Night Changes

18

Harry and I spent Sunday in a peaceful, blissful solitude. No distractions from the outside world, no ringing cell phones, no emails or texts requiring immediate and complete attention. There was nothing but him and me, laying in bed until after eleven, wrapped up in each other. Our legs tangled, my head back in the crook of his shoulder, his arms around me as we slept. This was how it was supposed to be. This was us.

We spent the entire day in our pajamas, something we hadnt done since the early days of our relationship. Harry made brunch, a strange combo of eggs benedict and lobster grilled cheese, since he had seen in on a menu earlier in the week while out for a lunch meeting. It sounded disgusting, but was actually really good. 

It was nice to just sit back and observe Harry. Calm, relaxed and unguarded, not weighted down with the worries and stressors of his business dealings, even if it was only for a little while. As he stood in the kitchen in his pajama pants and tshirt, cussing as the eggs spat at him and he dropped a piece of bread butter side down on the floor, I felt like I was falling for him all over.

This was my Harry. This strange enigma, the powerful businessman with ties in various countries and countless millions of dollars, standing barefoot in the kitchen asking if the three second rule applied to buttered bread. His hair was a mess, a brown halo around his head, his smile and laugh making me feel like none of the stress or troubles of the week had even occurred.

After lunch, we spent the day laying on the couch watching movie after movie. We literally did nothing all day but be with each other, talking about what we missed about London, or random memories I had of New York. But mostly, just silently escaping into the alternate reality of the movies on the screen. We watched everything from Harry Potter to Silver Linings Playbook, anything that we could find on Netflix or TV.

Dinner we ordered in, since neither of us had much energy or desire to cook, regardless of the fact we had done nothing all day. It always amused me how you could actually get more tired the less you did. Today was the perfect example of that. After a quick dinner of pizza and wings, we returned to our movie-a-thon, before escaping into the bedroom.

We made love for hours, slow and steady and all consuming. His lips devoured every inch of my skin, not a place on my body left unattended by his mouth. His hands held me gently, his eyes regarding me with such reverie I felt lost in them, but at the same time, like I had found my home.

It was after midnight by the time we fell asleep, in the same position we woke in. Curled into each other, legs tangled, my head in the crook of his shoulder. His arms held me close, tightly, as if he was afraid I was going to disappear if he let me go.

Monday morning came too soon, and I awoke to the sound of Harrys alarm shrilly screeching through the dim light of our bedroom. I felt Harry stir below me, hearing his long, deep inhalation and a groan as he reached his arm out and slapped the top of the clock harshly, silencing the noise. I mumbled something about the ‘fucking clock’ being a ‘jealous whore’, before nuzzling into my hair.  I smiled, tucking myself closer into his side.

Neither of us made any attempt to move for a long while, until I started to worry that he had fallen back asleep. Pushing myself up from him slowly, I looked down to him in the dim light to find him watching me.