this ....is SO long. i think it's the longest thing i've ever written lol so i hope you guys enjoy it. please comment and vote, it means the world to me and keeps me motivated to write more ❤️

btw the pic is the sweater he wears :)

+

"Oh my God, if he doesn't get up from the fucking ground I'm going to..."

Scarlett didn't get the chance to finish her threat, her words trailing off in a slur as she narrowed her eyes angrily at the television that was hung above the bar. Her elbows were propped on the countertop, one hand loosely wrapped around her half-downed glass of vodka, and there was a flush to her cheeks that would have almost made her look ethereal under the fluorescent lighting if it wasn't for the fact that it was induced by the alcohol polluting her veins. She huffed in exasperation and shot her gaze towards the bartender who had been subject to the multitude of insults she had been throwing at the football players on the screen for the past hour.

"What a prick, amirite? He's totally milking it!"

The poor guy could only nod in response, his hand busy working a towel over a dirty glass to clean it. He had found her amusing and even quite cute when she had first plopped onto the bar stool, a beautiful brunette whose thick curls bounced in unruly ringlets down the length of her back. She had bit her cheek and curled her full lips into a smile, eyes round as she asked him to get her a drink; he had been happy to serve her, but as one shot of vodka turned into several and her soft voice grew louder and her eyes glossy, the flirtatious grin he had been wearing fell into an annoyed purse of his lips.

"Yeah," he spoke dryly and sighed. Setting the cleaned glass into the sink, he stood in front of her, head blocking her view of the game, and leaned his palms on the edge of the counter. "Look, doll, do you have someone to come pick you up? I think it's time you get home."

Scarlett brushed off his comment, instead furrowing her eyebrows as she poked her head to the side in attempt to see past him. Her lips puckered into a frustrated pout. "Excuse me, I'm trying to watch something here," she grumbled.

"You need to get home," the bartender repeated dully as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have a cell on you? Do you want me to call a friend or maybe a relative to come pick you up?"

It wasn't often that he had to be forceful with customers after they'd drank too much, and it definitely wasn't often that it was a beautiful girl who was the one he was asking to leave. Maybe part of him was still charmed by the brightness in her eyes and the pink of her lips that was glossed over from her drink- he wanted her to leave him the fuck alone, but he also wanted to see to it that she made it back home safely.

"Cell phone," he said again when she didn't answer him. Scarlett finally flickered her eyes up at his firm face and smoothed her tongue across her lips. "Do you have one with you?"

"Mayyybe," she sang lowly, arching her brow. "Why should I..." Scarlett lazily rose her hand and reached over the counter to his chest, poking it with her index finger. "Give it to you?"

"Because I'll move out of the way so you can watch the game again."

That seemed to do the trick. She reached into her pocket and huffed as she slipped out her phone, handing it to him.

"Thanks," he muttered. He moved out of the way as promised and Scarlett's eyes instantly darted back to the football game.

The thing was, she really didn't even care for football, but the vodka had somehow turned her into a fan for the night. In the back of her mind, as she watched one of the players attempt to kick the ball toward the goal, a fuzzy memory of sitting curled up on his couch while a Manchester game was playing, taunted her against her will. Her nose had been scrunched up in confusion as she pestered him with questions through the entire thing- what are they wearing such short shorts for? Aren't they cold? Is there even an end to this damn game? He had laughed at her for being so damn clueless, and as she sat there on the bar stool now, Scarlett couldn't say that she had learned anymore about the pointless sport since then.

She wondered if he would be laughing at her now for trying to act like she knew what was happening.

The brief thought was forgotten just as quickly as it came, however, and her attention went back to the telly. "Bloody fuck, they can't do anything right. It's like they don't even want to win!" Scarlett threw her hands up in the air, watching as one of the players missed the goal. She was mumbling something about how the players were all pussies and if they let her out on the field, she would show them how it's done, just before the bartender spoke up from behind the counter.

"Who would be able to pick you up at this time?" he asked dryly. Scarlett blinked a few times and dropped her arms to her sides as she looked over at him, her attention span shortened from how much she'd drank.

"I dunno..." She rubbed at her temples. "Kate maybe... Yeah. Kate. She probably just ended her shift."

"Right. Kate."

He dialed her contact. There were a few beats of silence before he lowered the phone from his ear. "No Kate. She didn't pick up."

"Hmm, weird," Scarlett shrugged.

