Golden [h.s.]

20. anchored

mature.
🎵Eyes on Fire — Blue Foundation

I walk through the entryway of Harry's apartment, him following close behind. I'm surprised at how comfortable I feel in his luxurious apartment, seeing that I've only been here one other time before.

"Shall we have some whiskey?" He asks and I turn to face him.

Tonight's events have made the energy between us take a complete 180, and I'm not sure what exactly to make of it. He's confessed his feelings, but I have yet to release mine into the open.

Harry's eyes aren't as glassy as earlier — maybe my screaming at him has sobered him up a little. Still, I've never been the one to deny a drink.

"Neat," I reply with a small smile, and Harry walks over to his kitchen. He pulls out a bottle of Jim Beam, a change from my usual Jack Daniels, and fills two glasses. I join him at the island, taking the same seat that I sat in last time I was here.

We each take a sip from our glasses; something's in the air between us. There always seems to be this invigorating pull when we're alone like this. It's almost as if I can hear the electricity buzzing in the space between us, drawing us toward one another.

I wonder what Harry's thinking as I turn to look up at him, only to see him already staring at me, his green eyes boring into mine.

I swallow hard, downing the rest of my drink. Why is it that his eyes always turn this shade of green when he's intoxicated? Almost as if they change with his moods — when he's cheerful and teasing, it's a light, mossy green; when he's deep in thought, they're seafoam, like the ocean's waves beating against the shore.

But now, they're a deep emerald. Emerald and sparkling like a bright light. No, not a light — they're burning deep like flames, burning with intensity as his gaze doesn't waver from mine, intoxicating me with their brilliance and depth.

Now we're both drunk; Harry off of the liquor, me off of him.

"What are you thinking?" I almost whisper. The whiskey is already taking effect. The world looks a bit hazy, but looking at Harry, it couldn't be clearer. I swallow hard as he smirks, taking a long drink from his own glass.

I suddenly wish I was the liquor he was drinking, so that I could be in his mouth, so his tongue would be tasting me.

"You know, love," Harry starts, pulling me from my thoughts as he leans over the island. He moves his hand up slowly, grabbing a strand of my hair, and placing it behind my ear, just like how he always seems to do. My heart feels as though it's beating out of my chest.

"This isn't fair. I'm always telling you what I'm thinking." Harry gently taps the side of my head with his index finger. "But I never seem to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

He pulls away from the island, walking around it. Each cell in my body is aware of his every move, my gaze tracking him. Harry suddenly swings the stool around so that I'm facing him. My pulse quickens.

He reaches over me for his drink and swallows the rest of it down with one gulp. He sets it back down and then rests his hands on the granite top on either side of me. I'm forced to look at him. I can smell the whiskey on his tongue; the thought of his tongue makes my mouth water.

"My muse...you have no idea how much power you have over me," Harry murmurs, his finger reaching out to trace my lips.

His muse.

The way my body reacts to the words is almost wicked. I've only ever seen him this way that night after Lotus; the memory of what happened between us that night makes my skin blaze.