Lights, Cameras, & Harry Styles

28: Cake, Falling, & Harry Styles

—Amber—

I had forgotten to set the alarm. The minute my eyes peeled open that morning, they immediately flickered over to the bedside clock. 10:07 am. Harry and I were supposed to be on set an hour ago. Cursing, I go to slide off the bed until I realize I can barely move. Harry's arm was tightly wrapped around my waist and he was snoring loudly. We were already late. There's no point in rushing now.

I wiggled around in Harry's arms until I'm facing him, my eyes scanning over his sleeping figure. His curls flopped lazily and messily over his head and his eyelashes fluttered lightly. I could feel his chest rising and falling against me and due the closeness of his face, every little flaw of his visible. Absent- mindedly, I found myself smiling. He was stunning. Even when he was sleeping and absolutely oblivious to the world, Harry Styles was beautiful. It's something I always knew. Even when I thought I hated him, I always had a soft spot for the curly-haired boy. Looking at him now, his lips merely inches from mine; I had the urge to kiss them again. I reach up and brush a few curls off Harry's forehead, loving the way they felt on my fingertips. Giving into temptation, I lean in, ignoring his snores and closing my eyes as I inched towards his lips.

"What are you doing?"

My eyes burst open and I quickly back up, startled. Harry's staring back at me. Even though he's obviously tired, his eyebrow is raised and there's a bit of a smile on his lips.

"I was," I stammer. "I was, uh... I just..." Harry chuckles, removing his arm from around my waist and reaching up to run his fingers over my cheek.

"Were you going to kiss me?" My mouth goes dry and I don't know how to respond. If I lied, he'd see right through it. So what do I say?

Suddenly, Harry's face is closer to my face, his nose brushing against mine in what could almost be an eskimo kiss.

"You can kiss me whenever." He whispers. "You know that, right?"

I swallow, trying pull away from him and scramble off the bed. His arm returns to my waist, keeping my in place.

"Where are you going?"

"We're, erm..." I struggle to form the words. "We're late." Harry looks over at the clock, an amused expression on his face.

"So what's the rush now?"

Once again, I don't know what to say. The butterflies are going nuts in my stomach. I wonder if it's healthy what Harry does to me. The rapid breathing, sometimes no breathing at all. The butterflies; the sudden urges to kiss him then and there. Everything.

Sucking in a deep breath of air, I ignore Harry's previous question and slam my lips against his. It was the urge that brought on the sudden courage. Since our first, real kiss yesterday, I've been craving to kiss him again. It's becoming an addiction. Quickly but surely, kissing Harry was like smoking; you can stop, but you don't want too.

Harry kisses me back. Unlike yesterday, this kiss was soft, slow, and chaste. His thumb brushes against my cheek and I struggle to hide the disappointment when he pulls away. His forehead is scrunched up, but his expression is unreadable. Frowning, I throw him a questioning look.

"Amber?" Harry bites his lip, his green eyes searching mine. "What are we?"

I exhale, letting my head fall onto Harry's shoulder. "I don't know."

Sighing, Harry props himself up onto a sitting position, pulling me with him. I feel his hand take mine, our fingers intertwining. I glance down, staring at how my small fingers fit perfectly between the spaces of his large ones.

"Are we together?" Harry asks suddenly, turning his head to look at me.

"Together?" I repeat.

He nods. "A couple."