"Okay, who else is there?" He was losing his patience with each second that ticked by, a frustrated sigh flooding through him. "Let's see," the bartender said while scrolling through her contacts. "Your mom?"

"No. She lives faaaaar away."

"Sandy?"

"Nope," Scarlett popped the 'p' and skimmed her finger over the rim of her glass.

"What about Tim?"

"He's on his honeymoon," she shook her head, hiccuping. "Just got married. He invited me but I didn't go."

Ignoring her comment, the bartender frowned to himself before trying another name in her list of contacts. "Harry? How about him?"

Oh.

Harry. The name sounded so weird as it reached her ears, maybe because she was absolutely pissed or maybe because she hadn't heard it spoken aloud in what had to have been weeks. It made the color instantly wash from her cheeks and her fingers halt in their mindless dance around her shot glass. Sure, she had just been thinking about him a bit ago, and she did so more often than she wanted to admit; but allowing the deep, sadistic parts of her mind play memories of him was different than having to hear his name spoken from a bartender she didn't even know while he scrolled through her phone. Scarlett's head instantly began to sway from side to side in a panic as she flattened her palms against the bar counter.

"No!" she practically shrieked. Scarlett lunged forward onto the counter and attempted to grab the phone from him. "You can't- you can't call him."

"Does he live near by?" was all the bartender said, eyebrow quirking. It was easy to bypass her flailing arm as she stretched it out as far as she could- all he had to do was step back and hold the phone close to his chest.

"Yes- wait, no! That doesn't matter," she stuttered, a flush creeping down her neck and collarbones. "You're not going to call Harry."

Of course, he was already calling him, bringing the phone up to his ear and brushing off each of her slurred pleas. Scarlett could barely process what was happening; her head was spinning even faster than before and as she sat back down on the bar stool, everything around her seemed to blur together. The bar lights bled into her vision and the heavy thudding of the music seemed to drown out most of what the bartender was saying into the phone, but she could just barely make out some of the words that formed on his lips.

"She's absolutely wasted... just want to make sure she's safe... text you the address... thanks, man."

She watched him hang up after what felt like hours and glance towards her. "He's on his way," he said, and Scarlett felt like she was going to throw up.

"I'm not leaving with him," she pressed weakly. Her arms folded over her chest and she noticed the roll of his eyes.

"Sure you're not."

If it weren't for the alcohol in her veins working to drown away her nerves, she probably would have made a run for it. She hadn't seen him since they had broken up and the memory of it was something she had worked very hard to shove to the back of her brain so that even now. She hadn't wanted to see his disheveled, dark curls or his soft lips because she knew if she did, the knife that had lodged itself into her stomach would slowly twist around until every last ounce of her blood seeped out.

That was why she couldn't have been more grateful for how intoxicated she was when he showed up to the bar no more than ten minutes later.

Harry stood at the entrance with his hands running through his unruly curls in order to brush away the light peppering of snow in it from the wintery, London night outside. His lips were pursed as he drifted his eyes over the sea of people, before they inevitably landed on the girl seated at the bar whose cheeks were flushed red and makeup was smudged under her eyes. Scarlett swore she saw them widen slightly for a moment, but then they quickly narrowed into slits just as he began walking over to her, the sound of his boots against the wood floor drowned out by the music in her ears.

It seemed like one moment he was on the other side of the room and then the next he was right in front of her. Time was incoherent to her and so was the smell of his cologne that wafted up her nostrils, the scent something that she had tried to recreate in her head at night one too many times. It brought a nauseating feel to her stomach.

"Scarlett," was the first thing he said. Her name came out as nothing more than a breath on his tongue. She blinked up at him and steadied herself on the stool by gripping the edge of the counter.

"Harold," she retorted with a raise of her eyebrows. If she was as nervous as before about seeing him, then her drunk state did a good job masking it. "Fancy seeing you here this evening."

He sighed and lowered his voice. "I'm here to get you home safely," he uttered almost in annoyance, then turned to look at the man behind the bar who was watching their interaction closely. Harry offered him an apologetic smile. "Thanks for calling, mate."

"No problem," he nodded. His hand held out her cell phone. "Here, this is hers. I think maybe you should hold onto it until she gets home."

"Excuse me," Scarlett gasped as Harry reached for the phone. She narrowed her eyes petulantly. "I'm not a bloody child. I can have my own phone."

"Apparently not," Harry countered, slipping it into his pocket. "Look, I'm just going to hold on to it for you. Now let's get out of here, alright?"

