As I stare down at my phone, reading and rereading Gabrielle's text message, I wrack my brain for any discussion I have had with Harry during which he may have said anything about his formal event. Sadly though, nothing comes to mind. Harry has never mentioned a dance or even the fact that he would be going out of town next weekend. I don't know much about Greek life at a school like mine, but I do know that fraternity formals are an entire weekend spent out of town, alone in a hotel room with your date. And since Harry is the president of his fraternity, there is no doubt in my mind that Harry is required to go. If that's true, as I suspect it is, then Harry is either deliberately not inviting me and going by himself, or he is taking someone else. I honestly don't know which is worse.

Sighing in frustration, I decide to take a shower. That way, if Harry walks in here, I don't have to talk to him. Obviously, I want to confront him about this, but I really just don't know how to go about doing it. I mean, Harry is having problems with his mom right now, and I'm sitting here worrying about a stupid formal dance that Harry didn't invite me to. What if I make a huge deal of it and he tells me that he just hasn't gotten around to asking me yet? Well, then I'd be an idiot who overreacts to the smallest doubt that comes to my mind. But what if he never asks me and never even tells me about it? Well, then I think I we would have something very serious to discuss.

Leaving my phone on my bed without replying to Gabrielle, I toss my clothes aside and step into the steaming hot shower. As the nearly scalding water cascades over my shoulders, I feel some of the pent-up tension melt away, but despite however relaxed my body might feel, my mind is far from it.

I was literally about to give Harry a blowjob for the first time, and I was kind of excited about it. I wanted to see him above me, completely surrendered to the influence of my touch. I wanted to see him come closer and closer to his point of release as my tongue teased him and pulled him to the edge. I wanted to see his eyes on me as I pleasured him, but now I don't know if I'll get to. Right now, I certainly don't want to anymore; I'm too focused on the fact that Harry has kept this thing from me to even think about doing anything sexual with him.

Fuck you, Harry, for ruining my otherwise delightful mood. And fuck Gabrielle for texting me so late on Thanksgiving. Not really, though. I know it isn't her fault. She was just asking about a dress. Harry and his secrets are the reason for my reestablished paranoia, and there is no one to blame but him.

Probably twenty minutes pass before I realize just how long I have been in the shower. I just can't get those pesky thoughts out of my mind telling me that Harry is hiding this from me intentionally. My irrationality even goes so far as to suggest that this is only the beginning of something bigger.

That's stupid, I tell myself. It's just a dance. I shouldn't make this out to be more than it is.

Sighing to myself, I shut the water off and step out onto the tile. To my annoyance, I seem to have forgotten my towel in my room, so I try to squeeze the water from my hair before opening the bathroom door and stepping out onto the carpet. Spotting my towel on the bed, I walk quickly towards it, trying not to drip too much water on the floor.

However, to my horror, before I can even pick it up, I am stunned to hear Harry's voice from behind me, "Hey Cam, is this picture–"

Harry stops mid-question, I assume as he sees me standing in front of him completely naked and still dripping at from my shower. With my heart pounding, I snatch the towel from the bed and scramble to cover myself before turning around to glare at Harry. I know there's no way he could have known that I forgot my towel, but I'm already so frustrated with him that this only makes things worse.

"Harry, what are you doing in here?" I spit, looking at him harshly as he stares at me in a stunned silence. His green eyes are wide with surprise and he seems to be unable to tear them away from me. If I weren't mad as fuck right now, I'd understand his point of view, but alas, I am angry so his blatant stare is irritating me even more.

"Hey!" I snap, securing the towel tightly across my chest, "Eyes up here. What are you doing in here?"

Harry blinks several times as he forces his eyes quickly up to my face, his bewildered expression revealing how truly panicked he is right now. Harry opens his mouth to speak several times before gently setting the picture frame he is holding on the dresser and looking to me once more.

"I, um, well, you said to–" Harry stutters then trails off, unsure of how to proceed in this conversation.

The way he looks so innocently at me only makes me even more upset. I don't care that he's seen me naked; that's not the problem. The problem is that now that he's standing here in front of me looking like an innocent little puppy when I know he's keeping secrets from me. I get that we've only just started dating officially like a week ago, and I shouldn't know everything that goes on in his life, but I have been one of his closest companions in the last two months, so frankly, I'm a little upset that he didn't think to mention anything about a dance. And the fact that he looks so pure and innocent right now in front of me makes me even angrier, because had Gabrielle not texted me, I would never have even thought that he was hiding anything. It makes me wonder what else he might be hiding from me.

No, I remind myself. Don't overreact. Just tell him what you're thinking.

I sigh deeply, trying to clear away all the paranoid, irrational thoughts from racing mind. I need to just ask him calmly about this; surely, he has a valid explanation.

