Golden [h.s.]

65. infinite

the song towards the end of the chapter  is called Saturn by Sleeping at Last — it's so beautiful and i think it fits so perfectly! i recommend you listening to it when you get to the part (i don't wanna spoil it, you'll know what part!) :)

Harry's green eyes bore into mine — they're a deep emerald. His eyes seem much lighter in the summer, as now they're jade with the cold of winter. He glances down at my dress, then back up at my eyes, a sly smirk on his face.

"We're matching," he says. It's only now that I register what he's wearing — a salmon colored suit, the exact shade of my dress, with soft pink roses adorning the lapel. I flick my eyes back to his face. Why does this annoy me? Of fucking course we'd happen to match and wear the exact same color.

"How coincidental," I start, rolling my eyes as I turn back to look at the painting. "Is it also a coincidence that you're here once again at the same place as I am, at the same time? Or are you stalking me?"

I feel Harry's presence as he moves to stand beside me. Our arms are inches away from one another, but I keep my eyes trained on the painting and my body stiff. I hear him chuckle.

"You've caught me...I'm a huge fangirl," he jokes, echoing a familiar phrase. I faintly remember us running into each other all those months ago on my jog that morning in Central Park, where I said those exact words to him. I force myself to push the thought away.

"It's just Fate working again, isn't it?" Harry adds softly. I roll my eyes.

Fate.

At this point, Fate is bullshit; if it is Fate, then it must really fucking enjoy putting me through the outrageous movie that is my life. I refuse to acknowledge Fate anymore.

"No, Manhattan is just too damn small for the both of us," I mutter. Harry sighs from beside me. All of a sudden, he gently grabs my arm, tugging me towards the left, towards another set of double doors.

"What are you—" I ask, frantically looking around to see if anyone notices, but the people around us are far too intrigued by the art; they pay no attention as Harry whisks me through the doors, then shuts it close behind him.

I take in our surroundings — the floors are the exact shade as the other room, only there's a large counter alongside the back wall with empty shelves behind it. It's a bar. It's definitely closed off from the rest of the ballroom, probably opened up for other events.

I roll my eyes in annoyance. "Not only are you stalking me, but now you've trapped me in a room with you."

I turn to look at Harry who's leaning against the counter. He narrows his eyes at me before shaking his head. I force myself to look in the middle of his eyebrows instead of directly in his eyes — that way, I won't lose all traces of my clarity. Not completely, at least, since I already feel my brain feeling clouded with his presence alone.

Or is it the expensive champagne I was drinking?

"For your information, Aurelia, I was invited. The same way that your date was," Harry replies. He seems to spit the word "date" out, and this makes me let loose a bitter laugh.

"Oh, yes, Brad," I say, carefully watching Harry's face as I say Brad's name, but I can't read his emotion. "Did you trap me in this room to argue with me over Brad? For the billionth time, might I add?"

"Do you really think so little of me, Aurelia? I'm not your boyfriend, I don't care if you're here with him, it isn't any of my business," Harry replies, though not angrily — he says this quietly.

I feel a slight pang in my chest at his words. He's right, he isn't my boyfriend, so why do those words make my heart constrict?

I brush it off with another roll of my eyes. "Actually, I do think so little of you, Harry. You've already proven that to me." I cross my arms. Harry's gaze seems to pierce through my body, threatening to puncture my exterior, but I still don't meet his eyes.