Isabelle’s P.O.V

January 20th

It had been two days.

Two freaking days since Harry’s little outburst, since the first proposal of the bet. After that morning that I’d completely isolated myself in his bedroom, not coming out for the rest of the day, simply crying into the pillows that smelled so much like him, and then having the scent of him sending me into another spiralling tunnel of sadness.

I hated when I was like this, dammit.

We hadn’t spoken much. The only things that came out of our mouths were only the essentials, like “Are you hungry?” or “I’m going out.”

Neither of us had actually been out of the house though. Harry walked around in sweatpants, and I simply wore an overlarge t-shirt with panties, something that—I’d unfortunately noticed—smelled like him as well. Fuck, my life was so dramatic.

I’d also realised that his birthday was coming up. I had no idea what to get him, and I prayed to God that we wouldn’t be stuck in this phase by the time February 1st rolled around. It was his twentieth birthday, and I had to make it special, but I’d had no idea how.

I just wanted one of us to give in and lose the bet already, so that we could go back to being normal. Although I knew that after this, my definition of normal had well beyond passed the ‘basic’ level. I also didn’t want to be the one to lose the bet, knowing that I couldn’t show him that I was nothing without him.

Which I was.

I was sprawled out on his bed, simply taking long, deep breaths and letting the smell of cinnamon fill my nostrils. It had become fainter; Harry had been sleeping on the couch while I’d occupied his bed. I wish that I could say that I felt bad, but I really didn’t.

Suddenly, there was a series of soft knocks on the door. The knocker didn’t wait for a response, but rather opened the door a smidge, and I sat up groggily, my gaze landing on Harry’s beautiful, vibrant green eyes. It took everything I had not to start crying again.

I knew that I looked like a mess. It seemed as though my eyes were constantly red and swollen, my cheeks slightly puffy, and my hair was full of flyaways.

Harry had always told me that even when I looked my worst, he was still in awe of my supposed ‘beauty’. I definitely hoped that applied in this case. I didn’t want him to become repulsed.

“Hey,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, stepping inside, leaving the door slightly ajar.

He held his hands behind his back and looked down, shuffling his feet, giving me the perfect opportunity to take him all in. He was only wearing sweatpants. They hung low on his hips, allowing me to see the faint trail of hair that ran from his navel and disappeared past the waistband. My eyes raked up his well-defined chest, and landed on his face. He still looked so handsome, but it wasn’t his same bubbly, cheeky self.

“Um,” he said quietly, and I sat up straighter, very away that I was only in his baggy Ramones t-shirt and black panties. I nervously tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear, my ponytail not doing its job of leaving my face free for tears.

“Hi,” I breathed, looking away, suddenly quite intrigued with my nails.

I picked at them as Harry spoke, “Do you—maybe—want to watch a movie?”

My head snapped up, my hand falling into my lap. I couldn’t stop my jaw from doing the same. He hadn’t really asked me if I’d wanted to do anything since two days ago. I bit my lip; this was a start, wasn’t it?

“Um,” I mumbled, wanting so badly to look into his eyes and give him a straight answer, but I refrained from doing so, “Whatever.”

He sighed and took a step closer, and before I knew it, I had done something terrible. It had been such a small action, yet capable of so much destruction. It had simply been a reflex, but as soon as it had come to pass, he froze, his jaw hanging, his clenched fists loosening.

“I—,” I tried to say, but I couldn’t find the right words. He raked his hands through his hair, still in a disbelieving state.

Fuck, what had I done?

“I’m going to go,” he whispered, his eyes wide.

I scrambled to get up, throwing the covers of the bed away from my body, “No—Harry wait—listen,” I tried to speak, but he just shook his head, closing his eyes momentarily before they flashed open again.

I stepped closer to him, so that we were only a foot apart, gazing at each other longingly, waiting for the other to make a move.

Finally, after what seemed like a millennia, his arm extended to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. I stared up at him, chewing on my bottom lip nervously.

“We’ll um,” he cleared his throat, “Watch a movie some other time.”

He nodded, so that it seemed as though he was talking more to himself than to me, and a soft protesting noise emitted from my throat. I don’t know if he heard it or not, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He simply nodded curtly to me and turned away, slipping out of my room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

I watched him go, speechless, my mouth moving but releasing no words. When I heard the faint sound of a door closing down the hall the tears took over yet again.

I screamed—frustrated—and fell back onto my bed, scrambling up to the top where I clutched at his pillow desperately, muffling my loud and strangled sobs.

God, I was so stupid.

I had ruined what could have been the start of our truce. By that one fucking reflex that I possessed, something that I immediately wished that I could’ve taken back, but it was too late, he’d already seen. He’d seen it and there was no denying that it had hurt him, it had delivered a blow to the most intimate part of his mind: his thoughts about himself. He probably thought he’d hurt me now. Of course, he had, but I don’t know why I had let it seep through. What the hell had I done?

