"I don't want to talk or hear about him." I shrug, unwrapping my arms from around Harry's arm. I sit up, no longer leaning against him and just sit in the crack of the couch, aka my favorite spot. I turned cold, and was slowly regretting leaving Harry's warmth.
"I'm sorry." He mumbles. I show him a small smile, to say that I wasn't mad or anything. He opens his arm along the back of the couch, inviting me to come back into his side. I don't decline, and slowly maneuver back under his arm. He was so warm, and his grey hoodie was very soft, I loved it. Especially on him. Harry switches off the news, and puts it into Comedy Central channel, then turns the volume down.
"I'm worried about you, Rosie." Harry blurts out of no where. My body freezes, and my heart beats fast. Why would he? It's not like I have a murderer after me...
"I've seen you during two panic attacks and it was the worst time of my life. I hated seeing you so sad and shook up. I never want that to happen again, so when I said that I have a plan for your father-- I just though that I was doing you a favor by making you less worried and stress and-"
"Shut up, Harry." I snort. My head was rested on his chest, and I could feel him tense up. "I won't have any more panic attacks, and I'm not sad about anything anymore. Just straight up fucking pissed off at him. Id like to kill him, honestly." I laugh. Harry lets out a deep chuckle, which relieved me that he got the fact that I don't like being serious about this. We have talked about it before, and honestly, I would probably have to punch something numerous times if we started a serious conversation about my father. And my mom for being a damsel and believing that fucking dickhead. I'm getting carried away.
There was a moment of quietness as we both cuddled there on the couch, the tele practically on mute is was so faint. His breathing made me so relaxed, I felt my eyelids get heavy. I looked at the screen, and it was only 8 pm. Wow, I sure am a party pooper. I yawn, and cover my mouth as Harry's large hand grazes my side. Then Harry yawns, and laughs.
"Contagious." He says in a low, raspy voice. He was tired too. Maybe he did have a tough day at work?
He puts his hands under my arms, and pulls my bottom onto his lap.
"What're you doin?" I say, as he curls his arms under my knees and back. I know exactly what he's doing. I chuckle as he stands with me in his arms, and I was surprised. I wasn't short and tiny, no. I was more average. I think the last time I got measured I was like 5'8 or something. So, yeah. I could understand if he struggled with my lengthy body.
He smiles at me as he slowly walks through the barely lit apartment. Then out of no where, he quickly pecks my lips and then pulls back, and continues walking to the room. I hold back giggles.
He brings me into the spacious master, and walks to my side of the bed.
"Ready?" He says, his eyebrows perched.
"For what? Bed? Yes of course I am." I answer.
"One..." He says tauntingly. "Two..." He says In a low voice, and starts to lightly swing me back and forth.
"Woah! Hell no!" I yell. "Harry!" And I think of something he hates: tickling. I snake one hand over his rib cage and another on the other side.
Harry laughs. "Rosie, Rosie-" he says my name. "Come on now." He warns. I just laugh. "Stop!" Harry utters in the midst of laughing.
"Fine! Okay! I won't." He conveys. I stop, and he lightly sets me down.
I don't move, and just stand in Harry's hard gaze on me. "You know, now I'm not tired." I complain.
Harry's emotionless face soon turns into a smirk, and I know exactly what he's thinking. And it was most definitely not going to happen.
