chapter twenty-six

THE SOUND OF a phone ringing caused my eyes to peel open, still heavy from sleep. I was on my side, my face smooshed into the pillow with Harry behind me, his front to my back with his arm draped over me. I closed my eyes back, not ready to wake up. His phone rang a few more times before I heard him groan quietly, removing his arm from my waist to answer it. He was laying on his back now, but his other arm was still under my neck.

I realized I was more so cuddling his arm than the pillow.

"Good morning--er, afternoon--Mum."

He still sounded sleepy, but there was an underlying giddiness in his groggy voice. He who hardly ever spoke of his family, though he had told me why. It was hard to be away from them, then recall memories when they're so far away. I could understand that well. Nathan had been gone for nearly seven years in the army. When relatives spoke of him at holidays and cookouts, I'd always leave the room.

"A new kitten, eh? Tell me it has a reasonable name, at least." He was trying to be quiet yet speak normally simultaneously. "Puff? Did you call Gemma to help you with that?...You can't just name a cat Puff...Okay...Okay, I'm sorry...Mum, I'm sorry for hating on your kitten, yeah?"

I couldn't help but giggle a little. The bed creaked as Harry leaned my way, but my eyes were still closed.

"I miss you a lot," he murmured quietly. "...You know I'd be there if I could..."

Harry assured her he would fly home whenever he was able, and they chatted a bit more before bidding a loving goodbye. When he hung up, I heard his phone clatter on the nightstand before he shifted, his arm falling over my middle once more. His chin was on my shoulder, and he pressed a light kiss on my jaw, making my stomach flutter.

"Sorry I woke you," he whispered.

"Shh, I'm sleeping."

"I didn't know you talked in your sleep."

"It's a skill which requires very much finesse."

"I can imagine."

Mustering the motivation to move, I turned over to face him, his hands clasping behind my back. He smiled, his eyes looking a bit tired. I kissed his smile, not being able to hold back one of my own. After a few passionate moments, we pulled away and I scooted back some.

"So," I started, "what are you making me for breakfast?"

He raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised at first. Obviously, because I don't exactly eat like a normal person. But he masked his shock with a teasing reply. "Oh, really? Do I have 'servant' written across my forehead?"

"No, but you do in your heart," I said, poking his t-shirt.

He rolled his eyes, then hummed thoughtfully. "I've got pancake mixture, and some orange juice. I might even have some bacon in the depths of my freezer... hopefully it's still good."

"You had me at 'pancake.'"

"Well, then get up, you lazy bum."

"You've gotta let me go first."

"Okay, I take it back. Be a lazy bum for five more minutes."

"How about two?"

"Three?"

"Fine."

Harry tucked me closer. I couldn't decide which was more comfortable--Harry or the actual bed. I'd mistaken part of his arm as a pillow, for Pete's sake. Not to mention he was warm and woke up just looking all cuddly.

"Harry," I whispered, like I was about to share a big secret.

"Yeah?" he mocked teasingly.

"I have to pee."

He groaned playfully. "You can't hold it for two and a half more minutes?"

"I've been holding it all night," I remarked.

"Alright, well, then you owe me two and a half minutes of cuddle time."

"Are you holding me to that?"

"Was that a pun?"

I laughed, wiggling out of his grasp before reluctantly standing up. It was nice to be laying down, but I did have to pee and I felt like I should be doing something. I wasn't all that hungry, but making breakfast with Harry sounded nice. If it'd put a smile on his face, I'd eat the pancakes and the maybe-expired-bacon. Or try to, at least.

Harry was in the kitchen already when I came out of the bathroom. He was reaching in a top cabinet for the mixture. He pointed to where the bowls were so I could retrieve one, then to the pans. He lined up the ingredients on the counter, then double checked the measuring tools and the size we were supposed to make them.

"Don't be so uptight. They're just pancakes," I said with an amused grin.

"That doesn't mean I want to screw them up," he replied.

"Okay, I'll give you that." I pointed at the instructions on the mixture bag. "But it's not that hard to read, Harold."

"Again with the Harold?"

