Chapter 5 Harry
Harry
Igroaned as pain assaulted me from every conceivable angle.
I stretched on a yawn, but my joints cracked and my muscles burned, making everything worse.
I needed to throw up. Bile was already heavy in my throat; I couldn’t even open my eyes.
The sheer force of hurt pounding through my skull nearly pinned me to the pillow until my stomach growled, a fierce hunger barraging through me, setting off another wave of nausea.
I didn't know what had happened.
I lifted a hand to my forehead as I moaned loudly. My mouth tasted like rotten food, as if it was oozing down my throat and pooling in my stomach.
I didn’t usually drink. I was always careful, as Mum constantly gave us warnings about ending up in the papers.
“One bad moment could ruin your life.” But a hangover was the only explanation I could think of for why I felt so awful, and I had no memories of last night.
Though alcohol had never affected me this badly.
Pressing a hand into the mattress, I pushed myself up, which was probably the worst thing I could have done. I groaned again as the duvet fell away to my hips. The cool air helped my hot skin, but I froze the moment I became aware of another sensation.
I was completely naked, but that wasn't what concerned me.
My crotch was too sticky, far too much to be sweat.
I was certain it wasn't a wet dream; I was nineteen and it had been years since I had one.
And I felt… strange. Not just hungover strange; there was something else gnawing at the back of my mind, along with my missing memories.
Those thoughts took second place to a new ache that ripped through me as I finally pried open my eyes and the bright sunlight streaming in from the window to my left slammed into me. I kept my lips firmly shut, praying I’d be able to make it to the toilet in time to vomit.
That was not how I was supposed to start my day.
My head shot up at the quick thump that came from the bathroom. The toilet flushed and, by the time I registered that the bathroom was on the wrong side of my bedroom, the tap had stopped running and the door opened.
My mouth dropped as Dom stood in the doorway, a towel hanging off his hips. His face split into a wide grin as he saw me. “Morning, handsome. How did you sleep?” he asked in a gravely voice that instantly woke me up.
My gaze jumped over him before sweeping around the room. No desk or chair, no photos of my family on the windowsill. My brow creased as I fought through the muddle of thoughts to work out what was happening.
“Where am I?” I croaked, wincing instantly. Even breathing felt like rubbing sandpaper against my windpipe. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, making sure I kept the duvet tightly pulled up over my stomach as my head spun at the sudden movement.
Dom stretched his arm above his head, clutching the doorframe, posing like a model. A diamond of blond hair on his armpit drew my focus first, before the spread of hard muscles running from his upper arms down to his hips distracted me.
“Hmmm… you had quite a night,” Dom answered with a dangerously sexy smile. “I brought you back to mine to get over the worst of it.” His smirk was the type he’d throw me first thing in the morning, the kind that would follow me throughout the day.
The realisation hit me. I jolted, my attention snapping back to Dom as my breath vanished. Like water dripping through weak cracks in a dam, it swelled until it burst in my heart, and I nearly choked. My panic violently overrode the nausea and the pain.
I was in Dom’s room. Naked. Waking up in his bed after a night of empty memories.
“Oh, God.” I lifted a trembling hand to my mouth.
“Please tell me we didn’t…” My eyes fixed on the towel riding his hips, outlining abs I'd been dying to touch for months.
Horror came next, blending with my realisation in the flood.
My blood racing, toes and fingers curling, trying to stay calm despite the colour draining from my skin, intensely aware of how dank my crotch was.
What if I told him? What if I said how I’d been fantasising about him, or how I would sometimes listen to him at night just to hear his voice as he came?
Surprise scattered through me when Dom flinched.
His body stiffened as his arm dropped, the shock which marred his face echoing mine.
He caught himself quickly. Whatever thoughts he had, disappeared as his expression grew cold.
He folded his arms as his smile turned into a glare, leaning his shoulder against the door frame, his fingers digging into his forearms.
Tension bloomed between us as the seconds eked by. I couldn’t bear it and was about to run when Dom finally spoke.
“You mean you don’t remember getting absolutely smashed last night and me dragging you home?” Dom asked, raising a brow.
Like a Chinese whisper, I had the vaguest memory of someone from a lecture inviting me out for drinks, and nothing after that. My head pounded, sweat beading down my back, stealing my concentration; but I couldn't ignore his words.
I pressed a palm to my mouth, my eyes sliding to the floor, heat flushing through my body as I gritted my teeth.
