Cover Your Tracks [HS][2014 VERSION]

29. Scars

"I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut . . ."

"I feel disgusting," I say to Harry as we walk side by side. The mud coating our skin has started to dry, leaving behind a sticky residue. Right now, I want nothing more than to go back home and wash it all off. I have never felt so dirty in my life.

"Don't girls pay for mud masks?" he asks, turning his head to the side to look at me. His mouth stretches into a grin. "Yours is free."

"It's not just on my face, it's all over my body," I whine, using the backside of my hand to wipe mud off of my cheek. Harry laughs quietly and shakes his head, returning his gaze ahead of us.

We both fall silent after that, nothing but the snapping of twigs and crinkling of leaves heard throughout the empty forest. I have no idea where we are, but Harry seems to know where he's going, so I don't bother to stop and ask questions. Instead I follow in his footsteps, my eyes level with the space between his broad shoulders.

The white tank top he wears clings to his skin, his muscles showing through the transparent material. As I trail behind him, I pay close attention to the way his shoulder blades protrude out against his skin as he sways his arms in time with the movements of his feet. His shoulder to hip ratio is alarming, his wide, broad shoulders narrowing down to his waist, forming a V shape.

The longer I watch Harry walk, the more I start to notice about him.

He's tall and lanky, but it seems to fit him, in a way. His broad shoulders and muscular torso are complimented by long, slender legs that were capable of making any girl jealous.

Even though he's coated in layers of mud, there's no denying the beauty this boy possesses. He has the brooding appearance of a man, as well as a few delicate features. It's such a unique contrast, and I'm not quite sure how it's possible.

My first impression of Harry had been far different from what I'm seeing now. His hard-set gaze and towering frame had intimidated me, but from behind, he isn't so scary.

He looks practically harmless, his big feet overlapping each other in a way that makes me surprised that he doesn't stumble or trip. He has a slight pigeon toe while walking, but it's cute, in a weird way.

His hair is wild, styled effortlessly into curly tendrils that sit messily atop his head. Most of the time curly hair looks horrid on men, but there is no doubt that this one can pull it off.

A smile spreads across my face at the thought, and it doesn't fade until we emerge through the line of trees separating my house from the forest. Harry walks ahead of me, heading in the direction of the barn.

I watch as he raises his arms to grasp the back of his tank-top, yanking it over his head. The material is then wadded up in his large hands, the once white fabric now stained a dirty brown.

Harry walks over to the water hose stationed on the side of the barn and I pick up my pace, coming to a stop behind him.

The sound of the grass crunching beneath my feet causes him to turn his head, his eyes immediately darting away once they meet my own. My eyebrows furrow together as he wraps his fingers around the faucet, twisting until water begins to spurt out of the hose.

I realize what he's doing when he raises the hose, using it to wash away the mud that cakes his skin. The dirt and grime the day had brought runs down his body before falling to the ground. I watch in awe as the remaining droplets race down his torso, disappearing into the hem of his jeans.

Harry's soaked from head to toe, the fabric of his jeans clinging tightly to his legs, although it wasn't like they hadn't been before. His mop of wet, curly hair hangs in his eyes, giving him a less harsh appearance. He looks younger, more boyish than before.