"It sounded right for the moment."

Harry shook his head, smiling. "How about you just lead the cooking and I'll be the--what's the chef's assistant's name--lou chef?"

I gave him a look, bumping him with my hip. "Sous chef, brilliance."

"At least I rhymed. Close enough."

Harry whisked the batter while I dumped the ingredients in one by one. Grabbing a spoon, I poured the batter in the hot pan as evenly as I could, making sure to keep them at a fair distance from each other. The smell of the pancakes made me start rethinking my decision on being hungry. My stomach started churning yet my mouth watered, and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to eat at all. I started getting frustrated with myself at that point. I'd woken up ready to eat yet the smell of the food nauseated me to no end.

I frowned to myself, eyebrows furrowing as I flipped the pancakes. This was excruciatingly aggravating. How could something so normal turn to be so hard? Eating wasn't supposed to be a challenge. It wasn't supposed to twist your gut and close your throat. The sight, the smell, the texture... it was all far too much for me now.

I hated it.

"Aha!" exclaimed Harry, but my eyes were too narrowed on the pancakes to glance over at him. "I knew I had some bacon. Unfortunately, I also assumed it'd be expired... Can't believe it's been in there for six months."

I pursed my lips, taking the pancakes off the pan before scooping more batter into it. I hadn't realized my hands were shaking until I dropped the spoon, my finger knocking against the scorching skillet. I hissed, pulling my hand back and instinctively sticking the tip of my finger in my mouth.

"Delilah, are you okay?" Harry asked, a bit panicked as he switched on the sink. He ushered me over to it and I set my finger under the cold water.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, still a bit stuck in my thoughts. "The spoon just slipped."

"You're shaking."

"I'm fine," I repeated.

Harry stared at me while I twirled my finger in the water, coating it all over. The burning subsided but there would no doubt be a blister. The stove was on medium heat, but it'd been on for quite a while. Harry moved over to turn it off so the pancakes in the pan wouldn't burn, then he came back over to me.

"Let me see." He didn't exactly give me a choice, grabbing my hand gently to inspect the damage. He pressed a soft kiss to top of my finger where the burn was. "It's a good thing you've got quick reflexes..."

He turned the water off and I dried my hand, holding the towel on it for a few moments. Harry leaned his hip into the counter, any teasing look in his eyes now gone. I averted my gaze from him, focusing instead on my injury.

"Delilah..." He trailed off, seeming unsure of what to say.

"I wasn't paying attention," I told him. "I zoned out, that's all."

"I don't have to tell you that you can talk to me. You should know that by now," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

Leaning into him, I hesitated before sighing. "I just... don't have much of an appetite anymore."

He frowned, but said kindly, "Well, you said yesterday you'd help me clean off my door. That's another reason why you stayed last night. We could go do that, and maybe you'll work up an appetite after."

I nodded, hoping he was right. It was my idea to make pancakes after all. I'd feel bad if we never ended up eating them. We covered the ones we'd already made with plastic wrap, and Harry went to gather cleaning supplies from his hall closet while I changed back into my clothes from the yesterday.

***

"Someone stole my Microsoft Office. I swear I'll track them down. You have my word."

"Hmm, you're excelling with your puns."

"The thief has made me change my outlook on things."

"You shouldn't have given them access to your things."

I bit my lip, dipping the sponge in the soapy water to continue cleaning Harry's front door. "These puns don't work for me anymore."

"Maybe we could try country puns. When someone asked me what was so great about Switzerland, I told them the flag is a big plus."

"Country puns are usually great, but that one Israeli lame."

Harry shrugged, drying the spot I just cleaned. "I saw a chance, so Iran with it. I'm down to tell more if Europe to it."

I snorted. "I can think of a Brazilian reasons for why you shouldn't."

"I Belize it's time to end these puns. I don't think I'll be able to speak normally after this."

"If USA so."

Harry smirked, glancing over at me. "That was a good way to end it. I salute you."

I wiggled my eyebrows, grinning. "I don't look up puns in my spare time for nothing." Then I frowned. "How long have been making puns?"