Scarlett wanted to argue back but she couldn't even remember what it was she wanted to argue about. She barely noticed when Harry's digits, long and rough and cold from the air outside, wrapped around her wrist securely and tugged at it, urging her to stand up from the stool. She didn't notice the worried look that pinched onto his features as she made her way onto her feet, struggling to keep her balance and instantly leaning into his side to stay upright. She clung to him subconsciously, twisting her fingers in the fabric of his sweatshirt while his arm wrapped firmly around her waist.

"Jesus, how much did she drink?" she heard him say. The bartender said something in response, but it was too difficult to hear over the music. Scarlet knew that it was enough to worsen the worry in Harry's eyes, though, as he peered down at her with a frown curled onto his plump lips.

"What were you fucking thinking, Scar? You came here all by yourself with no one to take you home?" he scolded as if he was speaking with a child.

"I'm fine," she snapped. She ignored the flutter in her heart from the use of the old nickname. "I was perfectly okay taking care of myself before you came. I don't need you, so go."

Rather than the hint of anger on his face deepening, Harry simply shook his head in amusement. "Fine? What were you going to do then? Pass out and sleep on the street for the night? You would've froze to death." The low laughter that reverberated through his chest contradicted with the longing in his emerald irises- maybe she was too drunk to notice, but he was very much grateful that that hadn't been the case.

"No," she said. "I would have..." Her eyes glanced back at the bartender before she flattened her palm against Harry's clothed chest, attempting to distance herself from him. "I would have left him. He's my friend."

"Friend?" Harry scoffed and tightened his grip around her, pulling her closer to him and allowing no room for her to escape. "I don't think he would have called me if he wanted to deal with you himself."

"Well," she started, but couldn't find anything to say because despite how fuzzy her head was, she knew he was right. Harry would have smirked in triumph if it weren't for the fact that he was concerned about the paleness of her skin and the tinge of red brimming her eyes; swearing under his breath, he ran his hand through his hair and began to guide her toward the exit of the bar.

Scarlett didn't put up a fight. The buzz from the alcohol was fading and being replaced with fatigue and a sickening churn in her gut. She naturally let her head fall to Harry's shoulder as he helped her out and she noticed him stiffen beneath her, probably reminded of a time when she would do the same gesture but under much different, more pleasant circumstances.

"I can't believe you got wasted. It's not like you," Harry mumbled when they reached the door. He glanced down at her, making note of the tight skirt and blouse she was wearing that was anything but appropriate for the weather outside. Sighing, he tugged at the collar of his sweatshirt and pulled it over his head.

"You don't know me," Scarlett hiccuped in retaliation, but the words held no conviction. He did know her, and getting drunk by herself at some bar was definitely not something she did often. She didn't want to admit it, though. It seemed she was set on being stubborn for the night despite how tired she was growing.

"Put this on," Harry said quietly, not fighting back. He didn't feel like arguing with his drunk ex girlfriend right then- he just wanted to get her home safe, so he helped her lift up her arms and fit them through the sleeves of the sweatshirt before pulling the material down over her head, mussing up her hair in the process. Harry thoughtlessly combed his fingers through it once the sweatshirt was on her, making the dark strands appear somewhat decent so she didn't look like too much of a mess, before he pushed the door open and guided her outside.

"Harry."

Her voice was soft and made his eyes dart down towards her. The snow was falling at a faster rate than before, cascading onto his bare skin that was exposed from just the plain tee shirt he was wearing.

"What?" he asked.

"My head hurts," she whimpered. It was a stark contrast to the way she had been barking at him only minutes ago when he first got there; it made his chest ache. "Badly."

"Well, that's what happens when you drink so much," he replied with a sigh. They reached his car, which he was grateful he hadn't parked too far away from the bar, and he opened the passenger door before helping her inside (by helping, he had to practically haul her into the seat like an infant).

"I know," Scarlett sighed through her nostrils as she watched him strap the seatbelt over her lap. "I don't know why I did it. I just... I just wanted to forget."

Her words were slurred and barely louder than a murmur, but that didn't stop the way they invited a pang of hurt to burn a hole through Harry's chest. His fingers paused for a moment and he swallowed thickly- he didn't want to ask her what exactly it was she was wanting to forget, and he didn't think he needed to.

