmed, feeling super-embarrassed, “We need to get to the party! Get your arses out here, now!”

“Fuck,” I mumbled, and then turned back to Harry, staring at him sternly, “We are not done this conversation, do you understand?” He chuckled, seeming the exact opposite of me: happy that Gem had interrupted. “Yes mum,” he teased, and I flicked his forehead once before wriggling out from under him. We exited the room together, and Gemma wiggled her eyebrows when she saw us walking into the living room.

“Come on, come on,” she ushered us outside, and I slipped on my pumps while Harry laced up a pair of Converse. Gemma practically forced us into her car, revving the engine. Harry and I sat in the back, our hands occasionally brushing. At one point during the ride, he leaned over to kiss my cheek, and I giggled quietly at him. Gemma made a loud, exasperated sound, and I looked over at her in the front seat, rolling her eyes, “Please don’t Harry,” she moaned.

“Fuck Gemma, it’s not like I’m screwing her in the back seat,” Harry said loudly, and I looked out the window, very aware of the blush that decorated my cheeks. Both Harry and Gemma laughed at my nervousness, and I stared daggers at Harry. “Careful,” I warned dramatically, “I know where you live.”

He chuckled and we continued the ride in silence.

Finally, Gemma pulled up to her friend Harmony’s house. My jaw dropped. The house was very big, streamers decorating the outside. I could hear music pumping through the house and Gemma looked back at me, grinning. “Harmony’s house has a pool, a game room, a dance floor, and a bar. Could you even ask for anything more?”

Gemma unbuckled her seatbelt and Harry and I followed. Being winter, it was already dark at nine at night, and lights streamed from inside the house. We walked into the front entrance and a pretty girl with cocoa skin came to greet us. “Hey, Gem, you made it!” she turned to Harry and I, “Harry! It’s nice to see you again!”

“You too, Harmony,” Harry said, smirking. Harmony then turned to me with her big brown eyes, “And you must be Isabelle. I’m Harmony. Can I get you guys anything to drink?” I shook my head, very aware of what had happened last time I’d drunk, “Oh, no thanks.”

Harry and Gemma, on the other hand, ordered a shot of vodka. Harmony led us through mad partygoers and to the bar, “Here ya go!” she gestured with her hands, “Make yourselves at home! I’ll see ya later!” she waved cutely and then disappeared into the crowd. I looked around, sitting down on a bar stool. Many people were sitting on couches, lounging around, or busting up moves on the dance floor. There was a lot of grinding and making out. Harry tapped my thigh, “Want to dance?” he asked over the loud music. I shrugged, “Maybe later.”

He nodded and then threw his thumb over his shoulder sheepishly, “Mind if I go say hi to somebody?”

I smiled and in response, pecked his lips lightly. “Harry, I’m not going to tie you down,” I told him earnestly, and then I slapped his arm, “Go have fun. I’m going to stay sober.”

He smirked and kissed me one last time before turning and disappearing into the crowd. I know that I should’ve been disappointed that he’d left, but that last kiss was reassuring. I knew that I could trust him.

Notes

YAAASSS!!! An update! Thanks so much for voting, commenting and subscribing guys, you all make my day whenever I see that I have another vote or another comment or subscriber, so thank you guys for that from the bottom of my heart!

PLEASE KEEP ON VOTING AND SUBSCRIBING AND COMMENTING! I literally cannot even express my thanks for everything so far.

That awkward moment when your dad just assumes that your best guy-friend is your boyfriend (and your guy-friend is there)...

I speak from experience -.-

So I have a really huge project to work on a and bunch of quizzes and tests to study for next week, so sadly, I won't be updating for a bit. I don't know how long it'll be, maybe a week to a week and a half, so I'm sorry! That's why I updated less than twenty-four hours apart, just to give you guys a little something! But bear with me! Thanks lovelies, and I'll update again as quickly as I can! Bye!