fratrry (1, ~6.4k words)
Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3
WARNINGS: SA, swearing, alcohol consumption, Harry being a slag and a bad driver
: :
Bella remembers the first time she stepped into the Alpha Sigma Phi house in broad daylight. It was after three consecutive weekends of hooking up with one of the brothers, Matt Hodge, at every single party they had hosted. He wanted to bring her to the house, to introduce her to his brothers.
They weren’t dating. It was strictly casual sex. But, still, Matt wanted all his brothers to know who she was.
“So, that means she’s off limits,” one of the brothers stated, right in front of her.
Harry had glared at him. “Bro. Bella is with Matt. She’s part of the family now.” His scowl then shifted to a grin. “We protect our family.”
Harry Styles, the most notorious student in the university. Known for being extremely laid-back, happy-go-lucky, and incredible in bed. Like, the best in bed, for both men and women. He isn’t picky.
And, well, Bella can see it. He is easily the most beautiful human being she’s ever laid eyes upon. His curly brown hair, clear green eyes, and his dazzling dimpled smile are all ingredients to cook up one devasting…philanderer. Ladies’ man. Player. Flirt.
A manwhore, essentially.
She can almost guarantee that in all of her classes, at least 10% of the people (including the professors) in each class have fucked him, or have been fucked by him–whatever, that doesn’t matter. He just sleeps around a lot.
But, she remembers being pretty sure that he had just quoted Twilight. She thinks it was just a coincidence.
It was weird to watch him during the day–like he really was a fucking vampire. The only times Bella had ever seen Harry Styles was when the house was submerged in darkness and blinding party lights, the music so loud the bass shook her bones, and there were so many people in the house it was a fire hazard.
She had only ever seen him sweaty and drunk, a smile always on his face if he was dancing, or a smirk if he was flirting. He ruled the weekends, the nights. He was a king among his people, and the Alpha Sigma Phi was his castle. He thrived in those atmospheres, like that’s all he’s good at, the only thing he’s good at (besides fucking, maybe the bed is his throne or something).
Seeing him–watching him interact with his brothers while the sun shined through the windows was something else. He’s so fucking pretty when the sun rays are reflecting off his eyes, lighting up his hair to create a golden halo around his head. His smile is just as blinding as the sun, yet it’s so hard to look away.
But, yeah, Matt. He’s cool. Good in bed, isn’t clingy, a good conversationalist. Bella enjoys being around him.
She doesn’t enjoy being around his brothers, however.
Even though she’s “off limits,” that does not stop them from making crude jokes or throwing a light–but offensive–teasing her way. It’s so fucking irritating. She hates frat boys. They’re rude and smelly and disgusting and vulgar and Bella can hardly stand being in the same room with them for more than two minutes, if that. So, when she comes over, she usually tip toes through the house until she makes it to Matt’s room.
Despite complaining about how much she hates being there so much in her head, she’s there an awful lot. Every Friday and Saturday night for the parties, and also the occasional weeknight party; every Monday night to watch football; during the day because the house is closer to campus than her apartment is; and usually all day Saturday because she stays the night Friday and attends the Saturday parties.
So, basically, she’s a giant hypocrite.
It’s not like she despises them, despite how many hours she’s spent damning their names and rebuking their entire beings. They can be funny and decent sometimes, and she likes to tease them and be teased by them sometimes, but they almost always take it too far. That’s what gets her blood boiling, what makes her scream into her pillow until her voice is hoarse, what makes her thoughts so absurdly gory it almost frightens her. The only frat boys she can truly stand for more than two minutes are Matt and Harry.
Every conversation she has had with Harry is the exact same, like he’s checking off a list.
1. He flirts with her an awful lot.
2. He makes a joke about taking her to bed, or any joke that involves them fucking.
3. He lightly scolds the brothers when they make a particularly mean joke about her.
4. He quotes Twilight.
5. He either makes a comment that stuns Bella because it’s actually kind of intelligent and she would never expect a deep thought like that to come out of a pretty head like his, or he’s genuinely kind to her, does something as little as asks her about her day or if she just got a haircut.
This morning is no different.
