camp cherry two | hs

twenty four

"How'd I look, Cherry?" he asks, his tone almost smug; he knows he's hot as fuck and he likes it.

"Holy fuck, you look so hot," my words are nearly a whisper as I rush forward and grab the lapels of his jacket, unable to believe he pulled this off so well.

His cheeks flush at the compliment, shaking his head dismissively, "finish doing your hair, we've got about an hour."

"Do I need to curl your hair?"

"No—"

"Looking a little flat today."

"Leave me alone."

"Maybe I'll straighten it."

"No, thank you."

"Out, then," I smile, staring in the mirror and trying not to ruin my hair, smiling as he comes near me and I lightly kick at him, repeating when he still doesn't leave. "Go on, out."

"Wow, I see," he mumbles with a frown, turning to leave finally, "just wanted to get you off before the wedding."

"No, we're on a tight schedule!" I call firmly as I hear him flop down onto the bed with a tired sigh, images of his head between my legs so early and on such a stressful day flashing through my mind, making me consider it. I stay strong, however, refusing to give in to the temptation.

"You're tighter!"

"Hilarious! Do your hair! Get some food!"

"You're bossy today," he observes as he joins me in the bathroom once again and runs his hands under cold water for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair effortlessly. He stands up straight, his hair in perfect place, and I stare at him, quite offended. "What? Do you not like my hair?"

"You just ran water through it once and it's perfect, how?"

"It's just how it is," he shrugs carelessly, leaning in to kiss my neck once before he removes the straighteners from my hand, retaining eye contact with my reflection as he continues with my hair; brushing each section gently, running the heat over them two or three times and twisting it slightly at the end. Once again, just like braiding my hair, he's surprisingly good at it, slipping his hands underneath my hair and puffing it out a little, resting his touch on my shoulders and his chin on the top of my head. "You look stunning, Cherry."

"Thank you, so do you," I smile happily, turning my attention onto the array of makeup scattered across the counter.

"You don't need that stuff, Han," Harry interrupts my curiosity, stood once again by the doorway.

"I wasn't gonna do too much," I remark quietly, contemplating on how heavy to go on the whole makeup thing, especially since I never wear makeup on a day-to-day basis as I don't find it particularly comfortable and it's unnecessary to me. Although I don't apply it every day, it means that my makeup skills for special days such as this one are greatly insufficient; I can't do winged eyeliner if I tried and my resources are rather limited.

"Just your eyelashes, okay? You don't need anything else, you don't need anything, but if it makes you feel better..." he trails off, rummaging through the messy bag to pull out mascara, of which I carefully apply a few layers. Harry sits unsuspectingly on the toilet whilst he waits for me and I secretly consider putting mascara on his own eyelashes, though they're already naturally unfairly long.

He must have sensed my gaze as he flickers his eyes to mine, frowning confusedly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking how great it'd be if you showed up with makeup on," I chuckle quietly as he comes up behind me, grasping my chin in one hand and easily forcing my head straight, my eyes staring straight into themselves through the shiny mirror.