Aquarelle [h.s]

eleven

"How do you feel about a hot chocolate?" I couldn't help but ask, looking at him as he trembled. I definitely should've told him to put on something warmer than the thin white shirt that he was wearing. "It's the least I can offer you after having made you freeze for over an hour."

He looked at me, cupping his hands in front of his mouth and blowing hot air between them, trying to warm himself up quicker. "I'd like that, actually" he replied quietly, and I nodded.

"I know a good place" I said, starting to walk towards it a bit faster than usual, not wanting to waste too much time with our little detour, considering that our session was almost over and we were still quite far away from the studio.

We reached it quickly and I ordered two hot chocolates, paying for them even before Harry could consider opening his wallet. After all, I'd just taken him for a walk around London and asked him to pose severely underdressed for more than thirty minutes at that point, paying for his drink truly was the least I could've done.

I took the two cups when they were done and brought them to a free table near the window, shortly followed by Harry, where we took off our coats and sat down.

"So, tell me about your job" I asked, observing him as he gently stirred the sugar into his hot chocolate.

He looked up at me, stopping his actions, a somewhat surprised look in his eyes at the question he hadn't expected. "What about it?" He asked back, putting the spoon back on the saucer.

"What are you editing right now?" I asked him, curiously. Even though it'd already been some days since he'd told me what he did, I still hadn't completely come to terms with it. It was weird to think that someone like Harry worked with books, but the most surprising thing to me was that I couldn't really find it that surprising at all, sitting in front of him. He seemed to be quite calm and well spoken, gentle even, not different from what I'd expect someone with a similar job to be like. It was just odd to come to terms with the fact that he was the same person I'd known and dated all those years before. "If you can tell me, of course" I added quickly, not having considered that there could be some secrecy around it, considering that it involved books that were yet to be published.

He gave me a little unreadable glance, blowing on his cup before slowly taking a sip, his eyes not leaving mine for the short second it lasted. "It's the first book of an amateur writer" he replied, and I gave him an interested nod.

"What is it about?" I asked, wanting to know what kind of stuff he worked with - if there was a specific genre at all, and he didn't just edit whatever he was asked to edit.

He pursed his lips together, looking at the table for a second and raising his eyebrows in faint judgement. "It's four hundred pages of a high school romance."

I pressed my lips together to keep a smile from showing through at his halfheartedness. "Do you like it?"

He cleared his throat, the slightly judgemental look finding its way back onto his face. "Let's simply say I don't think I'm the target audience for it and leave it at that."

I laughed at his reply, finding the thought of Harry having to read teen romances for work hilarious. "Well, maybe it's a good thing, so you aren't biased and can see things how they actually are" I replied, trying to find the positive side of it.

"That's certainly true" he said, taking another sip of his hot chocolate and glancing out of the window.

I tilted my head, staring at him stare outside. The faint grey-bluish light of the sky outside enlightened his face, making his eyes look clearer and of a green that slightly tilted towards blue, his lips slightly parted and chapped. I knew that if we'd been in another position I would've certainly taken a picture or sketched him, but we weren't, so I resisted the urge to do so, and I just stared at him until he looked at me again.