It’s early Saturday–well, ten o’clock, but the house is silent. Half of the frat is at breakfast at the diner (a tradition) and the other half is still asleep, and won’t wake up until at least noon. She has some time to sneak into the kitchen and grab something to eat without being bothered.
So, she’s confident enough to walk around the house in a shirt that she wasn’t wearing last night, and her underwear. Of all the times she’s done this, she hasn’t been caught yet, and she will continue to push her luck.
Harry is in the kitchen when she enters, like he always is. “Good morning to me.” He smirks, leaning back against the counter. His eyes rake down her body, lingering on her exposed legs, right underneath the hem of her shirt.
She says with a sigh, “Hi,” and goes to the fridge. She knows Harry’s staring at her ass.
“Anyone ever fucked that ass yet?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asks into the fridge. She hears Harry laugh behind her. “It’s ten in the morning; I just woke up.”
“I’m sorry.” He giggles. “That’s the first thought that popped in my head. It just came out. I couldn’t stop it.”
“Like that makes it any better.” There’s nothing good in the fridge. She shuts the door and gives Harry an unimpressed look. He just beams at her.
His eyes flicker down her body, eyeing her legs. “Did you just wax?”
“I did.”
He hums into his glass of orange juice (probably a mimosa). “I love a woman with a bit of hair.”
Bella opens the cereal cupboard. “I bet you do.”
“Want me to make pancakes?”
“Please.”
Harry nods and hands her his glass before gathering the ingredients. Bella hops onto the counter and takes a sip of his drink (definitely a mimosa).
She watches him prepare her breakfast, wearing just his boxers and an apron that has the typical half naked woman’s body on it. His face is still slightly puffy, his eyes just a little red and swollen. His movements are sluggish and lazy, and it perfectly describes every Saturday morning in the Alpha Sigma Phi house. She loves the mornings here (mostly–all–because of the absence of frat boys).
She’s halfway into eating her plate of pancakes when the door slams open and the house fills with deep voices. Bella hops off the counter and darts out of the kitchen, but she’s too late.
One brother, Chad, spots her and immediately chases after her. “Bella! I see you, you little bitch!” He catches up to her just as she’s on the first step of the staircase, wraps his arms around her and pulls her against his chest. She lets out a short shriek when she’s lifted into the air. She flails her legs to no avail as Chad carries her back into the kitchen.
Harry drones, “Put her down.” He doesn’t even glance their way, focuses on the stove.
“You thought you could run away from me, you little slut?” Chad murmurs into her ear. She huffs out a laugh, tries to pry his hands off her.
“Let me go, Chad.”
“No, I want everyone to see the cute little panties you got on. Oh, red? My favorite color.”
Bella barks out a laugh and he snickers at the sounds of her struggles. Then she feels his hand slide down her waist. She kicks her legs out and snaps, “Watch it!”
He wrinkles his nose. “You’re wearing cotton? Not even lace or silk? You’re such a prude.”
“Chad,” Harry warns, like he’s losing patience.
“Yes, dad,” he drawls, dropping her.
She huffs, pulling her shirt down before she stomps out of the kitchen. She hides in Matt’s room for the rest of the morning until he wakes up. They both head back downstairs, Bella with pants on now.
She sits in a chair in the living room as Matt stumbles into the kitchen to make them coffee. She stares with a bored gaze at the television; they’re watching SportsCenter.
She sighs and leans back. Matt eventually returns and slides into the chair with her. It’s a tight fit, but Bella loves a good snuggle, so she relaxes against him, accepting her mug from him. He wraps an arm around her to pull her closer before turning to the television.
Harry enters the living room with a loud sigh, still in his boxers. He falls back onto the couch. “The freezer is dangerously low on French toast sticks. We’re down to a two, maybe three year’s supply.”
“Shut the fuck up Harry’s” ring through the room. He pouts. “Okay, but someone does need to go shopping. I don’t know who it is, but it’s not me.”
Nobody responds.
“It’s Matt,” a brother says after checking the spreadsheet on his phone minutes later.
“Fuck,” he says in Bella’s ear. He shifts a bit and twists his neck to look at her. “Come with me?”
She shrugs, takes another sip of her coffee. “Sure.”
Before they leave for the store, Harry requests that they buy a certain snack for him. Then he asks for something else, then another thing.
