Chapter 3: Morning After
I woke to warmth. That was the first thing I registered. Warmth and weight and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat beneath my cheek. The second thing was the smell—citrus and something woodier underneath, tangled with the familiar scent of old pizza and fabric softener. Harry's room. Harry's bed. Harry's chest rising and falling beneath my hand.
The sun was pouring through the blinds in long, golden stripes, painting the messy room in bars of light and shadow. Dust motes danced in the beams. A soccer trophy caught the light, glinting like something precious. I could hear birds outside, distant and unconcerned, and the faint hum of a lawnmower somewhere across campus.
I lifted my head carefully. Harry was still asleep, his face slack and peaceful, lips parted slightly. The morning light caught the gold in his curls, made them look like spun copper against the pillow. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm. One arm was draped across my waist, heavy and possessive even in sleep.
I watched him for a long moment, memorizing the details I'd never allowed myself to notice before. The faint scar above his left eyebrow—from a childhood bike accident, he'd told me once, years ago. The small mole on his jaw. The way his eyelashes fanned against his cheekbones, longer than any man's should reasonably be.
He was beautiful. He'd always been beautiful, and I'd always told myself it didn't matter. That pretty boys with easy smiles and easier charm weren't worth my time. That I was above all that.
But lying here, naked and warm in his bed, I wasn't so sure anymore.
His eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, he just looked at me, sleepy and unfocused. Then recognition dawned. His lips curved into a slow smile that made something in my chest tighten.
"Hey," he said, voice rough with sleep.
"Hey."
"You're still here."
I arched an eyebrow. "Did you think I'd sneak out?"
"I didn't know." His hand moved on my back, fingers tracing lazy circles against my skin. "I figured I might've dreamed it."
"Dreamed what?"
"All of it." His smile softened. "The rain. The bleachers. You, telling me to prove it."
"And have I?"
He blinked. "Have you what?"
"Proven it."
He laughed, low and warm. The sound vibrated through his chest, through me. "It's been seven hours, Nikki. Give me a little time."
"Seven hours and one round of mind-blowing sex," I corrected. "That's a pretty solid start."
"Mind-blowing, huh?"
"Don't let it go to your head."
"Too late." He rolled onto his side, facing me properly. His hand found my hip, thumb tracing the curve of my waist. "It's already there. I'm insufferable now."
"You were already insufferable."
"True." He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "But now I'm insufferable and smug."
I snorted. Pushed at his chest. He didn't move.
"You're impossible," I said.
"And yet here you are. Naked. In my bed."
"Don't sound so pleased about it."
"I can't help it." His hand slid lower, fingers skimming over my ass. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever woken up to."
"Harry."
"I mean it." His eyes met mine, suddenly serious. "I've imagined this a thousand times. Waking up next to you. Having you in my arms. And it's still better than I ever pictured."
I didn't know what to say to that. The words sat in my chest, heavy and warm, and I couldn't quite find my voice.
He kissed me. Slow and deep, like we had all the time in the world. His lips moved against mine, soft and searching, and I felt the heat bloom low in my belly.
His hand found my thigh. Slid higher. I gasped against his mouth as his fingers brushed my already-wet folds.
"Already ready for me?" he murmured.
"Shut up."
He laughed, but he kissed me again. His fingers circled my clit, slow and teasing, and I pressed my thighs together, trapping his hand.
"Harry."
"Nikki."
"I need you."
"Where?" He nipped at my bottom lip. "Tell me where you need me."
"Inside me." I reached down, wrapped my hand around his already-hard cock. "I need you inside me."
He groaned, hips bucking into my grip. "Fuck, Nikki. When you say shit like that—"
"What?" I stroked him slowly. "What does it do to you?"
"It makes me want to fuck you until you can't remember your own name."
"Then do it."
I rolled onto my back, pulling him with me. He settled between my legs, and I felt him pressing against my entrance, hot and ready.
"Look at me," he said.
I did. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. He held my gaze as he pushed inside me, inch by agonizing inch.
We both moaned. His forehead dropped to mine, breath ragged.
"Fuck, Nikki. You feel so good."
"Move," I gasped. "Please."
