Could Be Lethal - Part One
“But I'm in so deep You know I'm such a fool for you You've got me wrapped around your finger Do you have to let it linger?”
-Linger by The Cranberries
Hello everyone! I know I said I was done posting for the day, but I decided to put up one more. CBL was easily my most popular fic when I started posting it back in... October? September maybe? I don’t even remember! Either way, I’ve had lots of people ask about it, and I just wanted to say how grateful I am that you all loved it so much. I’m absolutely blown away. Without further ado, please enjoy part one of CBL tonight! I’ll be posting part two tomorrow morning, part three tomorrow night, and part four sometime on Monday. I deleted my blog before ever posting the epilogue, but that will also be coming in the next week or so, so stay tuned! Love you all muchly! 4k words
xoxo Tile
You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?
or
The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.
~~~
From: Harry Styles 11:24PM
Are we sleeping at mine tonight?
As soon as the text lit up your phone screen, you flipped it face down onto the table. You were currently mashed into the corner of a booth at your favorite bar, trying to pay attention to the story one of your friends was telling to you. Every once in a while, you’d glance up and catch Harry’s stare, which would immediately send a familiar tingle down your spine.
“Are you listening to me?” Meredith prodded your arm.
“What? Yes, of course,” you lied, nodding enthusiastically. In reality, there was no way you could focus on anything but Harry’s presence just a few short feet away.
You were surprised that he’d texted you. When you’d first shown up to the bar, you’d spotted him chatting up some random petite blonde on the dance floor, and you’d barely looked his way since, hating the way jealousy tugged at your heartstrings. Even now, with the girl nowhere in sight, you were having a difficult time acknowledging him.
He wasn’t yours to claim, he never had been, but the two of you had started… a routine, for lack of better word. It had started on a night where he offered to drive you home. You’d all been hanging out at Nick’s place, swimming in his pool and drinking chilled wine, and Harry had insisted on giving you a lift since your apartments were so close together. By the time you’d made it to your place, it was dark and he was tired. You offered to let him stay over, which resulted in the two of you cuddling in your twin sized bed.
Nothing else had happened apart from that, but it had felt… good, being that close to another person. Apparently he felt the same way, because more often than not, you wound up drifting off in his arms, sprawled across his chest, listening to his light snores. You hadn’t discussed it at all, but it was starting to affect you in ways you wish it wouldn’t.
To: Harry Styles 11:29PM
yeah
You saw him subtly check his phone in his lap, twisting the screen away from Thomas, the friend sitting next to him, being just as secretive as you. Your friends didn’t need to know that you cuddled on the regular, I mean, how would you even justify that? You weren’t sleeping together, hadn’t even done so much as kiss. It was just your body against his, and his against yours.
You wondered if he hooked up with other girls on the few nights that you hadn’t been able to meet up. Were the hands that traced circles into your back while you slept running over somebody else’s body? His lips, the same ones that brushed along the back of your neck as he held you from behind, had they pressed against another’s in your absence?
From: Harry Styles 11:30PM
sick :)
You flitted your gaze up to meet his once again, rolling your eyes when you saw the slight smirk on his face. He giggled, covering it up with a cough, before looking away once again.
“So Harry,” Jessie, one of your friends on the other end of the booth piped up, “saw you flirting with that girl earlier. You gonna take her home?”
This seemed to gather the attention of the group, as everyone quieted to hear his response. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, looking everywhere but where you were sat. You couldn’t look at him, either, so you stared at your lap instead, picking at a loose thread on your dress.
“Don’t think so, no,” he choked out.
Thomas let out a groan, throwing his head back in exasperation. “Why not mate? Saw her give you her number. If I had a pretty thing like her interested in me, I’d have already done her three times over in the toilet!”
The group all laughed, and even Harry let out a little chuckle, but you could tell he felt uncomfortable.
“I dunno,” he shrugged with faux nonchalance, “I’ve been working a lot lately, don’t really have the energy for that kind of thing.”
You tried to zone out after that, but it was impossible to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest. You could feel Harry looking at you, but you were still too busy playing with the thread on your dress. You only looked up when your phone buzzed harshly against the wooden surface of the table.
From: Harry Styles 11:48PM
I’m ready to leave whenever
You felt relief course through you. You liked seeing everyone and catching up, but you liked being alone with him more. You cleared your throat, sliding your phone into your pocket and clutching the strap of your purse closer.
“Hey guys, I think I’m gonna head out,” you said, putting on your best sad smile as the group groaned and begged you to stay, “I’m just feeling so wiped, was a really long week.”
As you managed to squeeze out of the booth, you made promises to see everyone soon and set up plans. You didn’t feel guilty about bailing so early, especially since you saw this group practically every weekend.
“Think I’m gonna go, too,” you heard Harry say. Another chorus of groans sounded from the group. “May as well share a car, yeah?”
