Monday.

It's Monday and I have done absolutely nothing but sleep and eat. I've eaten about anything I could get my hands on. Pizza. Cake. Ice cream. Milkshakes. Tea. Coffee. I. Have. Eaten. Everything.
Harry laughs when he catches me. Says it's about time my appetite came back.

And it did. Full force.

"Are you sure you don't want any?"

"Not unless you want it all over you," Harry chuckles, raspy and loud. "Harry, I've eaten enough to be full forever."

"No you haven't," Harry argues adamant with crossed arms. "Come on baby. Just one bite."

"Nooooo," I bat Harry's hands away and I seriously hope I don't get any of the sticky ice cream on the bed because it's not my bed. Fuck, it's not even Harry's. It belongs to the rich bastards who own this hotel and I'm sure they won't appreciate us ruining their comforters with our food. "I know they said I have to eat more. But I don't think they meant for me to become morbidly obese."

"It's just a little ice cream, brown eyes. Let me feed you," Harry pouts.

"No," my stomach hurts from being full and I mean questioning whether I'll ever be able to eat again, full.
"Feed yourself and let me recover from the over dose of sugar and cake."

"Why are you stubborn? Is it because you're mine? Is it me?"

"I'm not stubborn." I'd rather ignore the 'mine' comment and focus on the simpler subject at hand.

"You are," Harry insists, swallowing his desert. "You frustrate me. You and your belly ring."

"I don't understand why my piercing interest you so much." Every time my piercing comes up Harry's eyes will glaze over and automatically roll down my torso-- he'll lift my shirt and just stare at it. It doesn't make sense. It's a meaning less piercing. A small metal bead and a shiny pink rock. It should not interest anyone this much.

"You really don't get it?"

"No," all I know is that it gets more attention than it really should. "You don't like it?"

"I fucking love it," Harry places the bowl of brown goo on the bedside table and crawls towards me. He hovers over me and pushes my shoulder down until I'm flat underneath him, as he straddles my hips and peers down at me. At this point, I'm almost positive my face is flushed and completely red and my heart is visibly beating. "I love the way it looks when you wear cropped shirts. I fucking love looking at it. The way it shines against your skin. I. Fucking. Love it."

"Oh," I gasp as his fingers reach down and fumble with it.

"It's gorgeous. You're gorgeous and mine. You knew you were mine and you got your piercing with another man. He held your hand and he probably kissed it better, didn't he?"

"I, um," I'm not sure if I should answer that. And if I do, should it be with the truth? "I don't-- what do you want me to say?"

"Did he kiss it?" Harry doesn't sound mad. He doesn't sound happy, but he doesn't sound mad.

"Why does that matter?"

"Because you're mine. He wants what's mine." Harry slides down like a snake and attaches his lips above my piercing. His hands grip my waist, keeping me still and dazed, "I don't like knowing, another man has had his lips on you. This is mine," Harry's teeth attack my skin gently as he begins marking a pattern. "This is fucking mine," Harry's tongue slides out and contributes to his claiming.

"Harry," I gasp, breathy and shaky, "t-this-- fuck," I don't feel how sore my skin is until Harry presses his tongue against it.

He slides back up, with a wide grin and sighs, "I feel better." He kisses me and presses his thumb against his bite.

"Harry," I hiss.

He looks up and smirks. "Do you get it now?"

"No," I admit. I really don't understand. Harry gets crazy when he thinks about my piercing because Jesse held my hand? Because he kissed it? It doesn't make sense and I may need him to spell it out for me. "To be honest, I'm a little distracted right now."

Harry thrusts his hips against mine and looks down, "believe me I know," Harry groans as I feel him against my lower half. He pulls away and leans down on his elbows. "I love your piercing, baby. I don't like that I wasn't the man who was there with you."

"It was a last minute decision, " I try. I was drunk and Jesse was getting a tattoo. There were needles there and someone to hold my hand. It was very convenient.

"That won't turn back time," Harry presses his lips against mine quickly, "I'm a jealous man." He shrugs.

"Can you get off me?"

"But darling, you used to love when I was on top," he wiggles his eyebrows and kisses my cheek. And while that's half-true, having Harry on top of me is distracting and ruins my train of thought.

"Harry," this whole thing just got very hypocritical. Why is Harry allowed to get so mad when he finds out Jesse and I had done something? He's engaged and it's not as if he's been celibate.