"Since we got out here, which was nearly a half hour ago," he said, seeming amused as he chuckled.

"You'd think we'd be done by now... She got a little carried away." My frown deepened as I read over another harsh word. I scrubbed a little harder, feeling a pang of pity for Harry. "Why didn't you try for a restraining order sooner?"

Harry let out a sigh. "She was never like that. Not even when we first broke up. I don't know what's gotten into her."

"She said yesterday it was because you were with me," I murmured, deflating a bit.

"Like her opinion matters," said Harry. "I'm sorry if you're that unhappy to be with me, Delilah, but you aren't getting rid of me any time soon." He poked my nose with his soapy finger teasingly.

I rolled my eyes, wiping it off. "That's not what I meant."

"I know, but the meaning behind the words is still there."

Quickly, I took my drenched rag and rubbed it on his cheek. He looked at me with wide eyes flickering with a wicked playfulness. I barely had time to duck as he tossed his rag at me, but when I straightened back up, he had the half-full bucket in his hands, his eyebrows raised warningly.

"Harry, you know you don't want to do that," I reasoned, holding my hands out as if that would help.

"It's very tempting," he laughed, acting like he was going to throw it but then didn't.

I still didn't let my guard down, not yet. "Put the bucket down, Harry."

"Hmm..."

"That's it... easy... Ah! Harold!"

The upper half of my body was dripping wet, my t-shirt sticking to my skin. The splash hit right under my chin, leaving the bottom length of my hair equally drenched with soapy water. The shock faded soon enough and I grabbed my bucket, chunking the water onto him. He'd lowered his head, so the whole top of it was now matted and his shirt now clung to him.

Considering it was white material, it wasn't exactly a bad view.

I was grateful for my dark shirt, but it still felt like I had rolls on my rolls showing. I picked at the cloth begrudgingly, feeling immensely self-conscious. I grabbed the hem of it and held it out some to try and keep it off my skin. While I was tugging at the shirt this way and that, I hadn't noticed Harry had stepped closer until he grabbed my wrists.

"I wish you believed me when I tell you how beautiful you are," he said quietly, not seeming to mind that water was dripping onto his face.

I frowned, my eyebrows knitting together. "I wish I did too."

He was quiet for a moment before he rid of the tension with his playfulness. "I'd kiss your forehead, but I'm afraid it might taste soapy."

"I'd say soap looks good on you but I promised I wouldn't lie to you anymore," I joked.

He feigned mock hurt with his hand to his chest. "Delilah, I'm appalled by your cruelty."

I chuckled, shaking my head. Harry caught my face in his hands, wiping soap off my lips with his thumb before replacing it with his own. I swear I felt lighter just by his kiss, almost like my feet would lift off the ground at any moment. There was something so gentle about it yet passionate all the same. I couldn't get enough, and it made me wonder even more how Nicole could've let someone this incredible go.

No wonder she went crazy.

When he pulled away, it dawned on me that we were both still drenched. I poked him in the chest. "Nice going, Styles. These are my only clothes."

He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Don't even," I said, stopping him before he could open his mouth to make a flirtatious remark.

He laughed. "I wasn't going to."

"We're not supposed to lie to each other, mister."

"Okay, fine, I was going to."

I glanced over at his door which was now clean, aside from the soap still dripping down it. "We should probably dry the door so the soap doesn't."

"Alright. And after that, how about you switch into my clothes again and we finish those pancakes?"

My eyes met his, so bright and green and impossible to resist. I mustered a smile and nodded. "We're great at making plans."

He gave me a high five. "The best."

"I think your dorkiness is rubbing off on me. We actually just high-fived."

"Should we have high-foured?"

"Start drying the door, Harry."

"Yes, ma'am."

I found myself yet again asking how such a person could be real. I wasn't complaining, though, because this fool was mine. If his immaturity was rubbing off on me, it would be okay as long as I could be his fool too.

(the official playlist for this book is now posted! you can find it after the disclaimer <3 also, tysm for 21k followers like holy cheese y'all. i won't get too corny, but i can't thank you enough for all the love & support you've given me <33333)