Paper Airplane

37

and here is probably the worst chapter this story has seen thus far. i apologize for a ridiculous wait, but i really have no excuse other than college and being caught up in literally everything that life has to offer, the good and the bad. either way, enjoy and let me know what you think. x

Chapter Thirty-Seven

 

 

                I stumbled over the threshold into our hotel room, releasing a giggle I’d have normally stifled.  My shoulder slammed into the doorway, and as I caught myself on the nightstand near Harry’s bed, his hands found my waist to steady me.  I heard him chuckling as he reached for the door and closed it behind us.

                “That was fun,” I told him, spinning within his grasp to face him, “but I want to keep dancing.”

                He wore a sloppy grin like a birthmark, unable to get rid of it.  “It’s late.”

                I tugged on the ends of his jacket.  “Please?  We can dance here.”  When he didn’t respond, I slid my hands to his shoulders and then around his neck.  “I mean, we practically are already.”

                “We’re literally just standing here,” he countered, but he was contemplating it.  I knew he was.

                “We’re literally in the perfect slow-dancing position.”

                One of his hands disappeared from my waist, and I watched as he fumbled in his coat pocket for his phone.  Was he really about to do what I thought he was going to do?  Right now? 

                “Harry…” I began, but he glanced up at me and winked.  And then a familiar tune began to play, albeit quietly.  He returned his hand to my waist and tugged me closer.

                “One song,” he said, “and then we need to sleep.”

                His voice was lower now, more of a whisper and slightly slurring.  I could smell hints of the alcohol we’d both consumed on his breath and could see it in his eyes, could see that he’d had too much.  I wonder if mine looked the same. 

                We swayed back and forth to the song for a while, both of us tired, both of us wishing we weren’t.  I played with the curls at the nape of his neck as the song progressed, and every few seconds or so he seemed to press me even closer to him than I was before.  I didn’t mind.  I really didn’t.

                When the song ended, another one began.  Another slow song.  Harry didn’t suggest we go to bed again, and neither did I. 

                “I know you don’t like compliments, but, uh,” Harry mumbled, clearing his throat.  “You looked…  You know, you looked great tonight.”

                He couldn’t see my smile, for which I was grateful.  I nestled my nose into the crook of his neck, which in hindsight was an awful idea considering that put my lips and his bare skin in entirely too close proximity to each other and I was so far past having good judgment tonight.  So I closed my eyes to help fight it.

                “Thank you,” I whispered.  I don’t know if I imagined it, but I was pretty sure a slight shudder shook his frame.  I brushed my thumb slowly over the back of his neck, hoping it’d calm him.