After the seventh request, Bella snaps at him to come with them. He pouts, but then joins them.
And then they lose him in the store for twenty minutes.
“Let’s just go,” she says to Matt. Harry’s nowhere to be seen. “They’re gonna start pregaming soon.”
“We’re not going to leave him, Bella.” Matt gives her a disapproving look. “He’ll cry.”
She mutters under her breath, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Matt snorts.
Then he finds him in the bathroom.
She’s staring at Harry incredulously as she hurries beside him in the parking lot. “A bootycall in the middle of the day? In Meijer? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Harry beams as he struts, pumping his arms dramatically. It’s the same stupid fucking smile he wears on his stupid fucking face after he gets some stupid fucking pussy or ass. He always acts so fucking stupid after a good fuck. He’s so fucking stupid.
He’s also sporting a rather large hickey just under his jaw. It’s ginormous and purple and distracting and stupid, really fucking stupid.
He ignores her, climbs into the passenger seat. “God, Matt, can you fuck her with the stick that’s up her ass? Or,” he turns back, wiggles his eyebrows at her, “I’ll fuck you with a bigger stick.”
“You mean that monster dildo in your drawer?” She looks out the window. “No, thanks. I don’t want to split my ass open.”
The frat boys laugh obnoxiously loudly in the front. Matt hits his head on the steering wheel. Harry cackles and claps his hands.
Stupid fucking frat boys.
: :
The front door of the house slams open. Heavy footsteps sound like thunder as they stomp through the house. Harry appears, eyebrows drawn together and a deep frown on his face. “Got another fucking ticket.”
“Harry,” one of the brothers says with a shake of his head, “that’s the second one this semester.”
He replies sharply, “Don’t you think I know that?” He throws himself down on the couch, glaring at the wall above the television. He lets out a short groan, hands flying up to his face.
Suddenly, his tense body relaxes, and he sags into the couch. He lets out a light sigh as his hands fall to his lap and slap his thighs. He shrugs and pushes himself off the couch. “I’ll just have to fuck the chief again.”
Bella gasps, can’t help the “Oh, my God.” What the fuck did he just say? “Harry,” she says uneasily, “isn’t that, like…illegal?”
He shrugs. “Fuck if I know. I don’t give a shit. As long as it gets me out of paying five hundred bucks.” He notices the look on her face, then rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, Bella, it’s a speeding ticket. On the highway. It’s not like I’m hitting people or going fifty in a neighborhood.”
“Wasn’t your last ticket a parking one?”
He sighs. “Listen, Bella, I was seconds away from shitting myself. I wasn’t about to go find a parking space. I barely made it to the toilet as is.”
Matt snickers. “I fucking remember that. You called crying from the toilet.”
“I wasn’t crying.” Harry sniffs. “It was a traumatic experience. I still haven’t gotten coffee from that Dunkin.”
The next day, he has the balls to ask Bella to accompany him as he drives to some unknown destination.
She’s standing outside the passenger car door. Harry is sitting in the driver’s seat, and he has the window rolled down to talk to her.
“Harry, I don’t want to get in a car with you.”
“Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you’re worried about my driving?”
She immediately says, “Yes.”
Harry sighs, then pats the passenger seat. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. Just get in.”
And she had every right to be terrified, because he is a terrible driver.
“Harry!” Bella shrieks, pointing out the windshield. “Look out for that car!” Her hand flies up to the handle on the roof, holding onto it for dear life as Harry speeds toward a car merging in front of them.
Harry lets out his own shriek, swerves and manages to switch lanes without crashing into other cars. Their bodies jerk to the right as Harry whips around. Bella hits her head on the window.
“Stupid shiny Volvo owner!” he yells, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.
Bella lets out another shriek, her body jerking to the left now as Harry weaves through the lanes. She yells seriously, “I’ve never seen anyone so prone to life-threatening idiocy in my life!”
Harry makes a weird noise. Bella would laugh if the current situation wasn’t so dire.
“I should turn you in to the cops! You shouldn’t be allowed to drive!”
“Stop shouting!” he shouts at her. “And I’d just suck everyone’s dick and they’d let me out!” Even though the immediate danger is past them, he’s still tense and hunched over. And he keeps jerking the car around. It feels just as chaotic as before.
