Blue

Harry walked next to me, his pace matched perfectly to mine, down the hallway to my room, Room 1526. I wanted to sprint. My brain was a jumble of panicked flashes; like when the dashboard warning lights on my Cavalier all started flashing at once. Only this wasn’t oil changes or busted fuel pump, this was: fuck, did I leave dirty underwear on my bed? How much makeup and toothpaste and floss and contact lens solution and zit cream is strewn about the bathroom? What if my feet smell? Thank God I shaved this morning. What happened to that penis shaped straw from the bachelorette party?

I nearly dropped my room key when he trailed his fingers across the small of my back. Keep it together, Delany. Jesus. Once the light flashed green, I pushed the door open and motioned him inside. “If there’s anything humiliating on the floor, just step over it. The bachelorette party was last night and someone dropped a box of penis shaped pasta on the floor. For the record, I was not that someone.”

“My attention isn’t on the room, love.”

I hung the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the doorknob and then shut the door, locking all the locks in place. When I turned around, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on me. He smiled that seductive, lopsided grin again. “Take your clothes off for me.”

“Do you still want that scavenger hunt?”

His smiled broadened, his dimples deepening in his cheeks. “I do, baby girl.”

I reached backwards and unzipped my dress, letting it slide from my hips to the floor. Slowly, I turned in a circle, giving him time to take in my tattoos: the ribbons on the backs of my upper thighs, the corset cording on my back; I lifted my hair up to show off the yellow sunflower on my neck, in the style of Van Gogh. I let my hair down and turned so he could see the fleur de lis on my side (next to my breast); then the other side, so he could see the pink, orange, and yellow watercolor phoenix reaching from my hip to my other breast.

I glanced at him, his eyes were wide. “Your body is phenomenal.” He reached out his hands to me and beckoned me to him. “Come here.”

As I stood in front of him, he ran his hands down my hips and pulled me closer to him. He pressed his lips to the stud pierced at the hollows by each of my hips. He then kissed is way up to my belly button ring, flicking his tongue against the bolt through my skin. He pulled back and gazed up at me, his voice deliciously raspy. “You have me so hard.”

“Foreplay is over rated.” I sank down onto his lap and straddled him, unbuttoning the last few buttons of his shirt. Sliding it off his shoulders, I ran my fingers down his chest. His chest and right arm were heavily tattooed, a myriad of designs and symbols. I wanted to know about all of them, what they all meant and why he’d picked them, but I could feel his bulge in his tight pants pressing against my thighs. I wanted that too.

He reached around me and unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the floor, and pressed his lips to my throat. His fingertips grazed my nipples as he cupped my breasts, trailing his mouth down my chest. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands; as a last resort, I tangled them into his hair and guided his head closer to my breasts. His mouth was hot on my skin, his tongue flicking circles around my nipples. It was slowly driving me out of my mind: his teething grazing and gently nibbling on one nipple while his hand worked the other between his index and thumb. His other hand was wrapped around my waist, pressing me against him. Every movement, every flick of his tongue was turning me on; he was grinding his hips forward and pressing his erection between my legs. Jesus, if he felt this good now…

“You need to fuck me,” I felt breathless, “because you are driving me crazy.”

He chuckled and flipped me onto my back, crushing his mouth to mine. “Oh, I will, baby girl. You’re gonna scream my name.”

He slid to his feet and started fumbling with his belt, shoving the tight fabric down his slim hips. I nearly choked; Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he was chiseled like a damn Renascence sculpture. His v-lines were deep, prompting my eyes down further to his erection. My breath caught in my throat. He caught me staring at him and stumbled forward, tugging his pants further down his legs. “What?”

“Just…you. You’re built and I didn’t expect that.”

“I work out because I eat very, very poorly.” He sank down onto the bench at the foot of the bed. “Bear with me, love, my trousers are stuck on my boots. This is humiliating.”

I laughed, wiggling out of my panties and tossing them to the floor. “Just waiting on you…I guess I could start by myself…”

“Naughty girl.” He unfastened his boots and kicked them off, yanking his pants and briefs over his feet and to the floor. “Maybe I should spank you.”

