Artifice

Paint Fight

I hate myself for this, but it was bound to come sooner or later. (Psa: Harry's hair in the story is obviously longer than how it is in the picture, it's just the pic reflects this chapter a bit so I'm using it)

Eva's POV

By the time that my phone showed, I only managed to get in a few hours of sleep.

The sun was out and I didn't think I could possibly go back to sleep any time soon. Instead of staying in bed, I got out and lazily made my way to the bathroom. I was feeling significantly better this morning, brushing my teeth didn't make me gag and food actually sounded appetizing once again.

I shrieked as I turned the corner to find someone in my kitchen.

"Fuck, Harry!" I stomped my feet on the ground. "I forgot you were here." I put my hand over my heart to feel how fast it was beating.

"Sorry," he giggled and licked his finger.

"What are you doing?" I stalked over to him.

"Making tea." He lifted up his cup.

Harry slept on the couch last night. We didn't spend much of any time talking since we both grew tired a half hour after he came.

"Very British of you." I mumbled.

"Coffee?" He asked as I walked over to our coffee pot. "Very American of you." He retorted and I cackled.

"Touché my friend." I plugged in the machine and retrieved the things I needed, not a word coming from Harry. "Shouldn't you be heading to work today?" I asked.

"I... Called off."

"What, why?" This boy.

"Don't worry about it love." Hearing him call me love sounded way better than I ever thought it would.

"So are you initiating that you want to spend the day with me?"

"Nah, I was going to leave after I was finished this cup." I looked back at him with an insulted expression. "Joking."

-

"Grab the paint brush Harry Styles." I felt like I was talking to a child.

"I'm not good at painting Evangeline Abate."

"You should really try at least. It can be fun, even liberating."

"How can putting color on a piece of white cloth be liberating?" He scoffed and I wanted to throw a bucket of paint in his face.

"You are so closed minded you know?"

He ignored my comment. "This is a lovely room by the way." He walked around observing the walls that were painted.

Lizzy put up a fight but I convinced her to let me transform the extra room we had, into a sort of art studio for myself. The room contained a few canvases that were used to the side, a wooden table with all my tools, a few easels and a layer of plastic material on the floor that took me ages to properly tape to the ground.

"You painted the walls yourself?" He pointed at one wall that was covered in a colorful sunset I remember doing one night that I couldn't sleep.

"Yup." I said while squeezing paint onto paper plate for him.

We talked for a while about how I grew to love art. He seemed interested in my boring life story, which made no sense to me.

"What about you?" We were sat on the ground. I completely disregarded the paint that I set out for him to use.

We always talked about me, it was only rarely that we would discuss anything relating to his personal life. I got the feeling that if I never walked into him fighting his father, I wouldn't even know about who he was to Harry.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" He questioned.

"Your interest in literature, tell me more. A person doesn't just have a million books at their apartment and not have anything to say about it." I sat up, pulling my knees up to my chest.

"I-" he seemed like he didn't have any words to put together. "From what you've told me art seems to be a form of therapy for you, am I right?" I nodded. "That's what reading and writing is for me. It was my escape."

"Escape from what?" I asked.

"Reality." That's deep. "Sounds dramatic I know." He looked away at the ceiling.

"No, I get it."

"I spent most of my childhood alone, while George was out collecting money and my mother was catering to his needs. It's pathetic really." He sheepishly smiled. "I would go to that office space and write about how I wanted to be one of those little building stars, so I wouldn't be alone. Writing made me feel better, I was putting all my emotions and thoughts into paper, it was easy and harmless." I watched him, trying to read his neutral expression. I couldn't make out what he was feeling. "Reading fascinated me, I loved that I could enter a whole new world with different characters and conflicts. Christ, I'm being so sappy."

"For a boy that puts himself out there to the world as an emotions less prick, you sure are just a big ball of mush." I said jokingly.

"Am not." He complained.

"You are the mushiest of them all." I teased.

He quickly lifted himself up, reaching his hand on to the table and swiping a thick amount of paint on his fingers.

"Really?" He threatened with his fingered up in the air.

"Real-" before I could finish, his fingers lunged to my face leaving a cold blotch of red paint on my face. "You." I playfully glared at him.

"Me." He sang.

I picked up a bottle of paint and carelessly squirted a long line of the blue paint onto his white shirt, his mouth dropping.

He quickly grabbed another bottle, this one was golden paint. One of his hands caught mine and held them, while the other poured the paint onto my head.

"Harry!" I screamed feeling my head be drenched by the liquid.

The paint stopped coming and I was being pushed back, until I was stopped by the wall.

His eyes were happily searching every inch of my face. His playful smile turned into a cynical smirk and I swallowed loudly.

"You seriously have a mood swing problem." I said feeling short breathed.

"Maybe." He quickly connected our lips. His hands wandering down my waist then back up to my face.

We were drenched in paint but I couldn't care less.

His body pushed me more onto the surface, his hands slowly wandered up to my hands, pinning then up against the wall as our mouths went about it.

"I need you." He mumbled as I pulled away to catch my breath. He didn't waste anytime, leaning back down to place soft kisses down my neck.

He passionately kissed my lips again, his hands now wandering to my thighs to push me up to straddle his waist.

I could feel the smile forming on his lips as he carried me then lifted my body down onto the floor.

"We can stop if you want." He was panting above me.

"I hope you know, you're changing the plastic wrap on the floor." I teased.

I reached out for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, revealing his bare chest and pulled him back down to meet my lips again.

-

This is the most sexual this story will get. I AM too young and inexperienced to write a dirty scene so don't expect that from me :). But yay Eva+Harry have sexo and are happy.