AUTHOR'S NOTE:

"Hello, lover!"   *breathless, like Carrie Bradshaw to shoe in department store window*

SHERRY:

His kisses become feathery light and his name continues to fall from my lips. Despite my orgasm being over, his fingers are still inside me and it pains me to think of their departure. We're stilled for a moment, the only sound being our breathing and the movie we paid no attention to playing in the background.

Harry kisses my nose, and then he presses his fingers upward against my sacred spot, earning giggles from us both before he slowly withdraws.

HARRY

The realization that in a couple days I'll be at the hospital getting my cast off, as well as the follow-up x-rays of my spinal injury, lends itself to some outrageous, albeit shady behavior on my part.

One weeknight when Sherry's over, we invite Niall and Kate for pizza and board games. We haven't had a chance to spend any time together as a group, and we want to put in the effort of getting to know each other's best friend. On this night, I set my diabolical plan into motion.

All of the shampoos and sponge baths Sherry's been giving me are amping up my dirty nurse fantasies to a ridiculous level. Try as I might, I'm unable to get her to agree to a topless shampoo, a testicular massage, or any other crazy ideas I come up with that she feels "blur" the lines too much between work and play.

It comes to pass, with a little prearranged cooperation from Niall, that I'm able to pull off a basic hustle. We play a variety of games, culminating in Scrabble. All Niall has to do, is keep his trap shut about how good I am at the game. Easy peasy. Of course, I throw the game, losing in a dramatic fashion that would make even Leonardo DiCaprio proud. I pretend to sulk, Sherry kisses my cheek and coddles "Aw, poor boo," and the setup's complete.

Tonight, when I suggest a rematch, her eyes light up like a slot-machine at the thought of trouncing me a second time. I am so smooth, it's as if the wager is her idea. We negotiate a bit, and terms are set. If she wins, when I'm up and walking again, she gets to take me to a country bar (which I don't even think we have here) and teach me how to two-step, some sort of Texas cowboy dance that she insists I'll enjoy. But if I win, Sherry has to provide me with one sexual favor of my choice. We shake hands and her fate is sealed. Heh.

The win is the harder part. Not that it's hard, it's not – but I don't want it to look like I've set her up, so it's important not to win by a drastic margin. There are a few moments during the game that I'm concerned I might lose, but luck's on my side and I eek out a 412-341 lead, throwing my arms above my head to the best of my ability with one still in its cast.

"You seem mighty pleased with yourself, Styles." A hint of her southern drawl warms me like honey as she picks up the tiles and puts them back in the box. She's even wearing those boots with the American flag on them that she wore the night of the party. One day, I will fuck her while she's wearing only those boots and nothing else, but she doesn't know it yet. Maybe I'll tell her tonight.

"I am, yeah." I can't hold in my dopey grin any longer and I'm certain I look like an idiot when she chuckles and shakes her head back and forth.

"What're you lookin' so goofy for?" She makes a face, puts the Scrabble game away, and wheels the overbed tray table we'd used for gameplay to the side.

"Uh—what are you doing?" This girl.

Sherry gathers her hair in a this-could-take-all-night level of urgency and twists it into a reckless ponytail using an elastic hair-tie from her wrist. I could watch her do this simple shit all day. That's half the fun of the baths. The look on her face as she concentrates methodically on the order of events, planning out where to begin, her hand constantly checking the temperature of the water to make sure it's not too hot or too cold. Her eyes fleeting back and forth between the areas she's washing and my face, constantly checking to see if I'm comfortable. She's definitely a nurturer. I mean, how could I not fall in love with her?

"You won the game." She answers, her voice flat. "Isn't this the part where I give you a blow-job?" She winks and gives her ponytail a final tug. Fuck me.

"No, actually it's not. . ." I take secret delight in the confused look that crosses her beautiful face.

"I thought you wanted a sexual favor? You know we can't, umm, do it until after your appointment. At the earliest." She shrugs and takes my hand, rubbing my palm with her thumb. She's trying to comfort me because she thinks I'm going to ask for intercourse.

"Really, I had something different in mind."

Sherry dramatically rolls her eyes, which I love. "Don't tell me you're gonna ask for some weird-ass shit, Harry. That's not fair—," she points her finger at me and I grab it, sending her into a giggle-fit that I know will be short-lived.

I pull her to me by her finger, "C'mere and I'll tell you what I want."

After stomping her boots in playful frustration, she sits on the edge of the bed, "What? What could you possibly want, Harry?"

I pull her close, teasing her soft lips of Burt's Bees peppermint with the hint of a kiss, moving my hungry lips along her jawline before she can even begin to respond. Swiping the shell of her ear with my tongue, I whisper my request. "I want you to sit on my face."