The Only Exception | W2S

TWENTY(!).

"Yeah," I say softly, and I feel like I'm melting into him. 

This is dangerous. 

"Good. It's only a ten minute walk, but I reckon I can get us there in seven," he says, before taking off. 

The wind blows against my face, and my hair is blowing everywhere, but I'm too happy, and drunk to care. I'm in Italy - I'm in Italy with Harry, and I'm on his back, and -

I'm on his back. 

"Don't fall asleep up there," Harry jokes, gently tapping my leg with two of his fingers.

"I'm not!" I reply adamantly, tapping his chest in return with one of my hands. 

We reached the villa faster than I thought, and when Harry set me down, I stumbled slightly, but he caught me before I could fall. His hands lingered on my waist, and I found myself looking up at him, his face illuminated by the faint glow of the porch light.

"You good?" he asked, his voice soft, his hands still steadying me.

"Yeah," I whispered, the warmth of his hands sending a shiver down my spine.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The air between us was thick, charged, like something unsaid was waiting to spill out.

"Thanks for the lift," I finally said, my voice barely audible.

His lips quirked into a small smile, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. "Anytime."

We stood there for a moment longer, the night quiet around us, before Harry finally stepped back, letting his hands drop to his sides. "We should get some water or something."

I nodded, following him inside. The villa was silent, but the lights had been left on for us. In the kitchen, Harry poured two glasses of water, handing me one. Our fingers brushed, and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me. I nearly dropped the glass, but Harry steadied my hand, his touch lingering.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low, his eyes searching mine.

"Sorry," I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Come on, we should probably head to bed," he says quietly, leading the way towards the bedrooms. 

I nod, choosing silence, and follow him down the corridor. Truthfully, I didn't want the night to end. It had been... nice. I hadn't embarrassed myself, hadn't put a foot wrong, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I hadn't been paralysed by overthinking or crushed by anxiety. I'd just... existed. With him.

We reach our rooms, and he stops outside his door, while I hesitate in front of mine.

"I should—" I start, my voice faltering, the words sticking in my throat.

"You should what, Holly?" His voice is so low it's barely audible, but it sends a shiver racing down my spine.

"I should go to bed," I manage, my voice quiet, my resolve wavering. I lift my gaze to meet his, and his eyes lock onto mine. The intensity of his stare roots me to the spot. I should look away. I know I should. But I can't. I'm drawn to him, and it's clear he feels the same pull.

He nods slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "Yeah," he croaks. "I should too."

"Goodnight," I whisper, though my voice is tight, my heart hammering against my ribcage. Everything I'd worked so hard to bury has surfaced, raw and undeniable. If I don't retreat now, I'll lose every shred of self-control I've clung to.

I push my door open and shut it quickly behind me, leaning back against the wood as if it's the only thing holding me upright. My breaths are shallow, my chest heaving, and my thoughts are spiralling.