“If you want.” I giggled and scrambled backwards against the pillows.

He was right behind me, crawling across the bed on his knees, and eased down on top of me. With one hand, he adjusted himself against me and with the other, he cradled my face. As he entered me with one firm thrust of his hips, he kissed me. I moaned in my throat without breaking our kiss. He felt amazing; his rhythm was slow, tantalizing and maddening at the same time. It felt like he was touching me in places no one had ever hit, deeper and at an angle that was going to push me over the edge—fast.

I felt the kiss of his eyelashes and he opened his eyes; I opened mine and looked into the wide green irises. He whispered against my lips, “Do you like that?”

I nodded, my breath caught in my throat. “Do you?”

He nodded frantically, sucking his lip into his mouth and biting on it. “You’re gonna make me cum fast, Laney baby.”

I wrapped my legs around him, anchoring myself in place by crossing my ankles. His eyes fluttered and he groaned, dropping his hand from my cheek to my hip. “Fuck, that’s amazing. Don’t do that.”

I reached up and trailed my fingers down his jawline, guiding his lips back to mine. “I was a gymnast when I was younger. You should see the things I can do.”

He sucked in a deep breath, kissing my mouth and cheeks softly. “I want to…but fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer. You feel incredible—you are incredible.”

He hooked his hand underneath my knee and pushed it forward towards my shoulder. My eyes widened, but I kept my gaze locked on his. “Harry….don’t start things you aren’t willing to finish now.”

“Cum for me first.” He urged my leg up higher and guided it over his shoulder. His hand dropped to my lower abdomen and flicked over my hip studs before sliding further down. His thumb circled my clit, pressing harder each time he thrusted deeper inside me.

I clapped my hand over my mouth, biting back a moan of pleasure. His touch had me so close, his rhythm pushing me further and further. The delicious tingles of ecstasy, plunged down my lower abdomen, gathering and building between my legs. “Harry,” I gasped out, “I’m—“

He felt my body respond before I even got the words out. His brows furrowed and his jaw dropped open; I could feel his rhythm change. “Laney…Laney, I wanna finish inside. Please.”

I nodded frantically. He hugged my leg to him, pressing his mouth to my kneecap and fucked me harder, deeper; I could feel myself heading to edge again, something about the way his hips ground against mine and the angle he was holding my leg. Every nerve in my body felt alive; the way he held me, the way he made love to me; I felt like I was sailing the stars.

“Laney…” He let go of my leg and eased down on top of me, pressing his face to the hollow created by my shoulder arching into my neck. His thrusts were hard and deep and then, after a beat, his body shuddered. I could feel him inside me, the twitches and spasms of his release drive me over the edge again. I squeezed my eyes shut and tangled my fingers in his hair. Jesus.

He laid still for a moment, his hand cupped at the curve of my waist. Rising up on his elbow, he brushed loose hair out of my eyes and gently kissed me. “You’re amazing.”

“I think you deserve most of the credit.”

He cradled my face in his hands and gazed into my eyes, his breathing still rapid. “What would you say…to a relaxing bath?”

“I’d say you can read my mind.” He led the way into the bathroom and started the bathwater while I quickly cleaned up—the one downside to hot sex is, in my opinion, the need to clean up prior to cleaning up. There’s little romance in cum everywhere, thank you very much.

The hot tub bathtub was large enough for both of us to both stretch out, but he pulled me to him, draping his arm over my shoulders and kissing my temple. “After that, I really don’t want this to be a one night stand. How long are you in Los Angeles?”

“Only until tomorrow. My flight is at one.”

He was quiet for a moment, trailing his fingers down my shoulder. “You should stay longer.”

“I can’t afford to stay here longer—this hotel room cost me two paychecks. Not to mention the plane ticket cost. How quickly the new and extravagant Mrs. Miles forgets the rest of us are just poor college bums?”

Well, that was awkward. Truth was usually ugly, but that seemed more like a swift kick to the mouth.

“What’s your family like?”

“Different, just like me.” I caught his free hand in mine, idly trailing my fingertips down the cross tattoo by his thumb. “My parents died when I was a kid so I grew up with my aunt and uncle.”

