From The Dining Table [H.S]

Fate

"Yes. I'm going to stand here," he moves to the end of the room, "and you will walk towards me, like your life depends on it. Sissy. That. Walk." He tells me, snapping his finger on the last part.

For the next 10 minutes, I walked up and down that room around 70 times, striking poses, whipping hair, blowing kisses - basically acting like I'm a Victoria's Secret Angel.

"One more time!" Angel yells, going on his phone to restart the song.

"Okay, but this is the last time." I say sternly, but secretly enjoying how confident I felt.

As my feet began to strike the floor, I grabbed the scrunchie holding my hair up and pulled it out - letting my thick, brown curls fall to my shoulders. Running my hands up my body, I ruffled my hair, before flipping it over my shoulder like I was in a shampoo advert. When I reached Angel, I hit three, strong poses: left arm up and right arm on hip, both hands on hips, and blowing a kiss.

Angels jaw hung open, as he slowly clapped in disbelief. "What... in the fuck... did I just see?"

"I believe it's called a catwalk." A voice says presumptuously. Angel and I both shoot our eyes to the door, and my jaw too was now hanging open.

There, leant against the doorway, wearing a white tshirt and grey joggers, was the man I've missed more than words can explain. His curls hung loosely over his forehead, slightly shadowing those beautiful emeralds I love so much. His smirk was light and genuine, and a small corner of his blinding, pearly teeth peeked out the side of his mouth.

"Harry!" I yell, running over and throwing my arms around him - almost knocking him over from the force. His stunning scent of tobacco and vanilla comfortably invited itself back into my nose, as his large, dominant hands wrapped themselves firmly around my waist.

"Hey, baby." He whispers into my ear - his breath tingling against my neck. Pulling my head out of Harry's shoulder, I gazed into his eyes for a few moments, before smashing my lips into his. I'd missed this feeling - the fizzing of excitement I get in my stomach when we touch, the giddiness that simply overtakes me when I see him smile.

Our lips lapped over each-other as our tongues fought for dominance in one another's mouth. My hands sat tightly against his neck, as his hand trailed sneakily onto my bum. Harry pulled at my bottom lip, causing me to wince slightly at the small amount of pain, which was soon washed away with our fiery passion eating me alive.

"Girl... don't be touching her like that without consent." Angel scolds from the corner of the room, and Harry and I immediately stop kissing. Feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment, I peek up at Harry, who is also red in the face.

"Angel, it's fine. He can touch my bum." I laugh, removing my hands from Harry's neck and bringing them down his body; hovering them over his muscular chest for a few moments before dropping them to my side.

"Mmhm. Just looking out for you." He whispers behind his hand, giving Harry a melodramatic, sceptical look. Obviously hearing Angels jab, Harry turns around to face him, smiling widely. Angel quickly switches his expression to an extremely forced grin, earning a laugh from both me and Harry.

"Don't worry - he's just acting tough. Deep down, he's fangirling so hard." I say quietly to Harry. "Did you know, he used to be a massive One Direction fan?" I whisper, loud enough so Angel can hear. Harry flicks his eyes between Angel and I, as a grin grew rapidly over his face.

"Primrose!" Angel scolds, stamping his foot and clenching his fists like a 5 year old. "Why would you do that?" He wines, before storming away in a huff into the kitchen.