Harry notices that I'm trying to think of something to say, and he seems to think that he knows exactly what is troubling me, "Cam, I'm sorry. I didn't realize– I should have waited outside. I'm sorry."

Wrong.

But I appreciate it, I guess.

Harry smiles weakly at me before striding towards the door, "I'll just, uh, let you get dressed. Sorry, again."

Rolling my eyes in frustration as Harry shuts the door behind him, I quickly dry myself and pull on the least sexy-looking pajamas I own. If these fuzzy Gryffindor pajama pants don't turn him off, I don't know what will. Hell, looking at myself in them even turns me off. Not that I'm still in the mood; Gabrielle's text already did enough to put an end to that.

Resolving to discuss this thing with Harry like an adult, I open the door and walk over to my bed, As I sit on the edge and wait for Harry to return, Harry steps inside and leans against the doorframe, apparently embarrassed.

Bruh, I should be the embarrassed one.

It's silent between us for several moments, but then Harry speaks up, his voice seemingly urgent, "Cam, I really am sorry."

I unintentionally scoff at Harry's apology to which he responds by looking at me skeptically with a raised brow, "What?"

Shaking my head at him, I scoot back on my mattress and cross my legs in front of me, "Harry, I'm not mad that you saw me naked. I mean, it was unexpected, but it's not like you did it on purpose. And besides," I shrug. "I was about to strip you naked, so it would be unfair for me to hide from you."

"Oh... well, in that case..," Harry mumbles, forgetting my obvious display of frustration as a small smirk creeps its way onto his lips. I swear, if he's thinking about me naked right now, I'm going to smack him. I mean, I get it because he got a fantastic glimpse of my tits, but we have more important things to discuss.

As I am about to bring up my worrying thoughts, Harry shuts the door and walks over to me, a look of sparked interest glimmering in his eyes. Fuck, he looks hot. He begins unbuttoning his shirt, and I can't help but begin thinking about the naughty things I want to do to him.

Shut up, Camryn. You're supposed to be mad.

Harry tosses his shirt to the floor and my eyes can't seem to find anything else to stare at aside from his bare chest. The way his muscles strain underneath his inked skin drives away all of my rational thought, and I really do begin to think that maybe my confrontation can wait.

No, don't be weak, I scold myself. Find an excuse to make him back off.

Harry reaches my bed and stands above me, looking like an actual Greek god or some shit. I would be intimidated, but my Gryffindor pants are doing a great job at hiding all my assets so I really have nothing to be insecure about at the moment. Smirking mischievously at me, Harry bends down and grips my hips, pulling me close to the edge of the bed. My legs fall over the edge so that Harry is now standing between them, still grinning like nothing at all in the world is wrong. I guess he and his mom had a pleasant conversation.

Oh shit, his mom. What happened during that phone call? I'm still mad about the dance thing, but I can at least use this topic as a good way to begin to address it.

Harry leans forward to kiss me, but I press my fingers against his lips in protest, "Wait, tell me what your mom said."

Huffing in annoyance, Harry stands up and appears to be pathetically disappointed. As he crosses his arms over his broad chest, Harry shrugs nonchalantly, "Not much. I apologized and she cried some, but everything is okay now."

Dismissing the conversation, Harry once again begins to resume what we started earlier and I can't help but look at him in confusion. There are just so many thoughts swirling around in my brain right now that I can hardly focus on one of them entirely.

The first of these troubling topics is obviously Harry's lack of invitation to his formal. The second of these is how fucking hot he is being right now, because it's really proving to be a problem. I can't even be mad at him without getting distracted by that stupid v-line on his hips. And the third is the confusion I feel due to the fact that no less than a week ago, Harry was literally telling me that he wanted to take things slow, and now he's shirtless and practically begging for there to be some type of sexual interaction between us.

Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered and obviously, I would like to take part in this with him; however, his seemingly contradictory actions are really conflicting me. Do I concede and allow this to happen, or do I force him to hold true to what he has claimed to want? But more than that, fuck what he wants. What do I want? I know that if Harry makes the move to have some type of sex tonight, that I will most likely agree whether I have actually thought it through or not. I'm just so physically and emotionally attracted to him that I really just don't see a downside.

On the other hand though, I kind of want the person I lose my virginity to, to be someone who I love. And I don't know if he's thinking to go all the way right now, but given that we're alone together in this room, I probably should consider all the possibilities. I definitely care about Harry more than I ever have cared about someone before, but I don't know if I would go so far as to use the word "love." Frankly, the idea of declaring my love for someone terrifies me, so I don't know how long it will take for me to reach that point.

I do know one thing though, if I cave and do whatever it is Harry is hoping to do, I will most likely regret it given the conversation we must inevitably have. I didn't think of it before, but what if this thing about Harry's formal is just the tip of an iceberg containing much more problematic issues? What if those issues are bad enough to make things end between us? What then?

