Hitlist | h.s

Thirty-seven

The next morning, I woke up to the scent of freshly baked goods and the intoxicating sweetness of warm English breakfast tea, sprinkled with a dash of decaying rose petals. The fragrance lingered thorough the air, drifting up my nose and settling in like a welcome guest. Not only was there a delicious aroma floating, I could faintly hear the melodious tune of an Ed Sheeran song softly playing in the background.

The spot on the bed next to me lacked Harry’s presence. Where he previously lay, cold covers were abandoned. I winced at the vast emptiness, raising up onto my elbows to look around the exquisite room.

It was dim, the only light being that of the streams peeking through the sides of the shade, but that was enough for me to notice the curly-haired boy sitting at the dining table a few feet shy of the door. He looked to be jotting words on paper, lip consumed in his mouth and brows pulled close.

“Harry,” I whined, drawing out the word as I plopped back down into the bed. He laughed, skin around his eyes crinkling like the bed sheets I laid on.

“Sleepyhead!” He beamed, standing to his feet and stretching his arms far out to the sides. “Come give me a huuug!”

“Eat my ass,” I growled, pulling a pillow over my face.

“I didn’t know you were into that.” I could hear the smirk in his voice, making my cheeks flood with crimson.

“I’m not!”

“Mmmmhm.”

“Harry,” I groaned, pulling the object from my face to look at the boxer-clad boy whose arms were still outstretched wide like angel wings.

“If you don’t come hug me I’m gonna jump on you.”

I grunted in disapproval, closing my eyes and pulling the blankets higher over my underwear adorned body.

“You ass. Just get me a croissant.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Get me a mother fucking croissant?”

“Please. The magic word is please.”

“Ugh.”

“You’re sassy in the morning,” he chuckled.

“Like I’m not the rest of the time?” my voice sighed. I rid the soft, downy pillow to the floor and looked up at the dimple curving deep into his cheek.

“You are… but that’s one of the reasons I love you.”

I love you.

The words sounded like a sweet symphony, conducted with perfect artistry and played by only the finest. I couldn’t hold back the smile that stretched from ear to ear.

 “I love you too, Harry.”

He looked like a kid who was told he was being taken on a trip to Disneyworld.

“Now can I have a hug?”

I sat up abruptly, taking him by surprise and pulling him onto the mattress with me so that his body tumbled over mine like a weed. I rolled us over until I hovered over his bare chest. My legs straddled around his hips.

“This is quite a hug,” he breathed before I placed my lips onto his, moving with the rhythm of the slow, easy melody. When I pulled away, I was blessed by the beautiful face of Harry smiling the biggest I had ever seen.

“Psst,” he whispered, “guess what.”

“What?” I giggled, rubbing my nose against his with sweet eskimo kisses.