Brushing the thought away, he finished buckling her in the seat before slamming the door shut. The empty streets and blanket of night that enveloped them were evidence of the late hour it was; Harry was struggling to fight his own exhaust, having been just about to go to bed before the bartender had rang him up. He was glad that when he got into the car and started it, the girl beside him was already knocked out herself, because he wasn't sure if he would have had the strength to deal with her when she was loud and riled up.

"Jesus, Scar," he murmured to himself and threaded his fingers through his curls. He reached over and turned the heat onto his sleeping ex girlfriend, noticing the visible goosebumps that peppered her bare legs. A soft snore pushed passed her lips and she curled into the faux leather seat.

"What am I going to do with you?"

+

Scarlett woke up to the smell of mint and musk invading her senses, a sleepy hum leaving her lips as she buried her face into the pillow beneath her head. Her legs were tucked against her chest for extra warmth through the night and one of her arms was dangling off the side of the mattress limply.

It was when she peeled her eyes open that she felt the thrumming at the back of her skull. It could have been worse given the state she had been in the night before, but it was still noticeable enough to have her wincing as she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. The dull ache felt as though someone was tapping a mallet lightly against her head; she did her best to ignore the sensation while sitting up slightly against the pillows and taking in her surroundings.

It took about a total of five seconds to realize that she wasn't in her own bedroom. Scarlett's lips parted in confusion as she noticed the closet in the corner where a pile of clothes were heaped on the floor, the black skinny jeans and band tees clearly not belonging to her. There were a few posters that decorated the walls but other than that the room was bare, the black-painted walls feeling suffocating as they engulfed her and caused the organ in her chest to start racing. Everything was so familiar but it wasn't until her sleep-clouded eyes landed on the broad figure standing in the doorway that Scarlett's suspicions were confirmed.

"What... what the fuck!" she gaped at him, brown eyes wide as if to take in all that was happening at once. She was in Harry's bedroom, and he was stood before her with his arms crossed over his chest and a blank expression written on his features as he stared at her.

"Morning," he said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Sleep well?"

"I..." She glanced around again before her eyes drifted down at herself. She had been changed out of her tight outfit from the night before, instead adorning a loose black shirt that was obviously too big for her small frame along with a pair of plaid boxers. "I'm wearing your clothes? Oh my God."

"Well I wasn't going to let you sleep in that damn skirt, was I?" Harry raised his eyebrow. Scarlett didn't seem to hear his words as she sifted her hands through her thick hair and then massaged her temples, the ache in her head intensifying the longer he stared at her.

"What the hell is going on? Why am I in your bed, Harry?" she asked calmly, holding back the unease in her voice.

"You mean you don't remember anything?"

She stilled, eyes round. "We... we had sex?"

"What? No!" Harry shook his head and approached the bed. He was already dressed in his usual tight pants and a long sleeve, brown sweater that was baggy enough for his fist to wrap around the end of the sleeve. His eyes were like iron as they glowered down at her, not giving away how he was handling as he studied her like a bug under a microscope. He pinched the skin at his shoulder before sighing. "I got a call last night right before I was about to sleep. It was a bartender telling me that you were absolutely pissed and yelling at a television... He wanted me to come pick you up, so I did."

Scarlett stayed silent for a few beats. She inhaled sharply. The memory was faint in the back of her head but it was there, and his telling of it only made her feel more ashamed, her cheeks blushing lightly. She couldn't think of the last time she had done something like that. There were a few times in high school when she had stumbled home at some God awful hour, reeking of pot and who knew what else, only for her mother to scold her for being so reckless. Since then, she hadn't found interest in doing things that could potentially get her arrested, or worse.

"That doesn't explain why I'm here," Scarlett spoke up, clutching the blanket to her chest. "Or why I am in your clothes. Did we do something together?"

"No, Christ. I already told you we didn't." Harry groaned and rolled his eyes. "You seriously think I would do that when you were drunk? Really, Scarlett?"

"What am I supposed to think?" she snapped.

He scoffed in disbelief before throwing his arms up. "You know what? You're supposed to be fucking thanking me for coming to get you and letting you crash here. I didn't have to do that!"

"Exactly. You didn't have to do that." She shot him a pointed look while throwing the sheets back and beginning to search around for her clothes. "So why did you, Harry?"

"Because I'm a nice person, I don't know. Fuck." He huffed out a breath, dragging his hand across his jaw as he watched her bend down to pick up the skirt and blouse that he had discarded from her body. "You can't seriously be mad at me for helping you."

"If you wanted to help me, you could have just taken me to my place. You know where I live."