He did. Slow at first, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in. Each stroke was deliberate, measured. He was watching me, watching my face contort with pleasure.
"Faster," I demanded.
He shook his head. "Not yet. I want to savor this."
"Harry—"
"Shh." He kissed me, soft and sweet. "Let me take care of you."
His hand slid between us. His thumb found my clit, circling in time with his thrusts. I moaned, arching into him, and he deepened the angle.
"That's it," he murmured. "Take what you need."
I did. I took and I took, riding the edge of pleasure as he fucked me slow and deep. The pressure built, coiling in my belly, and I clawed at his back, desperate for more.
"Feel so good," I panted. "Don't stop. Don't you fucking stop."
He didn't. He drove into me harder, faster, his thumb working my clit relentlessly.
"Come for me," he gritted out. "Come on, baby. I want to feel you."
I shattered. My orgasm crashed through me, white-hot and overwhelming, and I cried out his name as my walls clenched around him.
He followed seconds later, burying himself deep with a guttural groan, spilling into me as his body shuddered against mine.
For a long moment, we just lay there. Breathing. Coming back to ourselves.
Harry was the first to move. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then my nose, then my lips.
"Good morning," he said, smiling.
I laughed, breathless. "Good morning."
He rolled off me, pulling me with him, and I settled against his chest. His heart beat steady beneath my ear. His hand traced lazy patterns on my back.
"We should probably talk," I said.
"Probably." He didn't sound enthusiastic about it.
"About what this is."
Harry was quiet for a moment. Then he sighed. "Is it okay if I don't have the answers right now?"
I lifted my head to look at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—" He ran a hand through his curls, disheveling them further. "I've wanted you for so long, Nikki. And now you're here, and I don't want to mess it up by saying the wrong thing."
"Harry."
"I know I'm not good at this. At feelings. At talking." He looked at me, earnest and vulnerable. "But I'm trying. I want to try. For you."
I studied his face. Looked for the lie, the evasion, the easy charm he always hid behind. I found none of it. Just a boy looking at me like I was something precious.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay?"
"Okay, we can take it slow. Figure it out as we go."
A smile spread across his face, brighter than the morning sun. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kissed me again. Quick and joyful.
"Now," I said, pushing at his chest, "get up. I need a shower."
He grinned. "I could join you."
"You could." I slid out of bed, letting the sheet fall away from my body. His eyes followed me, dark with appreciation. "But the shower's small. We'd be very close."
"I'm not seeing the problem."
I laughed, shaking my head. "You're incorrigible."
"I'm in love." He said it so casually, so easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then he froze, realizing what he'd said.
I froze too.
The words hung in the air between us, heavy and fragile.
"Nikki, I—" He started, then stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to say that. I mean, I meant it, but I didn't mean to say it like that. Not yet. Not when we're—"
"Harry."
He stopped.
"Don't take it back."
His eyes searched mine. "You're not—"
"I'm not running." I crossed back to the bed, sat down beside him. "I'm not scared. Well, I'm terrified, but I'm not running."
He let out a shaky breath. "That's more than I hoped for."
"Well." I leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth. "I'm full of surprises."
He caught my chin between his fingers, held my gaze. "I love you, Nikki. I've loved you for years. I know it's too fast, I know we have a thousand things to figure out, but I needed you to know."
"I know." I pressed my forehead to his. "I know you do."
"Do you feel the same?"
The question hung between us. I thought about it. About all the years I'd dismissed him, written him off as a charming fool. About the way he'd looked at me on the bleachers, soaked and desperate and utterly sincere. About the way his hands shook when he touched me.
"I don't know yet," I admitted. "I think I could. I think I'm starting to."
"That's enough." He kissed me, soft and tender. "That's more than enough."
We stayed there a moment longer, tangled in the morning light. Then my stomach growled, loud and embarrassing.
Harry laughed. "Hungry?"
"Starving."
"Let's get you breakfast, then."
He found a t-shirt on the floor and tossed it to me. It was soft and worn, and it smelled like him. I pulled it over my head, and it fell to mid-thigh.
"You're wearing my clothes," he said, that smile back on his face. "I'm never washing that shirt again."
