Incandescent | H.S

Part One: Cherry Lips & Cocktails

"H! You made it! How's it going? Had a good night?" His friend Evan who owned the gallery with his partner approached him with a hug which he returned, begrudgingly peeling his gaze away from you to focus on his mate.

"Hey, how are ya? Love the place mate, you've done a bloody good job. Got my eye on a few pieces."

"Oh great, you can just leave your info with Tom and he'll be able to secure them for you. Hey, a bunch of us are headed to a lounge down the road for drinks. Welcome to join if you're down."

"Yeah bro, of course. Would be good to have a proper catch up. Who else is coming?"

"Uh," his friend scratched his brow and scanned the room. "Just a few from the gallery. Celebrate the opening and that."

Harry scanned his mental calendar and while he planned to head home after this and invite one of his female friends over to relieve some stress, he found himself saying, "I'll be there. We leaving soon, then?"

His friend nodded, "I just need to do a round of thanks and we'll be off. I'll come grab you."

Harry clapped his mates shoulder in thanks and looked over to you again. He wondered if you were coming to the bar with the rest of the group or if you were going home or headed somewhere else entirely. He wondered if you were single, if you had a sexual partner or maybe a long term boyfriend and also wondered if you knew that you had him by the throat. A vice grip that was only strengthening and he was terrified, intrigued and aroused all at once.

The power you held was astonishing and you haven't even met yet. He wanted to talk to you but he was tipsy and insanely nervous, which happened usually with girls but he was especially intimidated by you and your cherry lips. By your heels that clicked as you walked, every clack sound signified another nail in his coffin of devotion and fascination of you.

But he never got the chance. You were constantly swamped with guests and he was too polite to go and intrude and admittedly scared that you'd stare him up and down and send him on his way with his tail between his legs. Either that or he'd do all the work and blubber himself into a rant about your outfit and your demeanor. Or the champagne would kick in and he'd lean down and brush his lips against your cheek, tell you he'd thought about your hair wrapped around his fist while he-

"Haz! Let's go!"

His friends called a car around and he clambered into the backseat of the van once he struggled through the throng of paparazzi outside the gallery. It happened so quickly in his tipsy state that he didn't even realise who he was sat next to until he saw a flash of red in his peripheral vision and span his head so quickly it hurt his neck.

Sure enough, you were sat there, your lips that enticing red, hair tousled as you ran your fingers through it and you peered out at the scene outside. Once everyone was settled in the vehicle his mate twisted around in his seat and pointed between the two of you, introducing you to Harry and throwing a warning your way, "watch yourself with this one, sweetie. He's a great lover but he has half the world's population after him."

Your laugh rang out and Harry turned to watch your expression, your lips pulled over your teeth, the crinkles by your eyes, the way you leaned forward and rubbed his friends cheek, chastised the friend for his comment. He cleared his throat to rid his mind of the fact that he was envious of such a simple touch. He looked over to you and combed his brain for something cool or flirty to say to you but he was coming up blank and panicking.

He thought maybe he should try to disregard the lover comment and maybe shake your hand but his fingers were quivering and he ran his hands along his thighs to relax. While he was sat beside you with his heart in his throat and alcohol thrumming in his veins, you chatted with everyone in the van about the success of the night, sweetly oblivious to the man crumbling at the fact that you existed.