Roses [h.s]

Chapter 21

We meet under the covers, exchanging shy smiles as if we hadn't done this same thing only a week ago. Everything has changed now though, we're in uncharted territory. This whole time Harry has been back I'd marvelled at how similar he was to the kid who was my best friend before X-Factor, but tonight nothing is the same. A few words and kisses and I can't help but feel shy around him now, unsure of what to do and what to say. Apparently, Harry feels the same, because we sit in silence for a few minutes, only glancing at each other briefly, as we lie on our backs.

"So ..." I say when the silence seems suffocating, letting the word hang in the air because I don't know what to follow it up with. I turn to Harry, shifting onto my side and smiling awkwardly. He smiles back and before we know it, we're both giggling at some silent joke that neither of us really know. Each time we think that we're finished laughing, we catch each other's eyes and the laughing just starts up again. Those seem like the only kind of laughs I have with Harry.

"This is different." Harry mutters when we finally stop laughing and slip into another long silence.

"Yeah, I don't know why."

"You don't?" Harry says, turning his head to look at me with a smirk. "You need to me show you why?"

The way he says it sends a shiver down my spine, and heat rushing to my cheeks. I blush thinking about the way we had become entangled in the twister sheet not that long ago, and my thoughts wander to what could've come next if Chloe hadn't come home. I look away from Harry - and everything about his face that entices me to move closer to him, so that we'd be impossible to differentiate as two people - and try and clear my thoughts so thought my face doesn't explode from excessive blushing.

"Maddy."

I look up immediately, barely having to wait for him to finish my name. Harry is already looking down at me, his face serious now, and I can tell from the small crease in between his eyebrows that he's contemplating what to say now. I wait patiently, happily content to just look at his face, to drink it in as if I haven't already memorised every feature.

"What does this mean now?" He finally says, his words slow and tentative, like he didn't really know if he wanted the answer. His eyes flicker between mine after he speaks, trying to gauge my reaction, to get some sense of what I'm thinking. When I don't reply immediately, he clarifies quickly and nervously. "For us, I mean."

The clarification was unnecessary, I knew exactly what he was asking the moment he asked it. The issue is that I don't know how to answer it, because I've been wondering the same thing. I know what I want – I want Harry. In every meaning, in every way, all I want, and need is to be with him. So, why can't I just say that? Because there's still a part of me that thinks that Harry doesn't want that. How could I possibly be who Harry wants?

"I don't know." I say instead, my hand reflexively tugging my sleeves down as I start to feel insecure yet again. All the confidence that had come from earlier seems to have been extinguished - like the flame of a candle smothered by the slightest gust of wind – and now I'm certain that today has been some sort of dream, or hallucination. I look away from Harry, muttering as I continue. "What do you want it to mean?"

I start when Harry grabs my hands, pulling gently so that my sleeve drops from between my fingers. My eyes flicker back up to see his having never left my face, watching me with an intensity that makes it difficult to look away, that makes me feel paralysed so that when he leans forward, I can't move away. We're centimetres away now, so close that I can see the flecks of golden brown in his eyes and feel his breath softly brushing past my skin.

"Be honest. Please."

His words are so soft and earnest, and his gaze so piercing that I feel breathless and dazed. All I can think about is how close his lips are to mine, and for a second I can't remember where I am, let alone what the question was. So we stay in silence for a few moments – a silence that seems to buzz with unspoken thoughts and actions waiting to be done – before I can gather my muddled thoughts enough to be coherent.