That's it, I decide. Nothing can happen, not when I'm so hurt and confused and angry. That would be a mistake.

Harry moves towards me again, and I press my hands against his warm chest to stop him. Though I should be figuring out what to say, I can't help but love the feeling of how his bare skin feels against me. He's just so soft and beautiful, I just don't know how to function anymore.

Focus Camryn. Say what you fucking need to say and stop letting him enchant you.

"Wait, please Harry. Not tonight. Not here," I beg him, looking at him with pleading eyes. That's another thing, I don't think any first time sexual acts with Harry should be performed in my parents house. That could be disastrous.

Harry backs off a little and frowns at my protest, "We could be quiet."

Bruh, what is with his sudden interest in this? He's never begged me for anything like this before. Why now?

Shaking my head in frustration, I try to come up with something that might for real make him back off of me. Oh, I know. I shall bring up the thing all men fear. That'll do it.

"Harry, I want to, believe me. I just– I feel really gross and terrible." I glance away quickly to feign embarrassment, "I know it's disgusting, but I just started my period, and my body feels like it's trying to murder itself. That's why I took a shower."

I look up at Harry and see that his expression has softened tremendously and he is now no longer looking at me like he wants to fuck me over a table. I didn't realize how much I liked that look until now that it's gone. Ha, Cam, you sick fuck.

Again, you're supposed to be mad, I remind myself, ashamed at how distracted I'm getting.

Harry's now gentle demeanor encourages me to push a little further, just to really make him believe the lie that I am telling him. I've never been a great actress, but somehow my anger is fueling me to be very convincing. Shyly bowing my head and crossing my arms over my abdomen, I make sure to sound like I am genuinely very distressed, "I'm so sorry, Harry. This is so embarrassing, I–"

With that, Harry cuts me off and kneels down in front of me, placing both of his hands on either of my pajama-clad thighs, "Hey, no. Don't apologize, Camryn."

Sliding his fingers beneath my chin, Harry lifts my face to look at him and I try with everything in my soul to not break my act. He's being so damn sweet that it really is difficult not to smile like an idiot and forget why the hell I'm even doing this in the first place.

Harry continues, a look of sincere concern upon his face, "Is there anything I can get you? Do you need any Advil? Or ice cream? Girls like that when they're on their period, right?"

Okay, now I feel like a bitch. My plan technically worked, but Harry is being way more considerate of my hypothetical menstruation than I ever thought he would be, so now I feel bad about lying. I mean, the man offered me drugs and ice cream, and he's looking at me like he wants nothing more than to make me feel better. I am legitimately going to cry. Not really, but I still feel terrible about it.

Giggling like a little girl, I tear my eyes away from Harry, partially out of guilt and partially because the affectionate gleam in his eye is making my heart race. How is it that he makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside when I'm supposed to be frustrated with him over his stupid fraternity party?

"I do love ice cream, but that's okay," I smile at Harry, trying to hide my conflicted feelings.

Harry nods and gently squeezes my thighs in his hands, "Did you just want to lay down?"

Shrugging, I bite my bottom lip and decide that I can't possibly yell at Harry while he's being so accommodating to me, regardless of the fact that I feel perfectly fine, "yeah, I think so."

"Do you want me to stay?" Harry asks quietly, a hopeful expression on his face.

I nod, throwing my plan to confront Harry out the window entirely. The thought of Harry holding me in bed against his bare chest is exciting me way too much to even think about any of my paranoid thoughts. Once Harry pulls his jeans off and climbs into the bed with me, I can't even get mad at myself for my weak willpower or the lies I have told him. The way Harry's arms feel snaked around me is simply the most secure sensation I have ever felt in my life, and I really don't give a shit about anything else. When Harry snuggles up behind me and begins lightly kissing the back of my neck, I decide that this conversation can most definitely wait for tomorrow.

I'm going to cherish this feeling with Harry while it lasts; this is too pure of a moment to ruin with more drama. Harry feels too nice, and having a mature conversation about my feelings has always be overrated anyway.

That's probably not a sane thought process, but I really couldn't give a flying fuck about it. Sorry, not sorry.

•••

😬😬 don't worry y'all, the discussion is coming I just need to establish that Cam is a manipulative wimp sometimes ya feel

I have my Arctic Monkeys concert tonight in Nashville I'm going to cry bc I saw the AM tour like four years ago so it's gonna be so fun!

Also, I really do want to thank all of my readers for being so active and amazing! Literally every chapter I post, there are people who comment things that make me laugh and make me feel like I'm actually doing something right and it genuinely makes me feel so encouraged and I really just appreciate y'all so much!! You guys are so nice, I don't deserve it😅 I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please vote if you can! Ily❤️

(Also, my story is ranked like 132 for #harrystyles and that is INSANE THANK YALL SO MUCH)
-kate💖