Fuck, I knew what I’d done.

I had flinched.

***
January 22nd

“What do you think about this one?” Eleanor questioned, her fingers working furiously to type and click. Every time her fingertips made contact with the keyboard, I flinched for some vast, unknown reason.

We were at my house, deciding to surf the internet to find baby clothing. Of course, El was only a few weeks along, so we didn’t know the gender of the baby, but we were just exploring our options. Eleanor had opted to explain the whole situation to Louis later on today, and we were currently waiting for him and Harry to get back from the recording studio.

“Earth to Isabelle?” El snapped her fingers in front of my face.

I shook my head free of worrying thoughts about Harry and sighed, “Sorry.”

She giggled, “It’s okay.” Then she turned back to the website, clicking on a link that immediately transferred us to another page, filled with photos of cute baby clothing, their price and their size.

We’d decided to opt for the website, not really wanting the paparazzi to snap photos of us browsing through an infant’s store, and starting up and suspicions.

“That one’s cute,” I pointed to a small blue onesie covered with white stars, “For a boy, I mean.”

Eleanor gazed at the cute little pajama—a matching hat included—and smiled faintly, “It is pretty cute.”

She suddenly sighed and snapped the laptop shut, surprising me lightly as she fell backwards onto the couch.

“God,” she mumbled, “I still don’t have any naming ideas. Want to help me?”

I giggled, “Won’t that be Louis’ job?” The corners of her mouth curved up into a small smile, and she got a far-away look in her eyes, probably daydreaming. It was my turn to snap my fingers in front of her face.

“Earth to El?” I giggled, and she broke out of her trace, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry,” she murmured, “I’m just excited. And nervous. So, so nervous.”

“Don’t worry,” I waved away her insecurities, “You’ll be a great mother, El. And Louis will be an excellent dad. Plus,” I added, “You still have about eight and a half months until this baby is due, so that gives you plenty of prepping time.”

“It feels like an extreme exam,” she sighed again, bringing her hand to her forehead.

I nodded solemnly, “And this is one that you can’t screw up. But hey,” I nudged her, “You’re intelligent, and beautiful, and so sweet. And you know, maybe this is what you and Louis need, to—how do I say this?—bring things to a whole other level. You know?”

I hoped that that didn’t sound as terrible as I thought it sounded.

But Eleanor laughed, “I know,” she said, and then, at that moment, the front doorbell rang.

“Oh,” I said, standing up, “That’s them. I’ll get it.”

I walked out of the living room and into the main entrance, fumbling with the door before swinging it open. Louis greeted me with a wide grin, which I happily returned. My smile faltered slightly once he passed by me—pressing a kiss to my cheek whilst doing so—and I caught sight of Harry.

His eyes were somber, his mouth pressed into a small scowl, and he stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground. Louis was already inside, greeting Eleanor, leaving us alone. Desperate to do something, I stepped aside, letting him come in.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, not meeting my eyes. I simply nodded, watching him as he removed his shoes and set them on the carpet. Ever since that morning where I’d flinched, he’d been avoiding me, and we’d refrained from being in the same room together. We’d even gone to the extent where Eleanor had picked me up from Harry’s flat, and Louis and Harry had sped off straight to the recording studio.

“Um,” I gnawed on my bottom lip, suddenly self-conscious. I was dressed in a dark green knit-sweater with a white camisole underneath, and light blue skinny jeans. My hair was tied in a low, messy bun, with a few strands falling out near the front. Harry wore his usual attire, black skinny jeans, but this time, he wore a white t-shirt with a pastel blue flannel shirt—unbuttoned, might I add—over it.

“We’re in the living room,” I said quietly, and he nodded. My hand twitched at my side, no doubt reaching for his, but I refrained. We both stared down at my hand in shock, and I bit the inside of my cheek, not knowing what to say.

“Let’s go,” Harry finally saved me, and we walked down the hall, towards the living room while keeping a respectable distance between us.

Once, our shoulders brushed, and I felt an electric shock run through my body. I desperately tried to convince myself that it had only been the result of the clothing we wore. Hopefully.

El and Louis were cuddled up on the sofa, her head nestled in the crook of his neck, and I smiled faintly when my gaze landed on them. Then I frowned. The only spot was the other couch—the loveseat, which only sat two people—and Harry and I would both have to sit beside each other.

I mentally sighed—if we couldn’t stand a simple five-minute car ride together, how would we do this?

We both sat down across from them, and I tried to make myself as compact as possible, trying to get as far away from the beautiful man beside me. Louis noticed and narrowed his eyes, but I just shrugged, signalling that I’d tell him later.