"Well- I..." he faltered for a moment. "You were asleep and I didn't know if you- if you lived in the same flat, okay? And I wasn't going to wake you up for the key."

She didn't say anything. Instead, she grabbed her heels from the corner of the bedroom and dangled them from one finger while tossing her clothes onto her shoulder. She swallowed, heading towards the door and not even sparing him a glance as she walked out.

To her dismay, Scarlett remembered her way around. Her legs carried her without a thought down the familiar hallway and to the front room where she smelled freshly brewed coffee and an aroma of all her favorite foods that she knew Harry loved to have for breakfast, too- eggs, pancakes, toasted English muffins with jam. She ignored the growl in her stomach as she made her way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Harry called, following after her.

"Leaving."

"How? You don't have your car."

He approached her and placed his palm against the door, keeping it shut before she could even reach the knob. Scarlett glared up at him.

"You can't fucking keep me here," she huffed. "I shouldn't even be here in the first place, Harry. I'm leaving."

"Just," he licked his lips and paused before softening his voice, "Just let me give you a ride, okay? So I know you get home alright."

Her face was hard and unwavering but she gave a short nod. Harry let out a breath, reaching for his keys as he shook his head to  himself. "So stubborn," he muttered while opening the door. "Always have been."

The ride to her flat was void of conversation. Harry wanted to speak up- to apologize for taking her to his place without her knowing- but he didn't have the courage or the energy to have her yell at him again. So he kept his lips sealed together, only moving his head to shoot her a few glances when he knew that she was looking out the window and wouldn't notice it. She looked tired but beautiful as always, her hair in unruly waves down her back and the boxers he had given her to wear exposing her milky thighs as they rolled up just beneath her hips.

She looked peaceful more than anything, with the cloudy skies casting a dull glow over the peaks of her cheekbones- Harry knew she didn't feel that way, though. Her words from the night before had been playing over and over in his head all morning, bringing up more questions than he wanted to even ask. Did she regret breaking up? Was she still hurting like he was? Did she lay awake at night and brush her fingertips over herself, imagining that they were his? They gnawed at his thoughts like termites, drilling holes into the last ounce of his sanity.

Upon pulling up to her apartment building, he stopped the car and turned to face her. She didn't look at him.

"I'm sorry, alright?" he finally sighed. Harry scratched the dust of hair on his jaw and watched her look down at her lap. "I'm sorry that I changed you out of your clothes and didn't take you to your place. I was just trying to do the right thing, I guess."

"I know, Harry," Scarlett mouthed, turning her head to peer out the window. The air was thick and cold because he had forgotten to turn on the heat, and if Harry was able to, he was certain that he could cut through it with a knife. "I know. I'm sorry, too. For yelling at you and thinking the worst."

"S'okay. I guess I'm used to it, huh?" He allowed himself that one swipe, the bitterness he felt over how things had ended surfacing. He regretted it immediately, though, mentally swearing at himself for stooping that low before he quickly covered it up. "Sorry. Shit, I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine. You did."

She reached for the door suddenly and opened it just barely enough to swing her leg out, one foot landing on the concrete. Harry couldn't stop himself from lunging forward, quickly grabbing her thigh and pulling it back in before he slammed the car door shut. Scarlett squeaked in surprise, her eyes flying toward him and her mouth parting.

"Wait-"

"Harry-"

"Don't," he rushed out, biting his lip as he placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Don't go just yet. I have to ask you something. Please, I'm going to regret it if I don't," he breathed.

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

He gulped down his nerves but kept a steady gaze, capturing her eyes with his. "Last night, you said something. I know you were drunk, but I'm pretty sure that you meant it. You said... you said that the reason you did it was because you wanted to forget. What did you mean by that?"

If the air was thick before, it was suffocating now. Scarlett blinked profusely and looked away, as if she was recalling the words she had said herself. "Harry, I..."

"Tell me, please," he whispered before she could come up with some excuse. "No bullshit. You owe me one for last night, Scar."

"Why are you asking me this when you already know the answer?" she grounded out. Her blood was turning to ice in her veins. "You know what I'm going to say, you just want me to sit here and make a fool of myself."

"No! I want to know what you have to say! I wouldn't have asked if I knew the answer."

"I wanted to forget about you, okay? Are you happy?" Her voice broke into a whisper as the confession slipped out and she closed her eyes. "It didn't fucking work obviously because you ended up having to come get me. The whole thing basically blew up in my face, huh?" She laughed pitifully and shook her head, opening her eyes only to look up into the thoughtful green ones that were in front of her.

