under the covers [hs au]

chapter twenty-four.

Samira's heart was full.

And as Harry's grew everyday, everything became a bit overwhelming.

They spent their days having fun together, each making an effort to be entirely engaged. It was a calm and cool Saturday night—the perfect conditions to dance to The Beatles at the underground Cavern Club.

It had an earthy smell, fancy brick walls, and dim lights—Harry held Samira's waist, being mindful with his feet as twirled her around to the live music.

Samira watched him as though he were the only person in the room. Every second, he became more beautiful, and she fell deeper and deeper, eyes caught in the depth of his. The faint lights did his divine complexion well, and his smile shined brighter than anyone else's. It was astonishing to remember how wilted he once was now that he had bloomed all on his own.

Every time Samira caught Harry's eyes lingering longer than they should, she could hear her father's voice:

I love you more today than yesterday.

By the end of the night, adrenaline pumped vicariously through her veins. They ran up the stairs and out of the club, passionately making out in a corner. Her back was against cold bricks; his hands groped her backside, giggles erupting from Samira. And when their taxi arrived, they kissed in the backseat, lips throbbing.

Later that night, Samira gingerly tucked Harry into his bed, listening quietly to his drunken words. She watched his lips move, hearing everything he said. Soon enough, his eyes came closed, his head resting on her chest.

It was late, almost noon, when the sun woke Samira up. The bed was empty; Harry had gone out for a run.

Samira yawned profoundly, stretching as she heard the loud cracks of her body. She looked through the window, seeing dark clouds on the other side of the city. At least it wasn't always raining as it used to because now she and Harry could find moments to go out for walks again.

The door of the bedroom opened—Harry stepped in. He wore a beanie, a pair of black joggers, and a grey hoodie drenched in sweat.

"You look gross," she commented, cringing jocularly.

"Good morning to you, too," Harry replied, laughing. "Will you get in the shower with me?"

"Ew, no."

"Yes." Harry walked toward her, grabbing her ankle. Samira squealed at his unanticipated actions.

"Okay! I will," she shrieked, pulling her leg away from him.

"You've been waking up late," he mentioned, taking his beanie off, then his hoodie. "Wasn't your period over a few days ago?"

Samira looked down at the chipped polish on her nails.

"Yeah," she answered, feeling a pang of guilt.

When Samira pulled her shirt off in the bathroom, she had a hard time studying herself in the mirror. Her hair touched the top of her shoulders; she noticed a bit of the flesh that once clung to her hips disappeared.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, twirling her hair in his fingers.

Samira blinked, looking from the mirror. "Nothing."

Luckily, he asked nothing more, pulling her in the shower with him. Samira stood in front of Harry, biting the inside of her cheek. He put his big arms around her neck, allowing the warm water to hit their skin.

"Babe," he mumbled, squeezing her. She could feel his wet lips pressing kisses to her temple—it made her smile.

"What?"