Harry flops down next to me and sits up as he eyes me critically, "you're mad," he says with a slight bop of his head.

I shake my head and pull my shirt down, "I'm not mad." In all honesty I don't know what I am. Half the time I'm running on no instruction. Like I'm blind. "But you are a hypocrite." Harry's head tilts as he reaches over and grabs my hand.

"And why do you say that?"

"Because," God, help me. Where do I start? I get up and begin to pace as my hands wave around. "Why should you be allowed to get upset when you find out Jesse and I have done something? So he was with me when I got my piercing? Why should you be allowed to be upset? You don't see me tattooing your dick with my name."

"I--," Harry looks down and sighs, "you were never the jealous type, Presley. It'd be a miracle if I saw you frown at a girl. But you were never jealous or angry." Harry stands and walks in front of me, putting my pacing to an end. "It's stupid that I get mad. I know it is. But I can't help it. I can't think straight when I picture you and him. I'm just fucking relieved the most you both did was kiss."

I can nod and leave it at that. We can recover the moment and enjoy the rest of Monday. We can go on with our week and it'll be perfect and Harry won't know anything. And that route appeals greatly to me. Having Harry think one thing because it's so much easier.

And if I did that I'd be lying to Harry.

"What do you think Jesse and I did, exactly?" Maybe it's not as bad as I'm thinking. Maybe-- maybe I'm just an unlucky person with the ability to cause more damage than a hurricane.

"Why are you asking me that?" Harry's face hardens and his jaw clenches as his fingers tighten around my mine. "Am I missing something?"

"Don't you remember El's birthday? The bathroom?"

"I remember you sitting on top of that git," Harry scowls, "and you leaving with him. Why?"

I was stupid to think Harry and I would have a trouble free week. I was delusional to think this would be easy.

"Jesse said--"

"You've done more than just touch," Harry finishes for me. "Can you just say what I'm missing?"
The blood drains from my head and my chest constricts. "You're really going to make me say it?"

"Say what?" Harry snaps.

Like a bandaid. A sticky and gross bandaid. "Jesse and I have had sex, Harry. We've--"

"Shut up," Harry laughs the kind of laugh that scares the people around him. Once he's quiet he looks at me again. "No you-- you wouldn't," Harry's eyes are wide with fear. He looks like a scared little boy who wants to be protected from His nightmare. "You-- Presley please tell me you haven't slept with another ma--" his voice trails off when I don't correct him. It's too late to take it back anyways. "You have." Harry swallows.

"Yes," I whisper.

"How many times?"

"What?"

"How many times?" Now Harry looks mad. He's upset and he doesn't have a right to act like I've wronged him. I didn't do anything. He was gone by then.

"I don't know," it was three times. Two of those times I was drunk off my face and the last time I had tried to be coherent. Jesse and I were dating back then and it wasn't fair that I was a drunk fuck when he was evidentially trying.

"That many?" There's an angry tone to his voice. The same one he always used, up until he left.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You've slept with another man!"

"He was my boyfriend!"

"Your--" Harry backs away abruptly and angrily runs his fingers through his hair. "I have to-- fuck, I need to get out of here."

"Why are you being this way?! You've slept with Jasmine! Why am I such a bad person for having sex with my boyfriend at the time?!" This all seems so familiar. The way Harry's eyes are hard and furious. The way his fist are clenched together tightly. The way he wants to leave. It's laughable.
Ridiculous, really.

"I'm so-- I'm...I have to go," Harry stutters, putting his shoes on and grabbing his things. My throat tightens with every step he takes towards the door. My head hurts and my heart doesn't understand what's happening. All I can focus on is Harry leaving and I'm suddenly back to that same night.

"You said six days," I croak as my eyes grow moist. "Six fucking days and the first one hasn't even finished yet." I furiously wipe my cheek.

"I don't...Presley--"

"Six days," I need the tears to stop. I need these feelings to go away. I can't do this again and it looks like I'm about to.

Harry doesn't say anything. He doesn't try and respond. He takes one last look at me and steps out.

It's Monday and the day started with me eating everything. It's still Monday and it's ending with me feeling desperate and stupid.

Notes

I don't want to write anymore. I'm sorry sponge cakes. /).(\ I wish you all lovely days. Xx