"You wanted to forget me?" Harry asked in a murmur.

"Yes," she nodded slowly. His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb rubbed over her temple. "I wanted to... Fuck- I miss you, Harry. And I hate it."

"I miss you too, Scarlett," he admitted softly. She inhaled a sharp breath at his words and felt every seam of her heart rip like it was being overstuffed with emotion all at once; she didn't want to feel anything anymore. She was so tired of feeling sad and angry and hurt, to the point that she had hoped the vodka would make her feel nothing at all. Shaking her head, Scarlett gripped his wrist and pulled his hand away from her cheek, distancing herself from the consuming feel of his hot breath fanning over her lips and his homey scent wafting up her nose.

"I can't," she said and reached for the door again. "I can't hear this."

She tried to open it but it was to no avail- a strong hand once again beat her to it, closing the door before she could step out of the car. The same hand grasped the back of her neck and forced her close to him, a warm mouth suddenly covering hers before she had the chance to protest. Scarlett took only a few moments to realize that it was his mouth, and his body had somehow moved close enough to her that she could hear the thrum thrum of his heart that seemed to match the pace of her own organ. She felt like her head was spinning just as it had the night before, only now it was due to his close proximity and the feel of his soft lips molded against hers, supplying her with the exact numb feeling that she craved. She finally kissed him back after a few seconds, her lips seeking warmth in his plump ones despite the warning bells going off in her head.

"I've been wanting to do that since last night," Harry confessed in a low rasp when they broke apart for air. Scarlett gulped down a breath, feeling every nerve in her body awaken even though she knew she looked just as rough as the night she had had. She was overwhelmed by the heat that was wracking through her spine just from that one kiss, to the point she feared she would melt into the cold leather seat.

"We're not together anymore," Scarlett managed to say, panting. Her hand went to the back of his neck and pulled him impossibly closer. "We can't do this."

Harry nodded, his eyes on her lips. "I know." He kissed her again, his mouth pressing firmly against hers, and Scarlett sighed with relief from the feel of it. She ignored the voices in the back of her mind warning her to stop and instead listened to the cracks and creases in his chapped lips, begging for her to brush her tongue over them. The kiss was faster this time, their mouths parting so they could roam inside them while Harry's hand dropped to her hips. He pulled away slightly after a minute and gave the supple flesh a squeeze.

"Come here," he said simply and it was enough to have her nodding her head eagerly. She kept her arms secure around his neck and lifted her body over the center console in a way that was anything but graceful. Her thighs encompassed his narrow hips as she sat on his lap, her head inches from the ceiling of the car.

They were kissing again, even more feverish this time as Harry opened his mouth and lapped his tongue against her. His hands went to her hips where the shirt she was wearing had bunched up, unveiling a few inches of soft skin that his fingertips gingerly brushed against. A moan filled his mouth and without wasting a second, Scarlett wrapped her dainty fingers around his wrists and urged his hands to lift the shirt up.

"You sure-?" Harry hoarsely asked and she nodded. His lips didn't stop their assault against her soft mouth, which tasted faintly of vodka, as he tugged the fabric up her torso. Inches upon inches of golden skin were revealed to him. He tossed the shirt carelessly to the back seat and then roamed the palms of his hands over her body- her waist, her softly curved stomach, her ribs. She felt smooth and cold under his calloused touch, just as he remembered. The feel of his hands against her awaiting skin instantly heated them both up despite the cold air enveloping them. Their hearts drummed faster and faster beneath their chests as their movements became progressively more passionate.

Harry took a moment to marvel at the girl on his lap once he pulled away. She was stunning. The sight of her bare body, ample chest hugged by her white bra, was enough to have his swollen lips parting in awe. He didn't think he would ever get to see her like this again. She was more beautiful than his dreams at night could recreate- her dark hair framed her face in a way that accentuated her pearly skin and rosy cheeks, and her collarbones protruded gently as if begging for his tongue to caress them.

He didn't get the chance to, however, because it seemed the girl on top of him had plans of her own.

She reached for his wrists and pulled his hands away from her body all of the sudden. Harry frowned in confusion when she then leaned forward, her hand blindly searching on the side of the seat before finding the lever that made it recline. It was pushed down all the way so that Harry was laying down with Scarlett straddling his hips, her hands settling on his heaving chest to keep herself sturdy.