He was silent for a moment, stroking my arm with his fingertips. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It helped make me who I am. I was only four when it happened; the only thing I remember is walking home from school—things were different then than they are now—and sitting on my front steps because the door was locked. I sat there for hours. I have this memory of feeling abandoned, that’s the part that sticks with me the most. And then, I remember a cop showing up and taking me to my aunt and uncle’s house. After a year of not finding my parents, everyone assumed they’d abandoned me and my aunt and uncle adopted me. They didn’t find their bodies until I was about eight. There had been car accident and the car flipped and sank to the bottom of a river.” I shrugged. I felt like I was talking about someone else’s past and not my own; I was so far removed from what happened, it didn’t really faze me anymore. “And life went on.”

His eyes were serious, his brows knitted in a deep frown. “How was your childhood?”

“My uncle was a big shot attorney in Richmond—he passed away about six years ago—so I guess my childhood was as happy as it would have been for anyone in that situation. I grew up with three brothers and two sisters. But, I mean, I never really fit in. So, when I turned eighteen, I went off to school on my own. I work at a behavioral health clinic in art therapy and I have student loans and rent and all that shit. I don’t expect my aunt to continue to take a care of me. She watched out for me for fourteen years and I think that was plenty more than was expected of her.”

He was still quiet, which made me feel more awkward than my rambling life story made me feel. Finally, he said, “What exactly is art therapy?”

“We use art to help kids or have behavioral health challenges or issues working through grief. Painting, drawing, pottery; that kind of them.” I smiled sheepishly. “We’re all broken in some way, Harry. Art is just what pieces some people back together.”

He raised his hand to my cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “You’re an amazing person, Laney.”

“I’m just me.”

“I like you quite a lot, actually.” I smiled at him and he smiled back, a genuine, beautiful smile that dimpled his cheeks and lit up his eyes. This was a different smile than when I first met him (which, granted, was less than an hour ago) and seemed like his real smile. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t fake. It was him. And him, that real him, I found I liked very, very much.

“Tell me about your family.” I prompted, turning my attention to the tattoos on his arm. “What’s your family like?”

“My mum married young and divorced my dad young. I’ve always had a close relationship with her and I really think the world of her. She’s amazing. I’m close with my dad and my stepdad, less now than I used to be, but I’m still close with my older sister. She’s my best friend.”

“How long have you been doing this for?” I abruptly stopped and motioned around the bathtub. “Not this, obviously, but the music. The music thing. Whatever you want me to call it.”

“One Direction. You’re allowed to say it, love, it doesn’t bother me.”

“This One Direction thing.” I ran my fingers over a mermaid tattoo on his forearm. “I remember seeing you on television in 2012 for the London Olympics ceremony but I’ll be honest, I turned in for the ‘London’ and ‘Olympics’ part of it. I’m an Olympics junkie, literally, I will watch any sport out there if it’s peddled to me as an Olympic Sport. I put my computer in the trunk of my car so I didn’t accidentally spoil prime time coverage; God damned time difference.”

He started laughing. I immediately loved his laugh, a bold ‘ha ha ha’ that made him pitch forward slightly. He brushed his hair back from his face and then put his arm back in my grasp. “We lost X-Factor in 2010.”

“There’s a lot to be said for trying, obviously.”

“The fans made us who we are.” He studied me. “Although, I will say, it’s somewhat refreshing to be with someone who doesn’t like me just because I’m a singer.”

“If I said I like you for your body, will you think less of me?” I tried to look serious and then burst out laughing. “But really, your body is amazing. I need to say it out loud or else I’m going to blurt it out at an inappropriate time, say, when I’m visiting my grandmother at the nursing home. ‘Pass the peas, Gramma, and oh, by the way, I’ve never seen a better abs/v-line/cock trifecta like on Harry Styles.”

He laughed again, pulling me up onto his lap. “Is that a fact?”

“I’m not a connoisseur of cocks, by any means, but I’ve seen my fair share and I like yours the best. Maybe it’s the close proximity of your tattoos or how sculpted your abs are…” I realized I was babbling like an idiot. “But…um…what are we talking about?”

