...

The following Monday was a bit of a revolution.

During first period I was constantly staring at the screen on my laptop and only managed to type in two words into my English essay (which I later deleted) before almost boring a hole in my palm with a pencil out of boredom. There was no way I could let my mind think about the literature during the antique Greek rather than contemplate over when I was going to see Harry next. When there was twenty minutes left of the class, I snuck my hands under the table to text him.

ME: Hey.

HARRY: Hi. Don't you have English?

ME: Yes but I'm thinking about other stuff.

HARRY: Me?

ME: Maybe...

HARRY: Sleep over at mine tonight? Liam is gonna hang out with some chick.

ME: Count on me.

After sliding my phone into my pocket I find myself staring into nothingness. The entire rest of the class consisted of my mind imagining how my night would end with Harry.

...

The night came fast and I popped over to Harry's at nine o'clock. Once I came inside he was laying in bed with his headphones plugged in with closed eyes. I chuckled at the sight before shaking his body to make him aware that I was there, he almost jumped up, took his earplugs out and paused the music.

"Sorry." I laughed. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's—It's okay. Come here."

Dropping my bad on the floor, I crawled into bed and laid down on my back next to him. He rolled closer, kissed my cheek and kneeled down next to me. While unbuttoning my pants he hummed on a song—presumingly the one he had previously been listening too. Despite my terrible knowledge in music, I was able to figure out that this was the melody to Mirrors by Justin Timberlake.

He was pulling down my fly when he started humming more efficiently, the falsetto occasionally shining through (which sounded really good, by the way). My boxers were yanked down with his teeth, and my flaccid length was gradually filling with blood as he grazed it with his long fingers. I loved the feeling of his characteristic rings rubbing against my veins and sensitive foreskin.

"Justin Timberlake, huh?" I breathed, as it seemed he wouldn't stop humming.

He looked me in the eye. "Can I put it on?"

I blinked. "The song?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "It sets the mood."

"Alright," I agreed.

He let go of me and spent three minutes connecting his phone to the little speaker on his nightstand and soon enough, the song started playing on very low volume. Once the voice started singing, Harry's hands were back to my cock. He began by licking the tip, soon sucking on the glans like a lollipop.

So there I was, listening to Timberlake singing his heart out while Harry was sucking my dick. Apparently it was only me who found it strange. Even when he he started playing with his fingers around my opening while we were fully undressed and the second verse came along with the most ironic lyrics in the world, I was the only one who seemed to shudder with terror. Timberlake sang, "Aren't you somethin', an original, 'cause it doesn't seem merely a sample, and I can't help but stare, 'cause I see truth somewhere in your eyes."

The most rattling moment was when Harry had finally entered me (this time with protection and the help of lube) and he was snuggling his face into my neck to place comforting kisses along the outside of my artery while we both listened to the speakers play "You are, you are the love of my life" over and over, and over again.

God, how long is this song?

Ironically, both of us climaxed just as the music started to fade out. During my state of exhaustion I picked up his phone and turned off Bluetooth to stop it from continuing playing more songs, and thankfully Harry did not question my actions. He was still on top of me, still sucking on my neck. Part of me liked it, and part of me wanted to punch him in the tummy for still humming the melody to that stupid song.

Fucking Timberlake.

In silence we were laying, the only sound being the smacking from his kisses against my skin. The pace of his heart was rather rapid when I felt it tap against me while his torso was being tightly pressed down against mine. I couldn't I believe I had agreed to spend the night with him like this because he would never stop kissing me and it was not in a sexual way.

"Your smell," Harry hummed. "I love it."

"Thanks." I sniffled, my hands discreetly sneaking over his sides. "It's my shower gel, I believe."

"You don't use cologne?" he asked.

"Not on my neck."

"Oh." He leaned back, his entire body weight resting on top of me as he stared into my eyes. From his point of view I was most likely showing off my double-chins, but he still looked at me as if I had just arrived straight from heaven. "I would love to join you in the shower."

I ran my hand through his fringe. "You should do that some time then."

There was a long space of time where we laid in silence, looking each other in the eye. He seemed even more captivated than before and it was still bugging me. The voice of Justin Timberlake echoed in my head; I see truth somewhere in your eyes. That was exactly how I felt. I saw the truth in Harry Styles' glimmering, emerald, shining, mesmerising, breathtakingly beautiful eyes—and the truth was, Harry Styles had stopped sleeping with other people. Harry Styles enjoyed sleeping with me more than he did with anyone else. Harry Styles had feelings for me.

His stare became even more intense with time. It was not in a creepy way. It was clear that he felt mesmerised (I don't know how I had that power) as his eyebrows were somewhat creased and his lips had the slightest curl to them, indicating a sense of enjoyment. As he was doing this, he stroked my triceps very carefully with the tip of his fingers, the sensation somewhat sending shivers through the skin of my arms.

I blushed.

And for that reason, a subtle smile grew on his lips, which made me do the same.

Shyly, I mused, "Stop looking at me like that."

Harry cracked a smile. "Like what?"

"Like...that."

Without getting a response I suddenly attempted rolling over while his body was still pushing me down. Observing my actions, he lifted his torso so I could lay down beside him instead. I was finally able to stare at the ceiling without his stunning eyes blocking the view. His hand however, was already creeping along my arm.

"Hey," he hummed.

I turned my head to the side, scanning his face. "Mm?"

His nose was only a couple inches away from mine. With the softest expression, I felt as though he observed every feature of my face. After having done that, he traced his thumb over my jaw. His eyes followed every movement of his own finger as it stopped at my chin where he rubbed the skin lightly before moving on to the centre of my cheek, grazing it back and forth while staring longingly at my lips. Seconds later he looked me in the eye again, his hand ceasing as it cupped my face.

"You're so beautiful."

And so his nose brushed against mine. The small sensation along with his words made me blush a second time. My eyelids fluttered as my gaze switched between his sincere eyes and his plump and abnormally pink lips. His temptation to kiss me was so strong that I could feel it stinging right where he was touching my skin. Instead of giving in turned my head again, sighing heavily as we broke eye contact and Harry's hand slid off my face.

I couldn't give in.

He was Harry Styles, for God's sake.

Imagine what Adeline would say.

And Elise.

And Caleb.

Kissing Harry would mean admitting that I had feelings for him. Kissing Harry would mean that the previous me would have been wrong about never liking him. Kissing Harry would make me the biggest hypocrite in town.

And I was not a hypocrite.

...