For the rest of the hour, the group made small talk. It was very awkward, since Harry and I usually conversed and started most of the conversations, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen today.

Eventually, I gave Eleanor a long, meaningful look, and she hesitated but nodded curtly. I was happy that she was finally going to tell Louis, he deserved to know, but I also thought that he’d be absolutely ecstatic at the thought of the news. I just desperately hoped that I was right, since I’d sounded so sure to El about it.

“Louis,” El said suddenly, standing up and gripping his hand, “Come with me. I need to tell you something.”

“Okay,” Louis whined playfully, letting her grab his hand, and when she turned away to lead him out of the room, he shot us a look over his shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows in some sort of perverted gesture.

I giggled, but tried to cut it off abruptly when I heard Harry chuckle lowly beside me. It was stupid, but I didn’t want anything we did to mirror the other, or to synchronize.

There was a beat of silence. Finally, Harry shifted, and when I peeked from the corner of my eye, he was staring intently at me, “Why did you stop laughing?” he asked quietly, his voice raspy and sexy, “You have a beautiful laugh.”

I scooted a bit farther away from him on the couch, “Um…thanks.”

I looked down, playing with my bracelet. I don’t know why I hadn’t taken it off.

He seemed to notice this tiny action, and a look of pain flashed across his face for a moment, and I almost wished I could take it back. Almost.

I yawned lightly, bringing my hand up to stifle it. However, he noticed that too, and looked concerned.

“You’re tired?” he asked, the space between his eyebrows creasing lightly. I shook my head but then yawned again, mentally cursing my lack of oxygenated brain.Harry pursed his lips lightly, eventually holding out his right arm, causing my eyes to widen.

“C’mere,” he said softly, gazing at me with his bright, innocent-seeming eyes, though I knew that they were the furthest thing from innocent.

I hesitated but then shook my head, “I’m fine, thanks.”

He clenched his jaw, moving closer, “No you’re fucking not. You’re tired. You’re broken; you’re finished, you’re unhappy. I fucking caused that Isabelle, so please, just come here and lie down.”

I was a bit taken aback, my mouth propping open lightly. For a moment, I wondered if that had really just happened, but then realised that it did. How did he have the ability to read me like that? I really needed to work on masking my emotions. I just sat there, not knowing what to say, until my body finally stopped listening to my brain and gave in to my heart.

“O-okay,” I mumbled, crawling over closer to him, the smell of cinnamon radiating off of his body getting stronger and stronger as I did so.

Eventually I reached him, and he kept his arm extended for me. I tentatively lay my head down in his lap, feeling him stiffen lightly but then relax as he sighed and used his fingertips to brush hair away from my face.

I closed my eyes, relishing the feel of his hands braiding through my hair, stroking my head softly, making me feel relaxed. I really was tired; I’d just wanted to downplay it so that he wouldn’t insist on anything and so that we wouldn’t end up in this exact position. Well, that worked out so well.

I had missed this. I had missed feeling this close with him, not speaking but knowing that the other was enjoying it just as much. I wasn’t ready to lose this bet yet, or to even forgive Harry. I hadn’t meant what I’d said about slowing down, but I didn’t want to admit that to him, because I was afraid to look vulnerable. I fucking hated it.

I just wanted to stay here for the rest of my life, curled up in this exact position, his fingers threading through my hair, feeling his toned stomach move back and forth as he breathed deeply. I tried to stop the smallest of smiles from forming on my face, but Harry just had that effect on me. I wasn’t facing him, which I was grateful for, or I probably would’ve blushed a deep shade of pink.

“What are we doing, Belle?” he asked softly, his fingers never failing to brush my hair away. I would have answered him, but I couldn’t force my lips to move to form a sentence.

I fell asleep listening to Louis’ whoops and screams of excitement.

Notes

So there are a few things I need to ask/tell you guys :)

1. Thank you again for everything! Just putting that out there. I'm appreciative of all the votes, comments and subscriptions I've received. I will never be able to tell you guys how much that means to me.

2. Go check out my other story, Plunge!
http://www.harrystylesfanfiction.com/Story/47786/Plunge/

3. Guys! All for the Press only has another 5 chapters to go! Then we're finished :( I honestly can't believe it, and the thought of this story ending makes me so sad :'( Could all my subscribers vote? I want to make it to at least 250 votes before this story ends, and I hope that we can reach 300 even after it's finished.

4. I'm going camping for the weekend, so I won't be able to update until Tuesday or something. Sowwy :(

VOTE! COMMENT! SUBSCRIBE! Since the story will be ending shortly, can you all please comment your favourite parts? It would mean a lot, and I would know what my readers would like to see more of in the future. Thank you :)

~I love you guys so, so much~