"Shit," Harry breathed, peering up at the angel perched on his hips who seemed more like the devil in that moment. Her lips fell into a smirk just when she began to rock her hips against him, the pads of her fingers pressing into his clothed chest to help her move back and forth. She circled and rocked and dug her center against the growing bulge in his jeans, her head lulling back so the ends of her dark hair brushed over his knees. A throaty groan left Harry's lips; he couldn't do anything but let her take control, his hands resting helplessly on her hips.

"Baby.. You look so fucking sexy." He panted and watched the way her breasts bounced in her bra with darkened eyes.

Shaking her head, Scarlett scraped her nails lightly into his chest. "Don't call me that," she warned. She dipped her head down to seal her lips over his once more, silencing whatever he was going to say next. Harry was at her mercy- he knew that if he did something wrong, she would snap out of whatever lustful, careless daze she was in and leave him there to go back to staying up all night wondering what went wrong.

If he was honest, he still didn't know what had been the final nail in the coffin of their relationship, but he wasn't going to think about that now as she slipped her hands under his top and felt up his chest.

"Off," Scarlett muttered into his mouth. Harry nodded and complied to her demand, snaking one arm around her waist to keep her there while he used the other to tug up his sweater over his head. Once it was discarded, Scarlett attached her lips to the base of his throat. She tasted the shaky moan that traveled up his trachea and trembled on his swollen lips; she wanted to taste more, so she kissed her way down the plane of his chest. Her lips trickled over the sweat-clad skin of his waist and torso, a pair of green eyes watching her all the while as she finally reached the jeans that hugged his hips. Harry's abdomen visibly flexed- he was more than hard and ready for her.

"You gonna take me?" Harry reached his hand out to run through her hair. She gave one last kiss to the trail of hair below his navel before lifting her head to nod at him. Fingers hooking in the belt loops, Scarlett tugged the tight pants down his legs far enough for his briefs to be unveiled, along with the thick bulge that filled them.

She quickly slid his pair of boxers from off her legs. Her hand grazed over his clothed erection and squeezed lightly, just enough to earn her a husky groan from the man beneath her. It was all nimble fingers and baited breaths from there; Scarlett pulled down his briefs, wrapped her small hand around the thick of him, and then positioned her core over his hard cock.

Gulping, Harry smoothed his hand over her waist. "Bab-" he stopped himself, "I mean, Scar... Are you sure?"

"Yes," she whispered. She leaned down and kissed him hard on the mouth. Her hand reached between their bodies to stroke his cock a few times before running the engorged tip of it along her panties. Harry could already feel her excitement soaked through the fabric; once he pushed the fabric aside, he swore her juices practically dripped onto him once his cock met her wet folds.

Scarlett bit down on his bottom lip as she sank onto his length, the large size of him slowly filling her up to the brim. Her breath caught in her threat and she gasped into his mouth. Large hands squeezed her soft waist harshly and a string of gritted swears and groans filled the cramped space of the car. Once she had taken all of him in, their pelvic bones aligned, Harry began to suck on her lip in order to distract himself from the wet walls that clasped tightly around him, pulsing against his length. He loved how she felt- he swore it was even better than he remembered.

It was when she began to move her hips that Scarlett screwed her eyes shut. She lifted back up so his cock almost slipped from her cunt, before lowering all the way back down. She repeated the action over and over, her pace gradually picking up as she felt herself adjust to the burning stretch of having him inside her. She didn't know how she had let it get to this- to hasty sex in the back of her ex's car- but that all seemed like a minor detail in the moment.

The overwhelming feel of her fucking into him, her walls clenching around his cock with each movement of her hips, was driving Harry mad. He dug his short nails into the notches of her spine and held her chest close to his, their hearts racing in sync with her bouncing and her full breasts melting against him. If the winter air outside hadn't already left a fog on the windows, then their heated breaths would have as moans and grunts and hot pants echoed around them. Scarlett circled her hips while sinking down on him again and again, the angle causing waves of pleasure to course through her blood. A high pitched whimper left her lips and her palm braced herself by slamming against the steamed window, leaving her handprint on the glass.

"Fuck!" She all but screamed into his mouth. The quick bob of her body was beginning to slow down as her limbs trembled. Her head fell to his shoulder, face burying into his sweaty neck, and Harry took the opportunity to grip her hips. He helped her by slamming his pelvis upward and driving his cock quickly in and out of her. Their skin slapped together loudly, nearly drowning out the soft chanting of his name in his ear.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," she gasped into his skin.

