primrose {h.s}

[9]: seventeen

"Harry...." I say quietly, getting up from the floor whilst fixing my clothes.

He laughs lightly and shake his head. "Sorry. That was just the sex talking, I didn't mean it."

I take a seat on the couch and get my book out of my backpack and started reading.

He laughs again but longer this time. "You're reading a book after sex? That's sexy."

"Yeah, last chapter and I'm dying to know the ending. Would've been done sooner but you know, had to blow you."

His firm lips pressed against my cheek and I smile. "I'm gonna make some burgers is that alright?" He asks.

"Mhm." I hum, reading the words in the book quicker than ever.

   

   When I was done reading I closed it and breathed out, feeling accomplished that I finished my millionth book. I didn't even realize that Harry had gotten up and started cooking. It smelt good and I hadn't known that he knew his way around the kitchen.

  "Smells good." I say while sitting down at the marble island. It was a great view of Harry. "I didn't know you could cook."

   "Yeah, I can make a few things." He chuckled. "Mind putting my hair in a ponytail?"

  "Not at all." When I was behind him I pulled his hair back and make sure every strand was in my hand. I wrapped the ponytail holder that was on my wrist around his lengthy locks and formed a bun. "All done." I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the smooth skin of his neck.

"That's one of my turn on's." He says quickly.

"Oh, yeah?" I smile. "Wanna go for round two but maybe this time... in me?"

  "I'll stop cooking right now and fuck you on that counter."

  I lean my head into his back and laugh.

  "I'm not joking, love." His voice was stern yet hot. "I will tease you and fuck the shit out of you. There's no holding back for me when I'm inside you. And I don't wanna hurt you."

  I release him and take a step back. "Hurt me?"

  He finishes up the food and turn off the stove and turns around. "Yes, Prim you're seventeen."

  "Are you fucking serious right now? You've been coming on to me since the day you met me. You ate me out and you— you're bringing up my age?"

  "Can we just talk? That's the only reason why I brought you here."

  "No, I'm seventeen." I scoff. "You think I can't handled getting fucked. You won't hurt me, Harry. I've been wanting to get fucked and I want to get fucked by you."

He doesn't say anything. He looks away from me and stares off to the side for a moment. It was torture waiting for him to say something. But he didn't, instead he turned back around and started making our plates.

"Sit down, I'll bring your food."

I don't say anything either, I just listened and when my plate was in front of me I didn't bother touching it. Harry sat in the stool next to me and he looked at me with such care in his eyes because that's what he felt. "Why aren't you eating?"

"I'm not hungry anymore. But I'll still sit here with you and help you clean everything."

He looks at me deeply and I didn't know why. Was he going to say something? Did he not want me helping? It was weird because no one has looked at me this long or like the way he did. I mean, he has food in front of him and he's worried about looking at me.

"Harry, say something you're being weird."

"I care about you." He finally speaks.

"Oh, fuck." I roll my eyes and head for the living room which wasn't far. "I'll just walk halfway home and tell my boyfriend to come get me."

Harry followed right behind me and he grabs my arm, turning me around. "Your boyfriend?" He questions.

"Yes. Boyfriend."

"You're not going anywhere."

"The fuck I am."

"Is this because I said I care about you?" He asks, he looks so confused I almost felt bad.

"No! Yes, no, it's not just that." I exhale. "I can't keep doing this. This honestly tears me apart. My mom finally found someone which is you and you make her happy. And you're messing around with her underage daughter. Who has a boyfriend who loves her but who's also incapable of loving."

"Prim, you're just ov—"

"This is wrong. So wrong. You're so beautiful, Harry. Inside and out and all over. But that doesn't matter. You said it yourself: I can't be what you need if I'm seventeen."

 
     By now we were just staring into each other eyes but not in a romantic, loving way. This was like semi-hatred. Like a break up. His silentness is what kills me. I just need him to say something to confirm that he understands and he'll leave me be.

  And he did.

 
   "You're right. You're not."