“You’re the biggest skankiest sluttiest trampiest…!–” she struggles for another word, she’s panicking “–slut I’ve ever met!”
“Thank you!”
Bella has a serious headache, and stomachache. Her hand hurts from how hard she’s squeezing the handle. Her head feels like it’s about to burst from how tense she is, from how much she’s freaking out.
When they reach his surprise destination–a fucking Hobby Lobby–Bella climbs out of the car and almost collapses with relief.
She screams, “I am never getting in a car with you again!”
Harry rounds the car, looking perfectly normal. Bella still can’t breathe properly.
He yells back, “You’re overreacting!”
“We almost died!” She thrusts a hand out to the car. “And look at how you parked!”
Harry looks. He’s smack dab in the middle of two spaces, at a forty-five-degree diagonal. He’s also about two inches from the BMW parked kitty corner from his car. Phew.
“At least I didn’t hit it,” is all he can say.
Bella’s so pissed. “And what the fuck could you possibly need from Hobby Lobby? I’m calling an Uber.” She turns on her heels and pulls out her phone.
“Fine!” he yells after her as she walks away. “Have fun paying fifty bucks!”
When she gets back to the house, the brothers take pity on her, and they each venmo her five bucks.
: :
Bella has never been one for Halloween. She’s not even willing to spend ten bucks on a costume from Party City, and she’d rather go as nothing then pick random things in her closet to only barely represent the person she’s trying to dress up as. Go big or go home, and for Halloween, she always goes home.
Which is why she’s wearing scrubs that one of the frat boys let her borrow for the night. It’s a little big, but at least she’s dressed. And Matt decided to dress as a sexy nurse, so it’s a little funny.
She doesn’t see Harry until the party is in full swing. She catches his eye, and narrows her eyes at him as he approaches her. She’s trying to figure out his costume, and she has an inkling.
“Hello,” he says tentatively once he’s standing in front of her. She rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself last week. I’m Edward Cullen…” He’s grinning so hard, it looks painful. “You’re Bella?”
“No,” she responds flatly.
“Fuck!” He lifts his leg and stomps it on the ground hard, throwing his hands down as well. “You ruined it!”
“Aw.” Bella pouts as she brushes past him. “Sorry.”
He shouts after her, “Your costume is ass, by the way!”
He ends up hooking up with a woman dressed as Bella Swan at the end of the night.
“I’ll pretend she’s you the entire time,” he reassures the real Bella as they walk by her, his hands on the woman’s hips as she leads them to the stairs.
Bella furiously shakes her head. She says with a desperate plea in her voice, “Please don’t!”
Harry throws his head back and laughs, disappearing up the stairs.
The next morning, Bella walks into the kitchen to find Harry at the stove, only in his boxers.
“Wow, you really put that glitter everywhere.”
“Go big or go home, Bella. I never half-ass Halloween.”
She just hums, jumps onto the counter next to the stove. “Make me one?”
He nods. “You can have this one.”
As he cooks the omelet, Bella takes in his appearance. “I bet that’s gonna be a bitch to get off.”
He groans. “I showered this morning and none of it came off.”
She laughs hard at that, throwing her head back and covering her mouth. Once done with her laughing spell, she leans forward and pokes one of the various hickies on his neck. “Hey, it came off here.”
He scoffs. “I fucking hope so. Felt like she was actually sucking my fucking blood. Turns out she was vampire Bella and not human Bella.”
She hums and leans back against the counters. “Shame.”
“Yeah.” His eyes flick up to her, quickly scanning her body before focusing back on the omelet. “Bet the doctor and nurse thing was hot.”
She snorts. “Yeah, choked him with my stethoscope.”
He hums, wiggling his eyebrows. “Kinky.” He holds the plate out for her. She takes it and thanks him, accepting the fork he hands her.
“You know,” he says as their both eating their breakfast. He rubs his chest, a pinched look on his face. “My chest’s been hurting the past couple days.”
Bella doesn’t look up, too focused on her omelet. “Oh, yeah?” she asks around a mouthful.
