Bullied for Love

One hand

The car ride wasn't at all long. We arrive. My first impression of the place as of the moment is pretty good. The theme is well embodied outside of the building. The building was much of an Indian cultural décor, kind of makes me feel bad about my choice of wardrobe I mean, Harry looks quite nice. He has on a light blue button up, (two buttons down) sleeves cuffed to the elbow, dark jeans and boots. He looks good..
Then again the boy is a fine sight at all times.

Come to think of it, I wonder how he feels about this whole situation that happened earlier this morning, he seems to not have any comment about it, not sure if I should concern but it was weird how it all eventually went into place. I wonder how he thought it was. good? bad? but then again, overthinking is never swell so eventually I'll just have to accept that he and I have commuted something together.

First thing I see is dim light, wooden tables and a settled atmosphere with swinging music. The smell was grand, Indian food not to my surprise. We waited a few moments until we were guided to our table in the far back. We were seated pretty much our of sight for the most part which got me relieved to for some sort.
The decor of the entire inside was nice. The table cloths had nice welcoming color plastered everywhere and plenty of cool zen tangle designs to top it off. the lights around we're pretty basic, nothing special. It was all around a pleasant experience.

"Will that be all for your order as for now Ladies and Sir"

"Yes that'll be all, thank you.... Shiraz"
Harry says in all business like as he hands him the menus and Shiraz gives him a neutral head bow and grin. We were all enjoying ourselves. Mom and Anne chatting amongst themselves and ranting on how hungry they are and what they ordered because quite frankly, none of us know what to expect out of these dishes other than there will be chicken in it. They sat on one side and us on the other, even though our table was in more of a c-formation. I glance around and watch my atmosphere, the usual day dream.

I gasp at his touch. I give him a a glance and he has a smirk plastered on his lips. "Harry stop" I whisper to only himself. He remains teasing and keeping it cool. I bluntly reach under the table and remove his hand from my lower thigh. I can't go through his torture, not while our parents are here. I ignore his blank stare at me and continue to remain in my own world.

A few moments later our dinner arrived. It smelled and looked delicious. "Finally!" mom burst out. It was funny watching them attack their meals so barbarian-like. My meal looked good. It was chicken, rice, potato purée along with many spices coating the chicken and purée. The variety of spices tingle at my tastebuds and it made me feel satisfied. While eating, mother decided to ask questions about the trip. Unfortunately, Harry had other ideas. I continue a simple conversation with mother and Anne, when a palm and cold fingers touched my knee. I chilled at his touch, I remain neutral and give him a small glance. The misfortune is that he wasn't looking at me, he continued to eat with one hand, and torture my frustration with the other and a striking smirk plastered on his lips. This time I did not remove, I simply thought he would do no more, I was wrong.