A/N: The smut chapters will be marked as // instead of || to give you guys a warning because I know some of you may be here for the soft content only, so be prepared to skip! Also, the picture of Cherry above will come up sometime in the chapter...
Am I aware that Harry has got a suspicious-looking locked door in his house? Yes. Have I ever gotten curious enough to ask him what's hidden behind the aforementioned door? Absolutely not.
I've never been the one to pry, but now that he's leading me up the dreaded pink stairs—his hand still clutching mine to make sure I don't run off—I am seriously regretting not asking him about it sooner. Especially when he starts typing in a digit code, which lets me know that whatever he's got in there is important enough to warrant an extra level of security.
As soon as Harry notices my pale face, he lets out a short chuckle. "Don't give me that look. I am not taking you to a bloody sex dungeon."
"Pity..." I quip to cover up my nerves that have been raging inside me since our confrontation back in Harry's kitchen. How am I supposed to stay calm after he had essentially confessed his attraction to me?
You don't find me getting intimidated by a man that often...but with Harry's intense eyes piercing into me, it's really hard to keep my cool.
"It could still be a uh, a sex, um, attic?" I add weakly.
"We both know you're the more likely one to have sex toys hidden around your house." I mean, he's not wrong. "C'mon."
With a playful smirk on his lips, he tugs me forward and into an empty white corridor. My nervousness continues to grow with each step we take towards the door at the end of the hallway. When Harry finally slides it open, I am surprised to see a library; and a very beautiful one, at that.
The walls are lined with long bookshelves filled to the brim with various novels and magazines. A small fireplace sits in the middle of the room, although I'm unsure why Harry would need one in Malibu, of all places. The entire space radiates cosiness, but above everything else, it is so reminiscent of Harry's quirky personality.
"You made me all anxious for this?" I huff, snatching my hand away from him in mock annoyance.
"It's like I always say; you're very easy to trick," he chuckles, whilst walking towards the centre of the room. There's a coffee table topped with several candles that he lights up, bathing the space in an orange glow. Only then do I realise that all the windows are suspiciously covered with drapes, blocking the sunlight and creating an intimate atmosphere.
On the outside, I keep up my nonchalant act. But oh, my insides... they are in shambles indeed.
Is he trying to seduce me?
Not that I would mind hooking up with Harry—he's insanely attractive and saying I've never considered it would be a massive lie—but it's the after that I'm afraid of. My ultimate worst fear is the other person catching feelings and wanting more than just a physical relationship. This is exactly what I've been going through with Emil.
Pushing this worrisome train of thought aside, I take a seat on one of the pillows thrown onto the ground. "Reading in the dark isn't very good for your eyes," I comment.
He laughs good-naturedly, picking up a thin book from the shelf. It's impossible to miss his movements—fidgety and agitated—as he makes his way back to me. "No, but this feels rather climatic, don't you agree?"
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I murmur, "Yeah, guess so."
What I really want to say is that I am not ready for us to potentially take our relationship to a whole new level. That the Emil situation has taught me a valuable lesson about sleeping with friends, which is as follows: don't do it.
Besides, I am far from girlfriend material, and the most he can expect from me is a good fuck. Somehow, I feel like it would clash with Harry's outlook on relationships. I mean, have you seen this guy? He exudes boyfriend energy. There is no doubt in my mind that Harry is a good man, one that deserves an equally put-together partner... not some girl who's still in the process of climbing out of a deep hole otherwise known as her "messy life".
As I contemplate all this, Harry takes a seat in front of me before presenting me with a book with a familiar font on the cover. Our knees brush against each other, sending a pleasurable tingle through my nervous system. Such an innocent touch shouldn't be affecting me so strongly, and yet it does—every time.
"I thought we could finally start this today," he suggests, "if you're done with five, that is?"
"I am," I confirm with a curt nod. "It was quite...something."
At that, he faces me with a furrowed brow. "You didn't enjoy it?"
"I just think it was widely unrealistic, H. The author barely knew the man and yet decided to marry him on a whim? After he had betrayed her in volume three, no less!" I shake my head in disbelief. "Feels to me like she intentionally dramatised the events to make the story more interesting than it actually was."
"We don't know whether that man and the lover from the previous volumes are one and the same," Harry reasons.
"But we do! The similarities in her writing, the way she describes him… H, it's gotta be the same person. He broke her heart and then came back like nothing had happened, acting as though he could be the one to mend her back together– I don't like it."
Harry chuckles curtly, regarding me with an amused half-grin. "You're not a big believer in second chances, are you?"
I let out a snort. "People never change. He hurt her once, and he'll keep doing it until there's nothing left for her to pick up."
"That was grim."
"But accurate," I snipe back.
"And yet, you're a living contradiction of what you just said. A girl who hit rock bottom, but still managed to get her shit together to become a better version of herself. We could get rid of some of that sass, I reckon, but–" he shrugs when I playfully stick my tongue out at him, "if there's anyone who's proved that people can change, it's you."