“Sure,” you nodded, playing it up for the group, “may as well.”
The moment you and Harry stepped outside the bar, it was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. It hadn’t been a complete lie when you’d said that it had been a long week, and really all you wanted to do was curl up under Harry’s arm and close your eyes.
He was quiet as you waited at the curb, checking his phone every few seconds to see if the car he ordered was any closer. For some reason, you felt awkward standing next to him, which was unusual considering how calm he normally made you feel. You felt like your tongue was made of stone, like you might stutter if you tried to speak. You don’t even know what you’d say anyway.
Your hands tugged the sides of your jackets tighter together as a bitter wind ripped through the night, forcing you to hunch your back over and clench your teeth together. Harry must have felt it too, because the moment the breeze let up, he shuffled closer to you so your upper arms were pressed together. It was such a simple gesture, but you felt yourself warm up from his thoughtfulness alone.
When the car finally arrived, Harry guided you in before him with a soft brush of his hand on your waist. You couldn’t wait until it was placed there more firmly, maybe slid up under your shirt to press directly onto your skin, the calluses of his fingertips scratching against you in the most delightful way. You let out a quiet sigh at the thought.
You worried your lip between your teeth as the car started to move, training your eyes out the window. You only looked over at Harry when he cleared his throat.
“So, um,” he said in a shaky voice, “I’m sorry for what they all said in there.”
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, cocking your head slightly. “Why are you apologizing to me?”
He seemed taken aback by your question, but you thought it was a fair one to ask. Sure, you’d hated hearing your friends joke about Harry’s sex life, but that was on you, those were your feelings. Harry wasn’t in charge of them. As much as you wished that he was your boyfriend, he wasn’t, and probably never would be.
“Well, you looked really uncomfortable, I guess…,” he trailed off, “and we’re, like, y’know….”
Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, hands helplessly fluttering in his lap. He clearly had no idea what to say. Maybe he was feeling just as confused as you were.
“We cuddle sometimes,” you finished for him.
“Right,” he nodded, “yeah. We cuddle sometimes. And that girl… I only took her number to be nice, honest.”
“Why are you telling me this?” You asked him after a pause, feeling your hands grow clammy. You wiped your palms on your bare legs, wishing you could skip to the part of the night where you were both on the cusp of sleep.
He let out a sigh, finally turning away to peer out of his window. “I don’t know.”
~~~
You watched with red cheeks as Harry pushed the topsheet away from his bare chest. He was stretching, the kind of stretch that had him groaning, and you just couldn’t tear your eyes away. As soon as he looked your way, you practically broke your neck trying to hide your gawking.
“You can look, y’know,” he chuckled. You knew without having to look that he had an infuriatingly handsome smirk on his face. “I look at you sometimes, too.”
“Whatever,” you groaned, sliding out from under the covers. You winced when your bare feet hit the cold wooden floor of Harry’s bedroom. “You normally wear a shirt, that’s all.”
“Oh, yeah,” he nodded, “I woke up at like, four in the morning, sweating bullets. You’re like a bloody space heater, you know that?”
With your back still turned to him, you rubbed your eyes harshly. Bright sunlight was leaking into the room through his closed blinds, which meant that you slept later than usual. Typically, you were up before the sun.
“I’ve never heard you complain before,” you mused, padding towards his ensuite bathroom. You heard the rustle of sheets and the creak of the mattress behind you, so you knew that Harry was following you.
Just as you had a routine for going to sleep, the two of you had a routine for mornings. While nighttime was all about being quiet, soft touches and sleepy sighs, mornings with Harry were full of pep and banter. You’d take your time getting out of bed, reluctantly pulling away from some giggly cuddling, before brushing your teeth together and making breakfast. Sometimes you’d go for a jog or watch part of a movie before going your separate ways. It was perfectly domestic.
Harry had been your friend for a long time. He wasn’t necessarily your best friend, but he was the easiest for you to read. You got along well. You had good chemistry. That’s what made mornings so easy.
“Never complained before ‘cause I like when you lay on top of me,” he snickered, grabbing his toothbrush from the cup by the sink. You had a toothbrush there too, something Harry hadn’t thought twice about when you started sleeping over.
“Of course you do,” you rolled your eyes, snatching the toothpaste from his hand before he could use it.
“Yeah, I especially like when you lay on top of me,” he paused, leaning in close to whisper, “when you’re not wearing a bra.”
“Fuck off!” You giggled, your voice garbled from the toothbrush in your mouth. You made eye contact with him in the mirror, snorting when he wiggled his eyebrows. You jokingly brought an arm up to cover your chest, though it was hardly visible through the band t-shirt you’d stolen from his drawers.
Harry jammed his toothbrush into his mouth just as you leaned over to spit in the sink. You cupped your hands under the faucet and slurped to rinse out your mouth, flicking water at Harry’s bare chest when you were finished.
