My Beloved ~ H.S.

Chapter Twenty One: Confessions

I'm about to ask him what he means exactly when a fat raindrop falls squarely on my face, at least I hope it's a raindrop. Pressing my index and middle fingers to my forehead against the wetness, I look up into the sky to see dark clouds have formed overhead.

"Uh oh", I murmur, knowing that we may be very likely about to get drenched. Harry looks upwards as well then gets smacked in the eye with a raindrop himself. He rubs at his eye then looks around frantically, and I follow his gaze to see people on the lawn gathering up their belongings and making a run for it into the street, probably trying to grab cabs before they're all taken. "Your book", I say with alarm, remembering his precious find. He looks down and wraps the bag tighter around it, protecting it from the impending downfall. "What should we do?" I ask him, as if he will know the answer. He looks around again, then his eyes fall on the tables with umbrellas some twenty feet away. There are already some people crowded under a few of them, but most of the park-goers have already disappeared from sight.

"Make a run for it?" He asks, gesturing toward the nearest table.

"Ok", I agree. He then shoves his sunglasses and mask into the pocket of his sweatshirt, then grabs his wrapped book in one hand, and takes hold of my hand with the other. Yanking me to my feet, we sprint across the grass as the rain becomes harder and heavier. I squeal a little bit, feeling like a girl, as my shoes slosh against the already soaking grass. Taking one final leap off the grassy surface, we land in a puddle that is forming on the sidewalk and he pulls me swiftly under the protection of the umbrella. It's not a very large umbrella as these are not very large tables, barely enough for two people, so we huddle together to share the space, my arms wrapped around my body, my tank clinging to my skin. At least it's not a see-through material. We are both out of breath from our sudden exertion, and our eyes scan the space from here to the street, probably both internally forming a plan of escape. "I didn't know it was supposed to rain today, did you?" I say loudly over the sudden clap of thunder.

"Nope, didn't exactly stop and check the weather forecast." Not surprising, I'm sure Harry Styles has more important things to do than check the weather. Or he has people to do those sorts of things for him.

"What do we do?" I ask again. Why am I always asking him? It's like my brain shuts down when I'm near him. Speaking of that, I can't help but notice the warmth from his body so close, and it feels heavenly pressed against my dampened skin now that the temperature feels like it's dropped ten degrees with this sudden shower. His eyes dart around the space, lingering on the few people left doing the exact same thing we are. I allow myself just a moment to take in his appearance as his breath comes out in little puffs. Damp hair falls around his face, even with the clip in, tiny beads of moisture hang off his eyelashes, and his lips are wet from the downpour. He licks them ever so slightly and I drag my eyes away, feeling a tingling in my stomach.

"Probably impossible to get a cab now", he says, echoing my earlier thoughts. "I say we just walk back."

"Walk? In this?" I protest, not enjoying the thought of walking several blocks in soaked clothes and shoes.

"Do you have a better suggestion?" He asks, looking down at me, his face so close I can feel his warm breath on my cheek. I look out over the drenched lawn and the street beyond once more.

"Not really", I admit, then resign myself to walking back and imagining how glorious the hot shower will feel in my hotel room. The rain already seems to be slacking off a bit, maybe it won't be so bad. "Ok, well I guess it's now or never", I say, noticing a slight break in the storm and taking a step out from under the umbrella.

"Wait", he says, placing his hand against my arm and pulling me back. I look up at him with confusion. He glances down at my wet clothing and I place my arms self-consciously around myself against his scrutiny. He takes his sunglasses and mask back out of his pocket, then places them along with his book down onto the table. He then grabs the hem of his sweatshirt and pulls it deftly over his head, and I resist the urge to peek at his exposed tummy beneath the t-shirt he wears underneath as he turns the sweatshirt inside out. "Here", he says, holding out the hoodie to me. I look up at him in question, not taking it from him.