"You're an idiot."
"Your idiot."
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. He pulled on a pair of boxers and led me out of the room.
The hallway was quiet, but the sounds of the house filtered up from downstairs. Laughter. The clatter of dishes. Someone's voice raised in what sounded like a debate about football.
We walked down the stairs together, my hand in his. The kitchen was chaotic when we entered—Niall at the stove, Liam at the counter, Louis sprawled in a chair with a coffee mug. Spencer was there too, sitting at the table with a textbook open in front of her. Hanna was perched on the counter, Emily beside her, Aria tucked into the corner with a sketchbook. Zayn was leaning against the fridge, scrolling through his phone, looking up just as we walked in.
The room went silent.
Louis was the first to speak. "Well, well, well."
"Shut up," Harry said, but there was no heat in it.
"Good morning, Nikki." Spencer's voice was carefully neutral, but her eyes were bright with curiosity.
"Morning."
"That Harry's shirt?"
I looked down at the t-shirt I was wearing. "Maybe."
Hanna let out a whoop. "I KNEW IT. I knew you two would finally get your heads out of your asses."
"Hanna," Emily said, but she was smiling too.
"Don't 'Hanna' me. I've been waiting for this since junior year."
"I don't think that's true," Aria said, looking up from her sketchbook. "You always said they'd kill each other first."
"Same thing."
Niall turned from the stove, spatula in hand. "So, you two are—"
"We're figuring it out," I said.
"That's code for yes but they're not ready to admit it," Louis said.
"Louis." Aria's voice was a warning.
"What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking."
"Leave them alone," Emily said gently. "Let them figure it out."
The room settled back into its rhythm—conversation, laughter, the clatter of breakfast. Niall pressed a plate of pancakes into my hands, and I found a seat at the table. Harry sat beside me, his knee pressed against mine.
It was easy. That was the strangest part. It was easy, sitting there with him, surrounded by our friends. Like this was always where I belonged.
Spencer caught my eye across the table. She smiled, small and knowing, and I felt something warm spread through my chest.
"Looks good on you," she said quietly.
"What does?"
"Being happy."
I looked down at my plate, fighting a smile. "It's only been a day."
"Doesn't matter. I can see it." She shrugged. "I've known you a long time, Nikki. You've been waiting for this longer than you realize."
I didn't have an answer for that. So I just ate my pancakes and let Harry's knee press against mine and let myself, for once, believe that maybe this could work.
Hours later, we ended up back in his room. The sun had shifted, the light now slanted and golden. Harry was sprawled on the bed, shirtless, watching me with half-lidded eyes.
"Come here," he said.
"I'm reading."
"You're always reading."
"Unlike some people, I actually do my coursework."
He laughed. "Nikki. Please."
I set my book aside. Crawled across the bed to him. He caught me, pulling me against his chest.
"I like this," he said, fingers threading through my hair.
"Like what?"
"This. You. Me. Being together."
"Even though I'm insufferable?"
"Especially because you're insufferable." He kissed the top of my head. "You keep me on my toes."
"Someone has to."
His hand slid down my back, over the curve of my ass. "You know what I like even more?"
"What's that?"
"You, in nothing but my shirt." He tugged at the hem. "Take it off."
"What happened to 'let's take it slow'?"
"Taking it slow doesn't mean not taking it at all." He rolled us over, pinning me beneath him. "I want to feel you. Every inch of you."
I reached down, pulled the shirt over my head. He watched me, eyes darkening. His hand slid between my legs, found me already wet.
"Fuck, Nikki. You're so ready for me."
"Then do something about it."
He kissed me, hard and demanding, and I moaned into his mouth. His fingers circled my clit, fast and relentless, and I arched against him.
"Harry—"
"I know, baby." He positioned himself at my entrance. "I've got you."
He pushed inside me, and I gasped at the sudden fullness. He held still for a moment, letting me adjust, then began to move.
Slow. Deep. Each thrust hitting a spot that made my eyes roll back.
"I love watching you fall apart," he murmured. "You're so beautiful when you let go."
"Don't—" I gasped. "Don't stop."
"Never."
He drove into me, harder, faster. The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard knocking against the wall. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper.
"Fuck," I panted. "Right there. Right fucking there."
His fingers found my clit again, working me as he thrust. I was close already, the pressure building fast.
"Come with me," he grunted. "Come on, Nikki. Let go."
I did. My orgasm ripped through me, violent and consuming, and I screamed his name as I came. He followed a moment later, burying himself deep and groaning as he spilled inside me.
We collapsed, tangled and sweaty. His breath was hot against my neck.
"I could get used to this," he said.
"Used to what?"
"Waking you up. Making love to you. Falling asleep and doing it all over again."
"That sounds like a pretty good plan."
He smiled against my skin. "Then that's the plan."
I closed my eyes, letting the warmth wash over me. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something real.
But deep in the back of my mind, a small voice whispered a warning. Kendall was still out there. And the world wasn't always kind to people who dared to be happy.
I pushed the thought away. Later. I'd deal with it later.
For now, I was happy. For now, I was here, in Harry's arms, and that was enough.
For now, I was here, in Harry's arms, and that was enough.
But even as I thought it, something restless stirred in my chest. A familiar unease that I'd learned to recognize over the years. The quiet before the storm. The itch beneath the skin that always came before everything fell apart.
I pushed it down. Buried it beneath the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the way his fingers traced lazy patterns on my spine. I wanted to stay in this moment. I wanted to believe it could last.
Harry shifted beneath me, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my head. "You're thinking too loud."
"I'm always thinking too loud."
"Tell me." He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. "What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"
I hesitated. The words sat heavy on my tongue, thick and awkward. "I keep waiting for something to go wrong."
"Something like what?"
"Like this being too good to be true. Like you waking up tomorrow and realizing you made a mistake."
Harry's jaw tightened. His thumb traced the line of my cheekbone, feather-light. "I've been waiting for you since I was sixteen years old, Nikki. Eleven years of wanting you. You think I'm going to wake up tomorrow and decide that was all a mistake?"
"People change their minds."
"Not about this." He kissed me, soft and certain. "Not about you."
A breath escaped me, shaky and uneven. "I want to believe you."
"Then believe me." His hand slid down my back, fingers curling around my hip. "I'll spend every day proving it, if that's what it takes. Every single day, for as long as you'll let me."
I looked at him. At the earnest set of his jaw, the unwavering certainty in his green eyes. He was so sure. So confident in something I still couldn't quite trust.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe I didn't need to trust it yet. Maybe I just needed to let him show me.
I leaned in and kissed him. Not gentle this time. Hungry. Demanding. He responded in kind, rolling us over until I was beneath him again, his body pressed against mine.
"You're insatiable," he murmured against my lips.
"You're the one who keeps propositioning me."
"Can't help it." His mouth trailed down my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "You're addictive."
I arched into him, letting the sensation wash over me. His hands roamed my body, familiar now but still thrilling, finding every spot that made me gasp.
His mouth reached my breast. His tongue circled my nipple, and I moaned, fingers tangling in his curls. He sucked hard, and my hips bucked against him.
"Harry," I breathed. "I need—"
"I know what you need." His hand slid between my legs, fingers finding me slick and ready. "I can feel how much you need it."
He pushed two fingers inside me, and I cried out, back arching off the bed. He worked me slowly, curling his fingers against that spot that made my vision blur.
"Fuck," I gasped. "Right there. Don't stop."
He didn't. His thumb circled my clit as he fucked me with his fingers, relentless and precise. The pressure built fast, coiling in my belly like a spring.
"I want to watch you come," he said, voice rough. "I want to watch you fall apart on my fingers."
The words pushed me over the edge. I shattered, crying out his name as my orgasm crashed through me. He worked me through it, fingers never slowing, until I collapsed trembling beneath him.
He withdrew his hand, brought his fingers to his lips. Sucked them clean, watching me with dark, hungry eyes.
"Delicious," he murmured.
"You're filthy."
"You love it."
I laughed, breathless. "Maybe I do."
He positioned himself at my entrance. "Ready?"
"Always."
