Even If It Hurts -H.S. AU

11

I wake up face down on the bed, my head pounding slightly and I groan. I stretch my legs out and slowly open my eyes, waiting for my vision to come into focus. My stomach drops when the blurriness subsides and I look around the unfamiliar room.

Where the fuck am I?

I sit up straight and look around for anything that could tell me whose bed I'm in, but there's nothing. No pictures, no personal belongings out, and the covers on the opposite side of the bed are still neatly tucked.

I spot my dress on the floor and my eyes fly up to the suit jacket slung messily over the chair in the corner of the room. I look down at myself and see I'm in someone else's clothes, a little relieved that I'm not naked at least.

I grab the fabric of the T-shirt covering me, which obviously belongs to a man, and hesitantly pull it up to my nose. The unmistakeable scent of cedar and musk fills my head and I exhale in relief. Harry.

Wait.

What the fuck am I doing in his clothes, and in his bed?

I rip the covers off of me and stand up, pausing for a second when my head spins from the sudden movement. I walk toward the door and cautiously pull it open. I don't hear any sound, like someone moving around, so I quietly walk out into the hallway.

I'm assuming I'm in his apartment, the penthouse at the top of the hotel. I make it to the end of the hall, but it's almost completely dark in here, the shutters pulled tight over the wall of windows in the living room to block out any light. I hear soft breathing coming from the couch, so I tip toe across the wood floor to peek over the back of it.

Harry is sprawled out on the black leather, a pillow under his head with a blanket half on him and half spilling over the side onto the floor.

What the fuck happened last night?

Fear fills me when I realize I don't remember much past asking Harry to dance. Bits and pieces start coming back to me when I look at him again.

I remember his hands on me, and him whispering something in my ear. I remember leaving with him and resting my head on his shoulder. I remember leaning up against him in the elevator as he took us to his apartment. I remember him picking me up to take me to his bedroom.

Oh my god.

I walk over to the blinds covering the window and rip them open. The sound of metal scraping, plus the light pouring in the room wakes Harry. He inhales sharply and his eyes fly open, landing on me immediately. He sits up and rubs his bloodshot eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What the fuck are you-"

"What happened last night?" I ask, cutting him off.

"What do you mean?" He snaps back, obviously pissed off that I woke him up.

"Why am I in your clothes, Harry?" I ask, the panic rising in my chest evident in my voice. "Why was I in your bed?"

He stares at me for a second, and I watch as he puts it together in his head. His eyes widen when he realizes what I'm asking and he shakes his head.

"No, no...nothing happened, Violet."

I nod my head, believing him, but fist his shirt I'm wearing in my hand, clutching at my chest. I take deep breaths, trying to keep my anxiousness at bay. I watch him as he grabs a shirt off the back of the couch and slips it over his head. My eyes fall to the familiar ferns on his hips and I have to turn away to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks.