Isabelle's P.O.V

I pulled out Harry’s baggy Hipsta Plzzz t-shirt, relishing the fact that it smelled just like him. My eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and I smiled subconsciously, just swaying there, dressed in nothing but my underwear and bra. I had washed all of my makeup off, and I felt…rejuvenated and clean, I guess. Finally, I snapped out of it; Harry was waiting for me downstairs, so I’d had better go.

I pulled the top over my head. It fell just past my bum, and I made the same courageous decision to yet again expose myself by not shrugging on a pair of bottoms. I quickly raked my fingers through my hair, fluffing it up a bit, before turning away from my floor-length mirror and exiting my room tentatively.

“Isabelle?” Harry called out.

“Coming!” I answered.

I skipped down the steps and finally reached the bottom, turning around the corner to enter the kitchen. Harry was standing at the counter, his back to me, his feet and chest bare, only clad in sweatpants. They hung low on his hips, so low that I could see the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers peeking out. I bit my lip.

As if sensing my presence, Harry turned around. He was holding a small package of un-popped popcorn. The kernels rattled. His hair was still in its previous style, pushed back off of his forehead, so that I could see his eyes widen when they landed on me. They grew to the size of tennis balls, and he looked genuinely taken aback. I crossed my legs over one another self-consciously.

“You—,” he faltered, “You look so sexy in my clothes.”

“Thanks,” I blushed and looked down. He beckoned me to him and I joined him at the counter as he ripped open the package of popcorn with his teeth. Oh my God, he looked so sexy whilst doing that. He caught me staring and smirked, “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

I blushed even deeper, but thought of a comeback that was witty enough. “Why would I need the picture when I’ve got the real thing right here?” I gestured to him with my hands, “I can kiss the picture all I want, but it’s never going to kiss me back. I’ll never get to have sex with the picture.”

“Don’t tease me now,” Harry practically growled, opening the microwave and shoving the package inside. He pushed the buttons to set the time and pressed ‘Start’, turning towards me.

“What if I’m not?” I giggled, taking a step back. He stepped forward.

Eventually I caved in and wound my arms around his neck, my fingers playing with the curls on the nape of his neck. I leaned in and kissed him softly, smiling when he returned the gesture. When we pulled back, I grinned slyly at him, “See? Would you want just a picture?”

“I suppose not,” he chuckled and then kissed me again. He wrapped his arm around my waist and led me into the living room. “What movie are we watching?” I asked curiously. He shrugged but then grinned and me knowingly.

“How does The Notebook sound?” he asked slyly, and I squealed, jumping onto him. He laughed and wrapped his arms around my bum as my legs found a hold around his waist.

“I love you,” I told him earnestly, kissing him once before he set me down. He just chuckled and put the movie in. I snuggled up into the couch as I watched the muscles in his back contract and expand as he stood. I bit my lip again. He was so fucking hot.

He turned to me and slid onto the couch beside me, and I nestled my head into his chest as the movie began to play. His arm snaked around my hip and he kissed my hair, “I love you.” I sighed in response and he chuckled.

The movie had just begun to play when the microwave beeped from the kitchen, alerting us that the popcorn was ready. Harry groaned and was about to get up, but I beat him to it. “Let me,” I offered, pushing him down lightly by his bare shoulders. He smiled cheekily at me and I returned it as I sped off into the kitchen.

I hurriedly opened the microwave and pulled the now-popped package out by the corner, careful not to burn myself. I reached for the handle of a cupboard, opened it, and pulled out a large plastic bowl. The bag was hot in my hands as I ripped it open and began pouring the contents into the bowl.

Unfortunately, a rogue kernel bumped into my index finger. Wow, that was hot. “Jesus Christ!” I yelled out, snatching my hand back and shaking it.

“You called?” a deep voice said from behind me. I peeked over my shoulder and smiled as my gaze landed on Harry. But the pain in my hand still hurt like a son of a bitch.

“Quit smiling and get over here,” I snapped playfully. He held up his hands in mock-surrender and took the filled bowl from my hands, setting it on the counter. Then he took my right hand, and studied the small red burn on my index finger.

“I’ll make it better,” he said in a baby voice and kissed my finger softly. I giggled, “Usually that would help, but not this time. How about I run it under cold water?”

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully, “That would’ve been my second tactic.” I smirked at him and opened the sink, letting the freezing water cool down the burn. It felt a bit better.

“I appreciate the attempt though,” I smiled at him and he smirked back at me. Suddenly his eyes widened, “Oh, what’s this? I think you burned your lips too. I’d better take care of that.”

Before I could object, he kissed me softly. I giggled like a schoolgirl and shut the water off, winding my arms around his neck. We pulled back and I smiled, “I never get tired of that.”

He looked away and pink slowly crept onto his cheeks. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped, “Are you fucking blushing?” I shrieked, stepping back.

