Play Date // h.s. (REVISING)

5.

I'll admit, eating breakfast with Harry was pretty awkward. Almost the entire time, we sat in silence, the only sound being the clinking of metal forks against glass plates. We made small conversation at moments, but the small talk ended after very few words.

I didn't eat too much because I felt nervous around Harry. I didn't want to come off looking like a pig. I ate only a few pieces of bacon and one small pancake that was actually really delicious. Harry had asked me if I wanted more, but I told him no, even though in reality I wanted to eat every bit of what was left.

Afterwards Harry went off to take a shower and I sat on the couch in the living room, cuddled up in a fuzzy blanket while watching one of my favorite cartoons on Netflix.

My eyes may have been glued to the screen, but I couldn't concentrate on anything that was happening. I couldn't stop thinking about Harry and all of his attractive features. But most of all, I couldn't stop thinking about the bulge in his boxers.
I've never seen a male part before, and I realized how true it was when Harry called me innocent. My mom took me out of health class because she felt that learning about sèxual things would only give me ideas and desires, so I knew absolutely nothing about séx other than very few things that my immature friends told me.

While I was in the midst of finishing an episode, Harry came downstairs, his hair dripping wet, and he surprisingly had clothes on. He was wearing a black tee shirt and dark skinny jeans. His feet were covered by a pair of black socks like usual. I nearly flipped out when he sat down beside me with his cold, wet hair.

"Please don't get me wet!" I complained, scooting away from him as quickly as possible.

He chuckled and I looked at him with my eyebrows raised in confusion as to what he found so funny.

"What's funny?" I asked him.

"Nothing. Just what you said." He replied, a smirk still plastered on his face.

"How was it funny?"

"See, you're clearly innocent." He told me, and it wasn't any new information to me, so I let it go this time around.

"Oh god, Harry! Being wet isn't inappropriate!" I punched him on the arm playfully, but it ended up backfiring when he flexed his muscles and my knuckles clashed with his hard biceps. "Hey! That hurt, you know!" I whimpered.

"Hey! Don't punch me then." He mocked me. "I'll tell your mother." He teased, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

"Please don't!" I cried, sure that she would ground me even if it were a joke.

"Then don't hit me, little girl."

"I'm not little."

"Yes you are."

"Oh yeah? Well you're old."

"At least I'm not little."

"I'm not little!" I crossed my arms over my chest, and Harry stuck his tongue out at me. I tried to push him away from me, but he was too strong.

"You can't even push me." He teased, crossing his arms and grinning sheepishly.

"Yes I can!" I assured him, then used all of my arm strength to attempt to move him, but he wouldn't budge.

I tried leaning my back against him and pushing off of the side of the couch with my feet but that didn't work either. All it did was get my back wet thanks to his drenched curls.

"Now I'm wet." I whined, sitting down on the other side of the couch again, as far away from him as possible.

"Stop saying that." He suggested, but the smile on his face only urged me not to take him seriously.

"Why? What's wrong with it?" I asked him, which only made me feel like I was repeating myself.

"I can't tell you. You're too young."

"But I'm seventeen!"

"You're too young, love." He looked over at me, and I nearly melted into a little puddle of butterflies on my spot on the couch.

Harry shifted beside me and cupped my small face with one of his large hands. He examined me for a moment before speaking. "And besides, your mum would be very disappointed with me if I taught her innocent little girl a load of naughty things."

I grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand away from my face. "But I'm not little."

"Yes you are. Don't argue with me." He demanded, and the look on his face told me that maybe I should actually stop. His face was straight now, everything about it was straight.

His lips formed an emotionless line, as did his eyebrows, which rested right above his eyelids, rather than lifted up in happiness. His eyes dulled down, and I automatically recalled the previous night, when he was angry with me for taking the folder.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled, suddenly feeling a bit fearful of the guy sat next to me, who was watching my every emotion, every emotion which faded just as quick as his facial expression did.

"You're scared." He said, and I instantly shook my head, denying the fact that I was a little afraid.

"No, no I'm not. You just look mad and I'm unsure why." I denied his observation, and opposed from it with only a fact.

Harry grabbed my wrist and gripped it as he had done before. "Your pulse spiked, your eyes filled with worry, and your cheeks reddened. You're scared. Why?"

"I'm not scared."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm only a little scared because I don't want you to be mad at me." I mumbled, and Harry sighed.

His hand cupped my face once again, and I grabbed his wrist to move it, but he kept it there, not allowing me to pull away. "I'm not mad at you."

Harry looked into my eyes and thought for a short moment. His plump lips planted a kiss on my forehead, which only caused me to blush and feel a tingling sensation throughout my entire body, even in places I didn't know I could feel that feeling.

"You're my little girl now and I must take care of you."

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A/N
Hhhhhh ♡
It was really cute though, I think. I'm really proud and I hope you guys enjoyed it just as much as I did.
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