Illicit [Harry Styles]

Chapter 47

Harry wasn't one to broadcast how he feels. I'm not even sure he, himself, understands how to deal with emotions. I thought about whether it could be because he'd experienced something that made him feel he had to block out his feelings as a defence mechanism, or whether it was just his ego telling him that's what he had to do to obtain and keep this image he has going on. Sometimes it was easy to fall into this state where I was worried and wondering what it was he actually felt — not just about me, about everything.

He's getting better at loosening up when it's just the two of us, he hasn't said anything nasty on impulse to me for a while, but still when we're with other people or out in public it feels like he's distant and almost as if he doesn't want anyone to know he's involved with me in whatever way. I tried not to think about it though, understanding that he finds it difficult, and just focused on the way he treats me when we're alone.

When we're alone I see this other side to him. Whereas most people would be afraid to try and get Harry to open up in case he snapped and just accepted that was somewhere you don't go with someone like him, I was intrigued. Don't get me wrong, sometimes he frightens me and I get nervous that he's going to explode at a simple question, but the thought of delving deep within his mind and pulling things out to help me understand him overpowered the fear and made it worthwhile. I like to think that the fact that I can go there with him means something — I guess I like to think that there's something he sees in me that he doesn't see in anyone else. Otherwise why would he trust me the way he does?

From the outside, no one sees the Harry that I see when no one else is around. He can be caring, respectful, he's extremely protective in that he can't bear the idea of me being in danger, he's passionate, funny, intelligent. I know things about him that he hides from other people, things that make you think better of him. I just couldn't help but want to know what he thought about me.

On Thursday afternoon, five days after the get together at his house, I walked home from sixth form at one in the afternoon and found myself laying across the sofa with the TV on. Niall was upstairs with another one of his friends — I knew because I could hear shouting and sound effects from whatever game they were playing — and my mum was at work as usual. I was bored out of my mind, picking at the buttons on the television remote, so I decided to text Harry and see what he was doing.

Me: what you up to? i'm boredddddd

I continued watching replays of CSI whilst I awaited an answer. Constantly clicking the home button to check if I'd missed the reply through two and a half episodes, I was getting tired of waiting. I didn't want to be that annoying, clingy person that sends message after message because they're paranoid and lonely — he could have a perfectly reasonable explanation.

I pressed my thumb against the white button on my phone and unlocked it, tapping on my messages mindlessly and going onto the conversation with Harry. My eyes immediately fell upon the 'Read 14:03pm' sign underneath my message and I felt a twinge of hurt. He'd read me off? I'd sent my message just before two, so he'd opened it almost straight away but not replied.

I shook my head, clearing my mind of negative thoughts. I couldn't get offended over something so minute. There could be a million reasons why he didn't reply; for example he could be in class and didn't have time to reply after he'd opened it, or he could've opened it by accident and not even read it. Getting annoyed over someone not replying to text was completely stupid.

When the finishing credits for the third episode of CSI started rolling, I was irritable and desperate to know why he hadn't answered by now. I didn't care whether he thought I was annoying or not, I was going to text again.

Me: thanks for reading me off:):):):) I take it you're busy

Only minutes later, my phone went off.