He nods. “Yeah.” His voice drops to a low, sultry tone. “Think you can check it out for me, doctor?”
Bella laughs so hard, she starts to choke on her omelet. Harry has to pull her off the counter and smack her back a few times until the egg sprays out of her mouth. It ruins the mood.
: :
Harry doesn't really get moody. He's so laidback, it's hard to get a reaction out of him.
But every once in a while, he'll storm into the house and lock himself in his room for the rest of the day, before coming downstairs the next morning with a smile on his face, like his sour mood never happened.
Today, Bella thinks, is another one of those days as he storms inside the house and doesn’t say hi to Bella or any of the brothers.
Ten minutes later, he comes downstairs, hair wet and dripping onto his shirt.
Bella glances at him, then does a double take. “You showered?” She stomps her foot childishly. “I was gonna ask you to workout with me.”
“I’ll still do it,” he says curtly.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he snaps, turning to leave. “I’ll get dressed.”
Bella doesn’t respond, just thinks, Yikes. She usually avoids him when he's grumpy, lets him calm down on his own. But she really wanted to workout today and he's always her workout buddy. She's just surprised he agreed.
They don’t speak as they stretch in the driveway. Usually, Harry talks nonstop and chats her ear off. However, today, he is silent, just quietly brooding to himself. He’s got a wrinkle between his eyebrows, and a frown on his lips.
It’s kind of awkward, and a bit tense, but Bella tries not to think too much about it. She doesn’t say anything for a while, not until they’ve started jogging.
“You all right?”
“Yeah,” he says on a sigh. “Just had a rough day.”
Bella lets out a sympathetic hum, and doesn’t say anything else.
She thinks the jog blew some steam off, because he seems to be in a better mood when they’re lifting. While she’s bench pressing, Harry’s spotting for her. He pushes his hips forward a bit, his genitals almost touching her forehead.
Bella flinches away with a laugh, and she can hear Harry giggle above her.
“Aw, come on. You don’t want my balls in your face?”
“Not while I’m lifting,” she says with a strain in her voice as she completes her presses.
When it’s his turn to lie down, she returns the gesture.
Harry flinches away with a laugh. “Get that fishy pussy away from me.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t want it in your face?”
He hums, scrunching his nose teasingly at her. “Maybe later. I think I’ve got some Summer’s Eve in my cupboard.”
Bella gasps loudly, getting another loud laugh out of him. She smacks his stomach and–well, it feels like smacking a wall.
Harry just wiggles his eyebrows at her as he lifts the bar. Bella doesn’t say anything, just presses her lips together.
When they’re done lifting, she asks, “Do you wanna take a walk to cool off?”
Harry nods, and they walk around the neighborhood. This time, Harry does talk, and he doesn’t shut up.
Usually, Bella would snap at him because she can’t stand to hear his voice for so long, but she doesn’t. She realizes she prefers it when he talks, rather than when he doesn’t.
He talks about the most random of things, and while he does make a dirty joke every once in a while, they’re tame and not so disgusting that Bella wants to knee herself in the face.
He talks about what he had for breakfast, then for lunch, and how he’s excited for whatever Martha’s going to cook up today. He talks about the hawk that he witnessed attack a squirrel. It’s so random, it’s almost endearing. And it also helps that Harry can actually hold a conversation with her and not make her uncomfortable.
Bella likes to think they’re friends. She thinks Harry feels the same way.
Their hands bump together as they walk, enough to the point that Bella knows Harry’s doing it on purpose. That, and a large smile grows on his face more and more even as he’s talking about how one of his professor’s parent died. She knows what he’s up to.
Finally, after the umpteenth bump, she grabs his hand.
He smiles so wide, the skin around his eyes crinkle and his eyes sparkle.
“Knew you wanted to hold my hand,” he says teasingly. “You weren’t that subtle.”
“Yeah,” she says dryly. “I kept hitting your hand, cause I wanted to hold your hand.”
“Let’s not tell Matt,” he says with a smile. “He’ll get jealous.”
Then he starts to swing their joined hands obnoxiously. And he asks her about her day, what her favorite part was, what she had for breakfast and lunch. She tells him about her classes, how much she hates her one professor.