The sound of it was music to his ears. He felt her nails scrape into his biceps; her channel tightened even more around him; the hand on the window dragged over the glass in attempt to exert the pressure threatening to burst in her core. Her nose brushed along his jawline and Harry noticed that she was barely even grinding down on him anymore. She had lost the will to be in control and with that, he put all of his energy into fucking up into her. His cock impaled her over and over, as if he was desperate to reach inside her and remind her of what they once shared. He splayed his palms over her ass, cupping it, while her knees locked on the sides of his hips.

Scarlett weakly lifted her head from his neck. She rested her sticky forehead against his and stared into his dark irises while moaning repetitively. Harry moved his hands to her hair, fingers pressing into her scalp and the nape of her neck as he ruthlessly pounded into her. Perhaps, just maybe, there was a bit of anger that he shed with each thrust. How could you have given up on us? Why didn't you answer my calls? Why did you choose to get wasted instead of just talking to me? He gritted out each question silently as his hips grew sloppy and his mind began to spiral into an abyss. His climax was quickly approaching.

"H-Harry," she whimpered. She swallowed down a moan and panted over his face. "I can't... I can't hold it."

"I know." He gathered her hair in his hand and brushed it over her shoulder. His thrusts were slowing down but still each one delivered the hilt of his cock deep into her center. "Let go- fuck, Scar, cum for me."

His words of permission were all she needed to hear. She shivered; a sharp gasp left her throat. Harry stopped his movements as he watched her crumble in his embrace, her entire body quivering with the intensity of the plateau she had reached. He kissed her shoulder and cooed in her ear to help her through it before he followed shortly after, not able to hold it back himself as her orgasm caused her to clench around him. His cum came in long spurts inside her (he hoped in the back of his mind that she was still on the pill) and he collapsed against the car seat with a breathless groan.

"Fuck."

Silence followed as they regained their breath. Harry felt lightheaded. He couldn't really think clearly as he laid there, staring up through slightly blurred vision and thoughtlessly running his hand along her back. He didn't know what to think other than he had missed this more than he had even thought- not just the sex, but the way she nuzzled against him while her climax gradually sizzled away from her veins.

"You good?" Harry asked a few minutes later. He tucked in his chin to peer at the girl on his chest.

The sound of his voice seemed to spark a realization in her. She blinked, sitting up and running her hand through her sex-styled hair. Her eyes were on everything but him as she reached over to grab her shirt.

"Scarlett?"

"We shouldn't have done that."

Her voice came out shaky and small. Harry sat up with her and gently cupped her waist, eyebrows pinching together in worry. The look that was passing over her face was exactly what he had feared and not even the lingering orgasm in his blood could stop the churning of his stomach as he watched her pull the shirt over her head.

"What do you mean? You wanted it."

"I know I did," she barked but then quickly shook her head, her face softening. A sigh pushed past her lips and she rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "Harry... we aren't together. This isn't right."

"I fucking know we aren't together."

"Then why did you do it?"

His face fell. "Me? You were the one screaming my goddamned name! You can't pin this all on me, Scar."

She shook her head and didn't say anything. She reached for the discarded pair of boxers and pulled them up her legs while Harry sat there anxiously tugging at his hair. The sky outside was darkening and it looked like the clouds looking above were going to mean a storm soon.

"Don't go," Harry blurted when she moved to the front of the car and grabbed her clothes and heels. "Come on, we can talk about this. Just... calm down, okay." He was all but begging at this point and it took him back to the night they broke up when he had been asking to her to stay, to talk things out instead of running away. But that's what Scarlett did best- she left without giving him a chance and then ended up being more vulnerable with a bottle of vodka than with him.

"I have to go, Harry," was all she said. She gave him a single glance as she reached for the door. Harry tucked his softened dick into his briefs and scooted closer to watch her step out with longing in his eyes.

"Alright, okay. I'll call you, Scarlett. Promise you will answer? I'll call you," he rambled and the door was slammed shut a moment later. As he watched the girl with dark curls stride towards her apartment, wearing his clothes on her small frame, a hole carved its way into Harry's stomach. He leaned his head against the steering wheel, sighing in frustration; only she could make he feel this lost and empty minutes after having mind blowing sex.

"I'll call her," he said again to himself, the words sounding like a determined promise as they echoed against the walls of his car.

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