“Put a shirt on,” you told him, “I’m gonna go put on a pot of coffee.”
“Yes, dear,” he said sarcastically through a foamy mouth, brushing his free hand down the front of his chest to wipe away the water.
You scrunched your face at him before leaving him to his own devices. You wished that everything with Harry could be this simple; just you and him, soft banter, no pressure. But you knew better; keeping your antics a secret from your friends meant toning it down. The closeness you felt with him was reserved exclusively for when you were alone.
One of your favorite things about sleeping at Harry’s house was his kitchen. While the rest of his house was modern, tall windows, white walls, and hard lines, the kitchen reminded you of home. Vintage-style appliances were lined up on the counter space next to a gas stove, a colorful tiled backsplash catching the light from the window above the sink. The floor was a simple gray linoleum, a drastic change from the expensive carpeting that blanketed most of his other rooms.
What stood out to you most was his assemblage of coffee. He had dedicated an entire cabinet for his collection of grounds, most picked up from local shops while he traveled. You randomly grabbed for one of the bags, peering down to see that you’d picked a Jamaican dark roast. It smelled delightful, so you quickly shuffled over to his french press.
Harry stumbled into the kitchen just as you were taking the kettle off the stove, inhaling deeply before sighing contently. You noticed that he’d ignored your request to put a shirt on. He threw himself onto one of the wooden benches that lined his kitchen table, letting his eyes follow you as you darted around to find clean mugs. After huffing upon seeing his empty cabinet, you threw open the dishwasher, pulling out a plain red mug, and another that read Grand Teton National Park in bold lettering.
“Would it kill you to put your dishes away?” You nagged, preparing his coffee the way he liked it. “I ran this load four days ago.”
He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee as you settled into the bench across from him. “This is the same coffee I drank when I wrote my first album.”
“It’s really good,” you complimented, taking a large gulp of your own cup. It was scalding hot, but you didn’t really mind the way it burned your tongue. “I might order some for myself.”
“You can’t,” he grinned, “It’s not mass produced, I found it at this little coffee house in the next town over from the studio we were in. Was owned by the cutest little old lady, had the thickest accent I’ve ever heard. Could barely make out what she was saying, but she was nice.”
You hummed, watching his eyes glaze over as he spoke about the memory. It was moments like this that reminded you of how little you really knew him. Generally, he refrains from talking about himself in any amount of detail, so having him open up about his experiences was a rarity. You were almost afraid to ask any follow-up questions, but your curiosity won out.
“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” You said quietly. “It sounds like you loved it there.”
“Maybe, I don’t know really,” he shrugged, peering into his mug as he spoke. “I liked recording at Shangri La just as much.”
You snorted, trying not to let your drink spill as you shook with laughter.
“Yeah, I’m sure you loved it,” you giggled, “you were on psychedelics the entire time.”
He smirked, but didn’t respond, instead hoisting himself up to his feet and sliding over to the fridge. He held it open long enough for the chill to blow over you, and you shivered slightly, wishing you’d put your bra back on before breakfast.
“Should we have scrambled eggs again?” Harry mused. “Otherwise I’ve got the makings for pancakes.”
“Eggs are fine,” you hummed, moving next to him to top up your coffee. “Can you mix in veggies like you did on Wednesday?”
“Ooh, yes,” he nodded, reaching further into his fridge to pull out half of a tomato and a ripe avocado. “Could do some sausages as well.”
“Sausages?” You questioned. “You’re vegetarian, H.”
“Yeah, but you mentioned the other day that you like them a lot, so I picked some up on my trip to the shops yesterday,” he shrugged, “I don’t mind whipping up some up, I’m using the stove anyway.”
You slumped against the counter, muttering out a quiet sure. When he was sweet like this, it was hard not to fall further into your feelings. He’d thought of you at the grocery store because of some comment you’d made in passing, and he’d spent money on food that he wouldn’t even eat.
You wanted to kiss him, wrap your arms around him, whisper your appreciation into his skin. You wanted to hold him from behind while he drizzled oil into a frying pan, and most of all, you wanted him to be yours.
But he wasn’t yours, so you excused yourself to the bathroom instead.
He was just out of your reach, because while you got to sleep in his bed, wear his t-shirt, and make him coffee in the morning, you didn’t have his heart. He was right in front of you, but he was untouchable. And that’s what stung most of all.
~~~
You’d been weird throughout the entirety of breakfast, but it didn’t seem like Harry noticed. You were overly conscious of your proximity to him, and you couldn’t look at him without looking at his chest, so you chose to not glance in his direction at all. Whereas you’d normally take your time getting ready at his house, you rushed out the moment your plate was clean, and showered at your apartment rather than his.