“What?” he asked, his hands flying to his cheeks and squishing his face together, “No, I’m not?” It came out as a question and I laughed loudly, “Shit, Harry, you’re actually blushing!”

I managed to pry his hands away from his face and marvelled at the pinkness of his cheeks.

“Wow,” I whispered, studying them like I’d just discovered a new species. Harry rolled his eyes and tried looking away, but I grabbed his face in my hands, preventing him from moving.

“This is so weird,” I said in awe, and Harry chuckled, staring into my eyes. I craned my neck from side to side, trying to observe his cheeks from all angles. Finally, when I figured that I’d soaked it in as much as I could, I giggled. Harry smirked too, finally finding the concept slightly humorous.

“Who would’ve thought?” I marvelled, pecking his lips lightly. He chuckled and grabbed the popcorn bowl, linking his arm through mine and guiding us back into the living room, where we stuffed our face with the buttery goodness, talked about random things, kissed from time to time, and snuggled, the movie practically forgotten.

***

Love is like an ocean. Sometimes it can be calm and gentle, flowing along to breezes that litter the sky, soft waves lapping onto the shore. Other times, it can be wild, dangerous and horrifying, stuck in the eye of a hurricane, while winds whip and battle wars around it, cold fronts meeting warms fronts and producing more and more stormy weather.

It can seem safe and tender, like looking at the bottom of a pool and jumping in, thinking that your feet will plant on the tiled floor in a matter of seconds. But it can be also be deceiving, realising that you had misjudged the depth and sinking to the ground like an anchor, drowning.

I didn’t know which description best suited the feelings between Harry and I. At times we were calm, beautiful, and safe, and in a matter of seconds we could wipe out an entire village, like a tsunami. Things were so confusing, and so hard to keep track of, and I hated not knowing what would happen next, not being in control of a situation.

But I also found it exciting and exhilarating, never knowing what to expect, with new surprises around every corner.

Why did love have to turn me into a bipolar person? Why is it such a mystery? Those questions will never be answered. Or maybe it wasn’t the feeling of love itself. After all, a feeling is nothing without the person that doesn’t initiate it.

Why did Harry have to turn me into a bipolar person? Why is he such a mystery?

***

“Isabelle?” I heard Harry whisper. My head was lying on his shoulder, his arm around me, both of us cuddled up on the couch. The movie had stopped playing a few minutes ago, and I was just really tired. Harry had let me lie down on him for a bit, but now I assumed that he was getting ready to go upstairs and go to sleep, so I opened my eyes dreamily.

“Hmm?” I murmured, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my face into his chest. He chuckled, the action vibrating my head, and I groaned.

“It’s time to go to sleep,” Harry whispered, still chuckling slightly. I groaned again and shook my head, “What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?” I rasped.

“Ooh, you’re cranky when you’re tired,” Harry snickered, but then a moment later, I felt myself being pulled up off the couch. I shrieked as Harry picked me up, bridal-style, and then began walking out of the living room. I felt his hand brush up against my bare leg, and tried to stifle a shudder, but it didn’t work.

“Are you cold?” Harry asked, his brow creasing with worry. I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his neck as he began climbing the steps. “No, of course not,” I said quietly.

“You were shivering,” he pointed out, now at the top of the stairs. I shook my head again,

“That was because of you,” I pointed out, giggling slightly. He cocked an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation.

“Don’t do that,” I scoffed, as he carried me into my room. The next few seconds were silent as he sat me down on my bed, helping me to pull the covers up over my body. He kneeled down beside me, stroking my cheek, “Do what?”

“Act like you don’t know why I was shivering,” I blushed as I just blurted the words out. Harry cracked a small smile, evidently already knowing why, and I smiled sheepishly at him, wanting nothing more than to kiss him.

“Well,” he pecked my forehead once, standing up, “Goodnight then.” What the actual fuck?
I was wide awake now. Why was he leaving? My mind was screaming at him to come back, but I was so shocked that I couldn’t form words. My mouth just wouldn’t work. All I could do was to watch him turn away, and slip out of my room without so much as another last glance.

Had I done something wrong? Why did I feel as though that gesture was oddly distant? My mind reeled, imagining the worst possible outcomes of this situation. He hadn’t said ‘I love you’, had he? I began to hyperventilate. Oh God. He hadn’t said ‘I love you’. What the hell was happening here?

I felt water pool in my eyes and run down my face shamelessly. What on earth? No, stop Isabelle, you’re making it out to be worse than it is. He just didn’t want to sleep with you tonight, and that’s all.

But why hadn’t he wanted to? I gulped quietly and turned away from my door, hugging my pillow.

I then cried myself to sleep.

Notes

Sorry to make you wait so long, but here's an update. Sorry if it sucked, I had a slight writer's block for a couple of days. Anywho, please comment, vote and subscribe! I feel as though I haven't been getting as much feedback on this story as I used to, so let me know what you think will happen, what you predict, etcetera.

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