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Rosie's POV
Here I lay, under the covers, facing Harry as his hand trails up and down my back and arm. His curls were flailed and his skin was shining, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at me.
During the intimate time, he tried to be as gentle as possible, but it obviously wouldn't stop my tears. It reminded me of getting raped, it reminded me of my psycho father. But after about 20 minutes of just a few tears and a lot of convincing and comforting words, I had realized that this was Harry. Harry, who wouldn't never hurt me, like he said, and would do anything to protect me, like he said, and I could tell he hated seeing me like that. No control over anything, and crying. I was kind of just tearing up, but he didn't want that. He kept going, even though I could tell he was hurt because he knew what was going through my head.
But after the decent time we shared, I knew I really did love Harry with all of my heart.
"I love you." I whispered, my arms pressed to my chest and my hands under my chin. Harry had boxers on and I was in one of his shirts that was too big for his own self, so it was like a nightgown on me.
"I love you too, Rosie O's." He mumbled, laughing after.
"I'm not sure how I feel about that name." I grinned.
"I think it will stick." He says, nodding.
"I think it won't."
"Probably will." He continues nodding.
"I'll take my words back." I threatened jokingly.
"You know what, nevermind. That nickname was overrated anyways." He laughs.
"Exactly." I agreed.
"Are you still upset?" He changes the subject to something more serious.
"I was never upset," I mumbled, realizing there were tears still built up in my eyes, "especially not with you."
"Why are you crying, then." He says, moving his thumb under my eyelids.
"I don't know."
"I'm sorry." He mumbles.
"Don't be, it was good for me." I flashed a smile as I grabbed his hand that was on my cheek, bringing it between our faces. I rubbed with my thumb, the small area between his thumb and pointer finger.
"Okay." Harry replies.
There was a long silence, and I just closed my eyes every once and a while, then opening them.
"You want pancakes?" Harry asks.
My heart skipped a beat at the word that I adored: pancakes. "But isn't it like 1:30 in the afternoon." I said sadly.
"It's never too late for pancakes." Harry smiles, squeezing my hand. "Especially when my favorite girl in the whole world likes them."
"I might just like them more than you." I smirk, rolling away from his gaze and touch, then stepping out of the covers and onto the cold floor.
Harry gasped exaggeratively. "You're horrible."
"I'm a heart breaker." I joked, Harry knowing that I've only dated one guy and he broke up with me because he had an eye for a "hotter girl that will give me what I want". What a douche he was, indeed.
"We gonna make some cakes er what hot stuff." I skipped around in my long shirt. Or my dress. Harrys too big of shirt, aka my dress. It didn't even fit him.