You felt crazy, like maybe you shouldn’t have had such a strong reaction to a package of frozen sausages, but you couldn’t control it. It just solidified what you already knew: you fancied Harry.
Even hours later, as you sat on your couch in the dark with a giant bowl of popcorn, you were still thinking about how he’d looked as he flipped the meat over in the pan with a spatula, wincing when the hot oil spit at his bare skin.
The movie playing on your computer screen in front of you had long since been forgotten, pushed to the back burner of your mind by memories of what it felt like to be around Harry. Daydreams about what it would it would be like to be with him fully. Even if you started paying attention to the film now, you missed enough that it wouldn’t make any sense.
Solo movie nights were one of your favorite things. Normally, it’d be enough to take your mind off of what was plaguing you, but tonight it wasn’t doing the trick. Perhaps later you’d try soaking in a bubble bath to truly relax.
You heard your phone ping from the other room, and you groaned as you heaved yourself off of the couch to retrieve it. People didn’t text you often, so you figured it was probably your mother texting you to complain that you hadn’t called her. She did this every so often, checking in to make sure you were happy.
When you saw that it was a notification from Harry, you felt your heartbeat pick up in excitement. Your thumb swiped against it before you even thought about it, opening the text message with a level of giddiness you hadn’t felt in ages.
From: Harry Styles 7:07PM
You forgot something this morning…
You raised your eyebrows, trying to think back to what you might’ve forgotten. A quick glance towards the front entryway told you that your purse was here. Just as you went to type a response, another text came through.
From: Harry Styles 7:08PM
You choked on your own saliva once the picture finished loading, coughing into your elbow several times. Once you straightened up, you locked your phone, unable to look out of pure mortification.
“Fuck,” you wheezed.
Out of all the things you had to forget, it was your bra, and out of all the bras you could have chosen to wear, you chose your raciest one. You felt your forehead start to sweat, and it was a good thing that you were alone because surely your entire face was flushed.
To: Harry Styles 7:12PM
I left it on purpose, thought it would look great on you. You’re welcome.
You exhaled heavily as you sent your response, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to tell how flustered he just made you. Three little dots appeared almost instantly, indicating that he was typing, so you locked your phone and brought it back over to the couch, ignoring it when it pinged again. You didn’t want to seem too desperate, even though you knew it was ridiculous.
From: Harry Styles 7:13PM
How very thoughtful of you. Maybe we’ll have to model it for each other, see who wears it best.
You bit your lips to keep the smile from creeping up your cheeks. It felt like he was flirting with you, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.
To: Harry Styles 7:15PM
I’ve seen you in black lace before, Mr. Met Gala. I’d say it suits you.
From: Harry Styles: 7:15PM
I’ve never seen you in black lace, but I’m definitely imagining it now….
You gulped, letting your fingers hover over the keyboard as you thought about your next response. This could very easily turn into something less innocent, but would that make things weird later? He was the one who started the conversation, but you were egging him on.
The three dots appeared again before you even formulated a response.
From: Harry Styles 7:16PM
I’ve got a shit imagination so you’ll have to tell me… is there a matching pair of knickers?
You could picture it perfectly, Harry sitting in his living room with his phone resting on his thigh, smirking as he waited for you to start typing. Maybe he was wearing nothing but a set of boxers, the record player on his bookshelf playing some slow rock ballad from the 80’s.
Or maybe he was in bed, with nothing on, hand shoved between his legs at the thought of you in sheer back panties. You rubbed your thighs together at the mere thought.
To: Harry Styles 7:18PM
Maybe so…
His response was immediate.
From: Harry Styles 7:18PM
You’re killing me.
From: Harry Styles 7:18PM
:)
It was just innocent flirting. That’s what you told yourself, at least.
Because how could it be anything else? Harry, with the world at his fingertips, couldn’t feel the same way as you did. Even though he held you snugly throughout the night, he didn’t speak to you much when you were out with your friends. He never sat next to you, laughed at your jokes, or danced with you on the dance floor.
You put your phone on silent before tossing it onto the coffee table.
Just as you thought, you had no idea what was going on in the movie, having missed the entire middle part. You watched anyway, sighing heavily once the end credits started to roll. Unable to control yourself, you checked your phone.
From: Harry Styles 8:02PM
Are we sleeping at mine tonight?
You should have told him that you couldn’t, that maybe the two of you needed some space. You should have put your phone on Do Not Disturb, and soaked in the bath for the rest of the night. But you didn’t.
To: Harry Styles 8:04PM
Of course. See you soon
You couldn’t.
With your heart in your throat and your head in the clouds, you slipped on your shoes, picked your purse up off of the floor, and drove to Harry’s.
~~~
As always, if you made it this far, thank you! Feel free to leave me a message about your thoughts, questions, concerns... anything! Till tomorrow,
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxx Tile