He pushed inside me, and I gasped at the fullness. He filled me completely, stretching me in that perfect way, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
"Fuck, Nikki." He dropped his head, breath ragged. "You feel incredible."
"Move," I demanded. "Move, Harry."
He did. Slow and deep, each thrust hitting that spot that made me see stars. His rhythm was measured, deliberate, like he was savoring every moment.
"Faster," I urged.
He shook his head. "Not yet. I want to feel every inch of you."
"Harry—"
"Let me have this." His voice cracked. "Let me have you like this. Slow. Real."
Something in his tone made me stop fighting. Made me surrender to the pace he set. His hips rolled against mine, deep and languid, and I let myself feel it all.
Every inch. Every heartbeat. Every breath.
"I love you," he whispered against my ear. "I've loved you for so long, Nikki. I don't know how to love you any other way."
The words hit me somewhere deep. Somewhere I'd been guarding for years. I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away.
"I know," I whispered back. "I know you do."
His hand found my clit, rubbing in slow circles as he thrust. The pressure built again, faster this time, hotter.
"Come for me," he breathed. "Come on, baby. Let go."
I did. I came hard, walls clenching around him, and he followed with a guttural moan, burying himself deep and spilling into me.
We lay there afterwards, tangled and slick with sweat. His breath was hot against my neck. My heart was still racing.
"Don't ever leave," he murmured. "Please. Don't ever leave me."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. The words were too heavy, too real, and I didn't know if I could promise them.
Instead, I kissed him. Soft and tender. And let the silence say what I couldn't.
The days that followed were easy in a way I hadn't expected. We fell into a rhythm—morning coffee, classes, lunch together in the quad, practices on the field where I'd sit in the bleachers and watch him run drills. His teammates got used to seeing me there. Niall would wave. Louis would whistle. Harry would look up and catch my eye, and that smile would spread across his face like the sun coming out.
I started leaving things at his room. A book on his nightstand. A toothbrush in his bathroom. A change of clothes in his closet. Small tokens of a presence that was becoming permanent.
My friends noticed.
"You're glowing," Hanna said one afternoon, catching me in the hallway between classes. "Literally glowing. It's disgusting."
"I'm not glowing."
"You are. You've got that post-sex, I'm-getting-laid-regularly glow. It's all over your face."
"Hanna."
"I'm happy for you, bitch. Really." She hugged me, fierce and quick. "Just make sure he treats you right."
"He does."
"Good." She pulled back, eyes serious. "Because if he doesn't, I'll cut him."
"I know you will."
She grinned. "That's what best friends are for."
Spencer was more measured when she brought it up, cornering me in the library a few days later.
"So. You and Harry."
"Me and Harry."
"That's serious?"
"I don't know what it is yet." I closed my book, gave her my full attention. "But it's good. It's really good."
She studied me for a long moment. "You deserve that, you know. After everything with Kendall, after everything you've been through—you deserve to be happy."
"Thanks, Spence."
"Just be careful." Her voice was soft, but the warning was clear. "You fall hard, Nikki. And when you fall, you fall all the way."
"I know."
"I'm not saying don't. I'm just saying—guard your heart a little. At least until you're sure."
I nodded. The words settled somewhere heavy in my chest, but I pushed them away. Harry was different. I could feel it.
Maybe that was the problem.
On Friday night, the frat house threw another party. It was louder than the last one, packed with bodies and bass and the smell of cheap beer. I found Harry in the kitchen, laughing at something Louis had said.
"Hey," I said, sliding up beside him.
"Hey, you." He kissed me, quick and warm. "You look incredible."
"Flattery will get you everywhere."
"That's the plan."
I laughed, taking the cup he offered. The night blurred into a haze of music and dancing and Harry's hand on my lower back, guiding me through the crowd.
I was happy. Genuinely, stupidly happy, in a way I hadn't let myself feel in years.
And then Kendall walked in.
She was with a group of girls I didn't recognize, all of them dressed in matching crop tops and too much eyeliner. She spotted me immediately, and a slow smile spread across her face.
"Nikki." Her voice cut through the noise like a knife. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Kendall."
We stared at each other. The air between us crackled with tension.