“How you aren’t keen on pop music.” He hesitated, tilting my chin down so he could look into my eyes. “Why did you have sex with me?”

Uhhh….it was an abrupt question; it completely caught me off guard. Most guys don’t have these kinds of questions right after sex, but then—as I’d thought earlier—most guys weren’t Harry Styles. There was a look in his eyes that made me feel like this was the most serious question he’d ask me; as if this was the one that meant the most.

I barely even blinked, keeping my gaze locked with his. “Because you’re hot. I like your dimples and I like your personality. And, honestly, I really, really dig the way you kiss.” I thought for a moment, giving myself time to choose my words carefully. “But…I think…the biggest reason is because I feel this insane attraction to you. The way you talk, the way you make me feel. I wanted to be with you.”

He smiled at me again, that dazzling, dimple punctuated grin that made me weak. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Same question.”

“Truthfully?” He cheeks turned red. “At first, I just wanted to get laid. Your amazing body, your incredible legs; that smile…but then we started talking. You’re different than other women. The pickup lines didn’t work on you and, for the first time, I felt like I was just Harry. I wasn’t One Direction. I wasn’t a hookup. I was just Haz, from Cheshire. You liked me for me. And it made me want you more.”

“And now?”

“And now I want to keep you.”

I grinned at him. “Same here.”

We finished up in the tub and dried off, returning to the bed and pulling the covers back. I glanced at the clock; it was nearly one am. I didn’t feel the least bit tired. “Soo…you want to stay over? I mean, you don’t have to but…I want you to stay.”

“And I want to stay.” He crawled in bed and flopped back against the pillows. “As long as you don’t mind me staying naked.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on getting dressed so, you know. It’s totally your call.” I snuggled down beside him. “But I’d rather stay naked.”

“It’s the way to go, in my opinion.”

We started chatting about nothing of consequence: cookies, elementary school teachers, sneaking into movie theaters, cats, bad jokes, dirty jokes, and played a very, very extended game of word association that left us both gasping for breath from laughing so hard. The more we talked, the more I found myself falling for him. He kept trying to make me laugh, that much was obvious, and when he succeeded (which was every time), he literally beamed. He never once looked at the clock; never once picked up his phone to check his email, texts, or internet. His attention was locked on me, his hand resting comfortably on my thigh like we’d been together for years instead of hours.

I caught myself. We weren’t actually together. We’d had sex, yeah, and he was spending the night…but I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. And I was too petrified to ask.

Around three-thirty in four in the morning, he rolled towards me, tucking strands of my blue hair behind my ears. “I don’t want you to leave tomorrow.”

“Neither do I.”

“So stay.”

“I wish I could stay, but I literally can’t afford to stay in the Ritz-Carlton for the night I’m staying here. And I can’t lose out on the money I paid for my airline ticket. That’s like, five hundred bucks I should have been putting towards books next semester.” I could feel tears pricking the backs of my eyes, which was first off, horrifying, and second, frustrating. These were obviously not the kind of problems he had to deal with. I was a broke college kid. He was…

He was a guy I was completely falling for and I didn’t want to disappoint him.

But he didn’t look disappointed. He looked intense again, tracing his fingers over my phoenix tattoo. “You can stay with me. And I’ll pay for your flight home, whenever you decide to go. And, before you say I don’t have to do that, I’m going to tell you that I want to do it. I want you to stay with me.”

I felt my cheeks turn red. I’d blushed more in the hours with Harry than I’d blushed in years; this boy made me feel like a princess. He made me feel special. And it left me speechless. “Okay.”

He smiled broadly, his tongue poking out between his teeth. “Really?”

“I like you,” I hesitated, taking a deep breath, “a lot. I don’t want this to end.”

He kissed me, holding my face gently in his hands, his fingertips pressing into my temples with just the slightest amount of pressure. I kissed him back; I felt like I was standing at a precipice, at this border between what I knew I should do (go home and get my ass back to work) and what I wanted to do (Harry). It was safe to stay on the precipice, staring down into the fog of what could be.

And as I laid there in his arms, I knew without a doubt, I was ready to jump.

Notes