And he listens. He turns his head and stares at her as she talks, so much that he trips over a crack in the sidewalk. And he shuts up as he does so. He doesn’t interrupt her, doesn’t talk over her, doesn’t outshine her story with one of his own.
Yeah, they’re definitely friends. And she can definitely stand at least one frat boy.
They end up walking for about an hour, which is the exact opposite of a cool down, but Bella doesn’t mind. Harry’s in such a good mood now; it’s like his irritated one never happened.
They return to the house, and it’s filled with the aroma of spaghetti.
Harry lets out a little moan, and yells, “I fucking love spaghetti, Martha!”
She responds, “I know!” from the kitchen.
They continue through the house, and Bella rolls her eyes at the brothers eyeing her legs. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn these shorts.
They walk up the stairs, and pass Matt’s room, but Bella silently follows Harry to his room. She stands in the doorway for a moment, wringing her hands together, before asking “Can I use your shower?”
He spins around, not expecting her to have followed him. “Yeah. That’s fine. Do you need a towel?” Bella nods. Harry scratches his head. “Yeah, well, um…I only have one, but I think it was washed, like, two days ago…?” He gives her a hopeful, sheepish look.
She sighs. “That’s fine.”
When she’s finished showering, she steps into his room in just the towel. Harry’s lying on his stomach on the floor, propping his chin up with his fist as he scrolls through his phone.
He asks without looking up, “All done?”
Bella hums back, gripping the top of the towel. “I’m gonna change.”
“Okay,” he says easily, still not removing his eyes from the screen.
When a minute passes by and Bella doesn’t move, he finally lifts his eyes. “Do you…want to change here?”
She snaps out of her little daze. “Oh–uh, no.” She scurries past him, opens the door and peeks her head out, looking down the hall. She books it to Matt’s room and finds him taking a nap.
She quietly shuts the door, but he’s a light sleeper, so he wakes up and rolls over. “How was your workout?”
“Good.” She goes to walk to his dresser (where her clothes fill half the drawers) but he makes a noise. “What?” She turns to him, then sighs. “I just showered.”
“And?” And his voice is a bit raspy, a bit husky like it always is when he wakes up. It makes her insides tingle.
She thinks it over, then shrugs, dropping the towel and crossing the room before climbing on top of him. She straddles his hips and his hands grip her waist.
“I kinda liked it when you’re all sweaty,” he whines.
Bella laughs and leans down to kiss him as she grinds her hips against his.
: :
“Hey.”
Bella looks up from her phone. Harry’s looking down at her with a soft smile on his face. She smiles back. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Got you something.” He reveals a wrapped box from behind his back. “Merry Christmas,” he says, almost shyly.
Bella’s mouth falls open. She looks up at him with something close to awe in her eyes. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I didn’t get you a present.”
He waves a hand. “Don’t worry. This is my present, too.”
Gone is the sweet moment. Bella rolls her eyes, tearing open the present to get it over with. She’s not surprised to find a matching set of a bra and panties.
She holds the bra up, high enough that it aligns with Harry’s chest as he stands in front of her. He’s biting his lip hard, but his dimples peek through.
She sighs, lowering the bra to her lap. “How do you know my bra size.”
“Lucky guess,” he chokes out. He looks about three seconds from bursting into laughter. “I’m well acquainted with boobs.”
“Acquainted,” she repeats to herself, looking at the bra. It’s cute, she stubbornly admits. And it’s in her favorite color: a soft green. She can appreciate that he remembered her favorite color. It’s lacy and sheer, but the lace weaves through the material likes vines and flowers. It’s very dainty, and very pretty. Fuck.
He probably had so much fucking fun picking these out. She can imagine his shit-eating smile as he looked through all the collections. He probably felt the material to determine if it was soft or not, chose colors that he thought would complement her skin tone. He most definitely imagined her in each set, deciding that this one best fit her in his mind. He most definitely had a fucking blast.
“I know you like your granny panties, but I had to go for the full set. Don’t worry, they’re cotton.”
She replies dryly, “How thoughtful of you.”
His smile widens. He’s so fucking annoying. Then his smile shifts into a smirk. He licks his lips, raking his eyes up and down her body. “You should try it on for me. It’s only fair that I know what it looks like on you, since I bought it for you.”
