"Are you about ready to leave?" Harry asks in a bored tone as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, an exaggerated sigh leaving his lips. I glance through my shoulder and shoot him a glare, to which he responds with a grin. "Bambi, you've been staring at the mirror for the past five minutes. You look great, c'mon, let's go."
"Why're you in such a hurry?" I question as I, once again, pull my hair into a ponytail. I can't seem to decide whether I want to let my hair down or up.
"Because I'm excited," he answers casually. From the reflection in the mirror, I can see him biting his lips, his cheeks turning red slightly. I'm sure he doesn't think I can see him from here. "Also, because you're taking too long to get ready. I was right, wasn't I?"
I roll my eyes, ignoring his last statement. "Are you sure you don't want to celebrate Christmas with your family instead?"
"Positive," he replies quickly as he begins to make his way towards me.
Harry takes my hair tie from me and throws it on my bed. I freeze, unsure of what to do next and of what he's going to do next. Despite the fact that we haven't exactly talked about it, I'm certain that both of us notice that things have been different since the kiss we had about a week ago. It's like we're more open to each other – of course, there are things about him that I still haven't figured out – and it's like we're no longer living in a state of denial. I am no longer living in that state. He still doesn't know about my feelings, for it's the one thing I decide to keep to myself up until now, but a part of me has a hunch that he knows.
"Cat got your tongue?" He smirks as he pushes a strand of hair away from my face.
"Thanks," I say instead.
He kinks an eyebrow at me. "Thanks?"
I will my cheeks not to blush even though I know it's a futile attempt. My cheeks turn red anyway and I can't look away to hide my face because Harry's standing in front of me, a few inches away. Someone needs to remind him that personal space exists.
"Have I told you how much I love it when you blush?"
Again, I roll my eyes and scoff. "If I get a dollar each time you say that, I'd be able to afford this place."
He laughs, the mere sound of his laughter making my heart beat a little faster. I hate that. "And she's back," he mentions, a pout adorning his lips. "You'd think after the kiss, you'd be less mean to me."
"You're delusional, then."
"Am I?" He cocks an eyebrow as though to challenge me to prove him wrong.
"Shut up," I shove him, making my way past him to grab my coat from my closet. Once I've done so, I turn to look at him and say, "What're you waiting for? Weren't you the one who's so excited to celebrate Christmas with my family?"
He grins, crossing the room to get to me. "Wanna know why I'm excited?"
"Cos your Christmas sucks."
"True," he nods, still grinning, "And cos we get to pretend to be a couple this weekend so you know what that mea-"
Before he gets to finish his sentence, I walk away from him, muttering, "You're despicable."
I don't get to go too far from him before he catches up with me, "What, don't tell me you're not excited for that?"
"Why would I?" I ask rhetorically, giving him a pointed look, "I'm not excited to pretend to be your wife."
"Huh," he huffs, shrugging as he moves to stand in front of the door, "I thought you'd be excited cos you'd have excuses to kiss me."
I frown, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Who says I want to kiss you?"
