AUTHOR'S NOTE:

SURPRISED, YEAH?

I'd love some comments from the ghosties out there.....boo!

TWITTER:  @lovethedinklage

*****

HARRY:

I am overcome by an unidentifiable sensation as I stare at her vaginal lips and clit that I want nothing more than to press my tongue up against and lick for all she's worth. With a tinge of guilt I place her phone to the side, and look down at my lap only to realize that it isn't only moral code I'm lacking.

The flirting, the make-outs, the nudes . . . there'd been no reaction.  This can only mean one thing. 

I'm impotent.

*****

SHERRY

As soon as I return to Harry's room with our dinner, I detect a shift in the atmosphere. Harry struggles to give me a semi-smile, and continues to flick through the channels on the television in silence. What could have happened in the 10 minutes I was gone?

I place Harry's dinner on his bed tray, my phone lying near the edge of his bed.

"There's my phone," I say absently, picking it up and putting it in my pocket. "Your dad hasn't called me back. That's odd."

Harry, a little pale, picks at his food with his fork.

"Are you okay?" Using my right hand, I brush the curls away from his face and check his forehead for warmth. He avoids my gaze, yet when my hand slides down to his cheek he brings his hand up to cover mine, leaning into my touch. "Harry?" I wonder if anything happened during the day I should know about and debate calling Liam, but then remember Harry was in good spirits when speaking about Niall and Louis's visit.

I sit on the edge of the bed and Harry continues to hold my hand against his cheek, his eyes closed. His breaths come in short, frustrated huffs. I place my other hand on his other cheek, lightly swiping my thumb over his full lips. "Shhh, you're okay," I whisper to calm him, but he still doesn't open his eyes.

I lean forward, gently kissing his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, filling the seconds between kisses with murmurs of comfort. His skin is incredibly soft, almost like that of a baby. Harry tilts his head down and away, his hair falling over his face again in a protective curtain.

"Do you want to talk about it? Do you need some alone time?" I throw out a variety of options in hopes that one of them will motivate a response.

"I looked at your phone. At your nudes." He confesses, his eyes open long enough for me to see they're glossy and red-rimmed.

"And they made you cry? Fuck. They're worse than I thought." I slump down in the bedside chair and cover my face with a nearby pillow, which I'm very tempted to scream into at the top of my lungs.

"No, Sherry – that's not what I meant. I mean . . ." Harry's exasperated, and from beneath the safety of my pillow hideaway I imagine him running his hands through his hair, fiddling with his rings, and all the other quirky things he does. "Sherry. Take that pillow down."

I don't respond.

"Sherry." His voice is strong, deep, and dominating. "Sherry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have looked. I know I shouldn't have, but I just . . . fuck. Fuck!"  There is a large crashing noise followed by much clatter.

I peek out from behind the pillow with caution. Amazed, I fling the pillow onto the lower half of the bed and scramble to my feet. "What the hell, Harry?!"

He must have flipped or thrown his dinner tray somehow and now there is chicken caesar salad all over the place. I am at a loss. I want to rip him a new asshole for acting like a child, but at the same time I'm keenly aware that something is happening here that I don't know about.

I calmly right his tray table and pick up large items that are easily visible. There are hardwood floors in the room, but I'll still have to sweep and mop, as well as replace Harry's sheet that he's using for cover.

Harry's hands cover his face and I hear a few sniffles escape from behind them. My broken boy.

"Oh, Harry," I sigh, unsure.  "I want to cuddle you, but if you're going to freak out, then. . ." I let him know so he won't be surprised when I touch him since he's emotionally on high-alert. I touch his hair, smoothing it back from his face and kiss the top of his head, and Harry murmurs something into his hands I can't understand. "What's that?" I ask.

"I'm so sorry," he says, miserable. Taking his hands away from his tear-stained face, "I really like your nudes. I know I shouldn't of looked, but, they were fucking hot." His cheeks blush beneath his tears and I've never seen anyone more beautiful.

The randomness of his comment makes me laugh, and his lips turn up in a hint of a smile. "I guess I should have put a passcode on my phone after that first night in the closet, yeah?"

"Nah. Where's the fun in that?" Harry smiles, albeit tinged with sadness.

We just sit and look at each other in a quiet moment. Then the thought that Harry's seen my vagina trips me out a little bit. If he'd have seen it in the I'm-about-to-fuck-it context, that's one thing, but this was something completely different.

"Umm, my dinner tray is still okay over here. Why don't you eat this one while I clean up? Then we can talk afterward, yeah?"

Harry agrees, so I wipe down his tray table and put what was originally going to be my dinner on the tray for him. I feel his eyes on me as I go about cleaning up the mess and replacing his sheet. I glance at him occasionally to check his mood, which seems stable at this point.

When he's finished, I take his tray to the kitchen, rinsing and loading the dishes in the washer as Julie left over an hour ago. I make myself a quick sandwich and I'm slicing an apple when Harry's dad returns my call, asking if I mind staying a couple of hours later because he has to entertain some clients.  We briefly discuss my near firing, which he apologizes for. "I am sorry about that, Sherry. I know he is struggling emotionally and physically right now, and his pride has taken a huge hit. But I also know that he cares for you and needs you, even if he can't bring himself to say so right now," the affection for Harry is clear in his voice.

I finish the conversation en route to Harry's room with my sandwich, handing my phone over to Harry to say a couple of things before hanging up.

After he hangs up, he gives me a sheepish grin and then asks a question that almost causes me to choke on an apple slice.

"So . . . whose cock shots are those on your phone?"