She stands up, so close to him that if he were to lean in, their noses would brush against each other. She’s got a hint of a smirk on her face, an impish look in her eyes. It excites Harry a bit–a lot, it excites him a lot.
“I’m sure Matt could send you a pic,” she says before walking around him.
“FUCK,” she hears him yell from downstairs. She giggles before walking into Matt’s room.
Just before New Year’s, Harry gets a snapchat from her. They never talk on snapchat, so he immediately knows what it is. His pants tighten just a fraction as images race through his mind. But, nothing’s better than the actual thing.
Harry taps on the message. It’s exactly what he thought it was and–
It fucking disappears. She sent it for one second.
He asks out loud, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He sits up in his bed, staring down at his phone in disbelief.
That bitch. That fucking bitch.
This entire thing was a joke, one that she thankfully went along with. It’s all for shits and giggles, and Harry thinks replaying the image would be crossing that line between a joke and something else.
So, he doesn’t replay the image, just texts, You’re an actual bitch I hat eyou so fuckign much go die in a hole somewhere in fuking Nebraska like the hick that you are
If you’re nice to me I’ll send you a titty pic
I love you so much you’re so fucking hot can I please get a titty pic so I can jerk off to something tonight
He gets another snapchat from her. It’s a full ten seconds long. Harry is 420% sure it’s her knees.
: :
Alpha Sigma Phi throws a huge party the first weekend of the semester, as they always do after a break.
After weeks of staying in her small town in Nebraska, Bella welcomes the pounding bass, flashing lights, and strong drinks with open arms. She was getting so fucking bored; the closest thing she had to having fun was sending Harry those snapchats.
And speak of the devil, he strolls up to her, an unimpressed look on his face. Bella snorts; he must still be cranky about it.
"Hey," he says shortly, confirming her thoughts.
She replies in a flirty tone, "Hi, Harry." She gives him a smirk, one that he responds with an unamused look. He's so dramatic.
"How was your break?" He lifts his cup to his lips.
"Boring as fuck."
He snorts into his drink, the corners of his lips lifting into a smirk. "Told you you could've came home with me."
"Yeah." She looks around the house, a sigh leaving her lips. "Might have to take you up on that for spring break."
"Going to Laudy, actually. You can still come."
She wrinkles her nose. "With your frat bros?"
He shakes his head. "Nah. With Ni and all them."
Bella nods, the disgusted look on her face relaxing. "Then maybe."
Harry hums, then scans her body. His eyes linger on her shoulder, where a familiar green strap is peeking through. His jaw clenches a bit, and he swallows.
Bella catches his eye and snorts.
Harry sighs heavily. Then he asks begrudgingly, “Did Matt enjoy my present?”
“He did, actually. Thank you for asking.” She presses her lips together to avoid laughing at the grumpy look on his face. “Did you get my snapchat?”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Fuck you again for that. You’re a fucking bitch.”
“Oh, please.” She walks by him, patting his chest. Then, she leans in, grazing her lips against his ear to whisper, “Maybe if you act right, you’ll get another picture.”
She pulls away just enough for Harry to turn his head and glower at her, but the harsh gaze quickly dissolves. His forehead relaxes, and his lips part a bit to draw in a deep breath, one that visibly expands his chest and raises his shoulders. His eyes flicker down for a split second, but she notices.
Bella smirks before strutting past him.
She doesn't see him the rest of the night. She hears from disappointed men and women that he's upstairs with someone, and that he probably won't come back down the rest of the night.
She thinks she's going to ask him to brunch tomorrow. She missed him over break. They'd gotten pretty close over the last few months, and she considers him a friend. A close friend, even.
She's grateful that at least two good things came out of this frat house: good sex, and a good friend.
She's in the living room with her friends when, all of the sudden, she feels an immense amount of pressure between her legs. The air is sucked out of her lungs and she feels like she’s just been punched in the stomach.
The hand is squeezing so hard, their fingers slip into her underwear. She gasps and immediately tenses, then lets out a choked sob. Her eyes fill with tears as she yanks herself away.
Immediately, she feels like she’s going to throw up, or start sobbing, or both. Her body’s shaking.