If I’d told him I wanted to feel him beneath me, or on top of me, or inside me—or even how I’d once stroked myself to the sound of him having sex—I’d never be able to face him again. I’d move into an apartment like the one Dad bought for my sister and lock myself in there until the world ended.
Drawing a shuddering breath, a musky scent wafted off me as my hand fell away. Alcohol, sweat, and… sex?
“And… it was okay?” I asked, praying for a good answer.
“I mean… you…” My alarmed stare ran from his towel up to his face, taking in every bare inch of his skin.
Skin I wanted against mine. Skin I wanted to taste.
“We didn’t… do anything, did we?” I finished in a hushed voice, barely able to say the words.
My stomach jumped as Dom’s gaze bore into me. The bile that had been threatening to rise since I woke was almost at the back of my tongue, but I swallowed it down.
Dom gave me a once-over, his lips pursed, his glare hard. “And what makes you think I’d be interested in someone like you?” he replied, his tone leaden, dripping with disdain.
A sharp ache stabbed my heart as I reddened, and my eyes instantly dropped back down to the floor. My shoulders sagging, hurt peppered the strong pulse of shame that filled me.
I wasn’t exactly a boyish twink, but I’d seen all types of men come and go from Dom's flat, some of them the same size as me. I didn’t have plans to act on my desire for him, but the look on his face stung worse than I imagined.
It was stupid for me to think of it, anyway. I was naked and he was only wearing a towel, so it was a natural assumption. But really, he was right. I shouldn't have hoped for something impossible.
“Where did you sleep then?” I asked after a beat of silence, avoiding his glare by searching the room.
Dom nodded towards the blue sofa I hadn't noticed underneath the window, a few dishevelled blankets lying on one side, and the dull thud of embarrassment joined my nausea.
I really was an idiot.
The best words to describe me would be ‘large’ or ‘fat’ or ‘weighty’.
Mum didn’t pull her punches when it came to her children’s appearances.
All my life she dressed me in clothes to hide my shape and anything else she disapproved of.
She’d even used gloves to hide my wide fingers.
There were times when she would suddenly grow annoyed, sighing “You’re just like your father,” at any opportunity.
He was one of the most successful businessmen of the decade, but she still acted as if our size was the worst thing in the world.
I could tell myself it was never about my appearance, only hers, but the pain was too deeply rooted to change.
“I’m sorry,” Dom said, his tone softening, “that came out totally wrong.”
“It’s fine. You made your point,” I replied sullenly, poorly hiding my disappointment. I don’t know why I thought he was better than that. I didn’t want to look at him. I needed to leave.
I forced myself off the bed, grabbing my clothes. I didn’t stop to ask him why they were in a pile beside his bed while my boxers were on the other side of the room. I focused on fighting through the pain and sickness, as well as the shame of being naked in front of Dom.
“Harry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. He really did sound regretful, but the damage was already done. He remained in the bathroom doorway as I attempted to dress without throwing up.
I awkwardly slipped on my t-shirt. I didn’t have time to worry about things like boxers or socks when my goal was reaching his door with as few words exchanged as possible.
If anyone saw me coming out of Dom’s room, they would instantly make an assumption.
But I didn’t care; I'd deal with that later.
I’d fallen for it. Mum had drilled into us how people would use us simply because of who we were.
My three sisters and I always had to be alert and make sure we didn’t let our guard down, to ensure we couldn’t be taken advantage of.
Yet, whatever happened last night, whether or not Dom was telling the truth, someone had tricked me. I just hoped he wasn’t to blame.
My back was to him as I yanked up my trousers, but my shame over my body couldn’t be masked just by avoiding him.
“Harry…” I heard the floorboard creak as Dom stepped towards me, but I was already at the front door clutching my boxers, socks, and shoes to my chest. If he touched me, I couldn’t tell what I'd do, but the sparks at the corners of my eyes told me what was coming if I stayed any longer.
The last thing I wanted was to show him how hurt I really was.
I turned back to him, schooling my expression, one of the many useful things Mum had taught me. “Thanks for looking after me,” I said, my words hollow. “I appreciate it.”
Dom's arms folded, his forearms tensed against his bare chest as he watched me through strands of damp hair. His lips parted with a look of surprise I didn't understand. Maybe he regretted his words, though it didn't mean they weren't true.
Pushing open the door, I let it slam behind me. My nausea was so overwhelming that the vibration of it dug into my bones.
I wasn’t letting Dominic Outrem get to me. I was fine the way I was.
I had to keep telling myself that so my heart wouldn’t be crushed in the process.