The Strand // h.s

seven

My stomach was laid across the settee as Harry's hands kneaded into the knots of tension around my shoulders. I sighed, enjoying the feeling of his large hands massaging me.

"Mind if I," Harry paused, thinking of what to say, "take your shirt off. To get a better reach of the tension, of course." My affirmative nod led him to continue. Harry's massive hands slipped the hem of my shirt over my body, guiding me to sit up so it would better come off.

He lied me down, smirking at my lack of a bra. His hands moved around the length of my back, putting pressure everywhere possible. I sighed dreamily; this seemed perfect.

I gasped when Harry slipped his hand to cup my breast, the feeling jolting electricity through my body. I smiled and urged him to continue.

"Ellie!" a voice bellowed, causing my eyes to shoot open while I jolted upright. I came face to face, or forehead to forehead, with my mum.

"Ouch," I mumbled while the both of us rubbed at the pain.

I was dreaming. I was dreaming of Harry...touching me. And what scared me most was that I didn't react disgusted or appalled. I should've been horrified. My mood in the dream was lustful and that's what frightened me. I had smiled, bloody hell I'm going insane.

"You need to wake up, you slept in later than usual." My mother's voice echoed around my room while she cringed in discomfort from our painful contact, her eyes scanning everything. Her gaze landed on my window, clicking her tongue before muttering, "We have got to get curtains for that window."

I disregarded her and thought back to last night with a small smile. Harry had told me a couple of things about himself, while he sat on the tree outside of my window, me on the seat. He hadn't told me much, just that he's from Cheshire, he's 22, and he has a sister and mum. And he hasn't spoken to most of his family in almost two years. But that conversation didn't go far.

We talked over nothing for most of the night, both of us finally going inside of our own houses after my parents' lights had shut off. I'm guessing that was why I slept in, I usually never do.

"Get dressed," my mum instructed, "We're going to the park for a family picnic." I rolled my eyes, not wanting to participate in that.

"Five minutes." I pleaded, pulling my warm duvet over my head.

"Your father and I are leaving now." My mother's voice was distant, defeated. "Either get dressed in five minutes, or walk alone."

I told them to leave, I knew where the park was and that I'd make it there safely. The last part was more of a reassurance for myself. They didn't know about the wanker named Richard that lived unnervingly close.

I eventually got up, dressing and messing with my hair. I remembered to bring my key and my inhaler when I shut the door behind me, not wanting another accident like yesterday. Harry was mowing the lawn when I passed, turning off the machine when he noticed me.

His white shirt was sticking to his muscles, revealing the black ink under it. His hair was matted against his forehead with him attempting to push it away. His appearance was giving me thoughts-unclean thoughts that I reluctantly pushed away, the thoughts being too much like my dream.

"Where're you off to?" Harry's husky voice asked as he walked up to me.

I smiled slightly before turning to face him, my fingers grabbing the strap of my bag. My eyes took in his appearance once more before answering. "Family picnic," I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

"And you don't sound too enthusiastic about that family picnic because?" He pressed.

I sighed. "What teenager would like to accompany their parents to a park to eat peanut butter and jam sandwiches?" Something in his eyes changed before I finished.