She whips around and pushes whoever it is that was behind her. It’s fucking Brad.
“What?” He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh, falling back onto his brothers who snicker and push him until he’s upright.
“What the fuck,” she seethes through clenched teeth and teary eyes.
He steps closer, and the beer and alcohol attack her senses. She scrunches her face up and takes a step back. He follows. “Your ass just looked so cute. I couldn’t help myself.”
She sniffles, lets out a little cry. She wipes her eyes before looking up. “Fuck you.”
She throws her cup in his face and turns on her heels, storming up the stairs. She can hear his cries of pain behind her.
Tears are now running down her cheeks as she approaches Matt’s room. Her hands are shaking so bad it takes her a few minutes to unlock the door. When she finally does, she stumbles into the room and collapses onto the bed. Sitting on the edge, she leans down and presses her face in her hands.
She feels so fucking disgusting. She can still feel his grimy hand between her legs, can still feel the pressure from how hard he was grabbing her.
She sniffles and reaches down to cup herself, to rub gently, to try and erase some of the harsh, invisible bruises. It doesn’t really work.
She lets out another cry, and then spends the next five minutes trying to calm herself down.
She’s nearly okay when Matt walks into the room. He asks with a snort, “What the fuck did you do to Brad?”
“He grabbed me, Matt,” Bella says wetly. She doesn’t look at him.
He walks across the room, bends down to pick up a stray shirt from the floor. “Brad? Did he hurt you?”
“No,” she says thickly, tears springing to her eyes. There’s a lump in her throat. “But I didn’t like it.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it, Bella,” he says gently, but it sounds scripted, like he’s just supposed to say it.
“Matt–” She hides her face in her hands again. She struggles to get the next words out. “He grabbed my…my…”
“…Pussy?”
He isn’t taking this seriously. He sounds amused, not sympathetic.
Her face crumbles from behind her hands and she tries so hard to keep the next wave of tears from breeching, but they don’t listen to her. She lets out a sob.
“I didn’t like it, Matt.” She’s so upset. She’s so tired. She can’t do this anymore. “Can you go tell him that?”
“Bella,” he says slowly, exasperatedly, “they’re just joking around.”
Her hands fall to her lap. She looks him in the eyes. “I don’t care. It makes me uncomfortable.”
He shrugs his shoulder and holds his arms up. “They don’t mean any harm by it!”
Bella’s so overwhelmed. She's drunk and disoriented, and she was violated, and now she’s being gaslighted. It doesn’t feel good. Frustrated tears spring to her eyes. She says shakily, “I don’t care if they don’t mean any harm–” her voice raises to a shout “–it still fucking harms me! I don’t like their touching. It makes me feel gross and bad. Aren’t you gonna fucking do something about it?”
He raises his hands, lets out a sharp laugh. “I’m not your boyfriend. You’re the one that wanted this to be casual, remember?”
She spits through her tears, “No, you’re not my boyfriend, but I consider you my friend. I thought you were a basic fucking human being.”
“Bella, I’m a nice guy, okay? They’re all nice guys.” He scoffs. “It’s not like they’re gonna rape you or anything.”
“So, you’re not going to say anything?”
He rolls his eyes. “Bella, I’ve never said anything, because they don’t. Mean it. Like that. You’re being sensitive and dramatic, seriously.”
Her breath hitches. Her voice barely rises above a whisper. “All the times I’ve told you, you never did anything?”
He snorts. “No, of course not, because they’re not bad guys, Bella. They like to tease, that’s it.”
She presses her tongue inside her cheek, tries to stop the new wave of tears from falling. “Okay.” She nods.
He sighs out of relief. “Finally. Let’s just get back to the party.”
She shakes her head, steps back from him. “No.”
“Fine.” He brushes past her. “Stay up here. I don’t give a fuck.”
“We’re done,” she says to the empty room.
Matt pauses in the doorway. “What?”
“I’m done.” Bella shrugs with wet cheeks. The tears have stopped flowing, but they’ve stained her skin. “Fuck you. You’re a piece of shit. You and all your frat bros.”
Behind her, Matt rolls his eyes. “Fine. Fuck you then. Whatever. You can fucking leave.” Then he leaves her.
: :
Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3