"Trying isn't the same as actually changing," I remind him.
"Here's where I have to disagree with you. It's the effort that counts, especially when said effort is paying off."
The brooding silence is all he gets in response.
Vaguely aware of my stinging eyes and the pressure of the tears threatening to spill, I weakly gesture to the book still in his hands. "So, are we reading this or not?"
That effectively forces Harry to peel his gaze away from my lips. "Right," he coughs slightly. "I have my own copy, so this one is just for you."
"Thanks," I reach out to take it from him only to have it abruptly snatched away from me. A bit thrown off, I pull my hand back. "What are you doing?"
"I wrote a dedication for you in there," his eyes lock on mine intensely as he speaks.
"Okay," I smile at his dorkiness, "show me."
My words seem to have an opposite effect than desired, causing him to once again pull the book away from my grasp.
"Harry…" I tease him through my whine, "You're the one who wanted me to have it. You can't tease me like that only to end up hiding it from me."
His voice is soft and low as he nods his head in confirmation. "Yeah."
"Then why aren't you giving it to me?" I laugh at his antics.
"I– okay, fine," he hesitates before shoving the object at me, a bit too aggressively for my taste. If it weren't for the fact that his cheeks are dusted pink—a clear sign of embarrassment—I would have had his head. This time I let it slide, only because he so clearly seems to be struggling for whatever reason.
As I open the book on the title page, I finally realise where his nervousness stems from.
"How long have you known?" is the first thing I manage to utter through my stammering heart. "About…"
"Sunflowers being your favourite?" he supplies with a sheepish smile. "S'been a while. To be fair, your neighbour answered all my questions during our first meeting."
I let out an incredulous scoff. Of course Georgette ran her mouth at the very first opportunity. Although I suppose I can't blame her for not being able to withstand Harry's irresistible charm.
"But… Why haven't you said anything? You enjoy messing with me that much, huh?" I ask, only half-serious in my accusation.
"Dunno," he mumbles, his eyes set downwards on the fingers picking at the hem of the yellow shorts, "I guess I didn't want it to end."
"You mean..." I trail off before hesitantly asking, "Our habit?"
He nods, not elaborating any further.
"Why?" I press.
Bashfully running a hand down his pinkish face, he again shrugs his shoulders. "You've always been so hard to crack, y'know? From the very start, I had such a hard time making you laugh. I'd make a bloody idiot of myself just to get the tiniest snort in return."
My body goes rigid as he reaches out to touch the flower in my hair—the one he had gifted me this morning and then put in my hair earlier at the beach.
"But this," he cocks his chin at the top of my head, "always makes you smile."
He finally leans back after that, putting some distance between our bodies and affording me room to breathe. Although it's getting increasingly hard to do that with my throat feeling tight, as though someone is trying to squeeze the last remaining ounce of life out of me.
"I just didn't want it to end," he finishes his confession with a heavy sigh. Something about the way he says it makes a sob bubble in the back of my throat.
It's like he expects me to leave him behind… all because of some damn flowers.
"Harry, you, yo–" I choke out through my whimpers. "You're such a fucking moron."
Crawling forward and into his chest, I then engulf him in a hug so tight that he nearly falls back onto the hardwood floor.
"Wait, are you... crying?" His hands nervously hover over my back, eventually resting on top of my head. "This is not how I envisioned you falling into my arms today. I was tryin' to be all slick–"
"Shut up," I hiccup, trying to pull back only to end up even more caged in by his muscular arms.
Paying no mind to my hostility, he adds, "Thought there would be a different kind of emotion involved–"
"You're so annoying," I cut him off, voice low and wobbly. "How are you real? Are you even capable of saying something wrong?"
His hands soothingly rub the top of my head as he mutters, "Oh, I mess up a lot. Trust me."
"Not with me." The words are begging to flood out as I begin my rant, "You barge into my life like some– some clingy ray of sunshine and make me feel all this shit. Just when I was growing used to being on my own, too! Now you're here, making me want to be better, even though I used to be a hundred percent content being my fucked-up self!"
"So it's wrong that you want to be better?" he asks gently.
"It is because I can never be like you!" My voice is rising now, growing slightly hysterical. "I'll always be a joke, Harry. The one girl who everyone makes fun of. A junkie on the brink of a relapse."
Shaking his head, he pulls back just enough to look at me seriously. "That's not who you are to me. Maybe my opinion is irrelevant because I'm just one man, but I'll keep reminding you how wonderful you are until hopefully, one day, it will stick."
That's all it takes to have me flinging myself back at him, my sobs getting muffled in the crook of his neck. Sighing deeply, he rubs the palms of his hands soothingly up and down my back in a comforting gesture.
"Listen to me carefully now, okay? You've had the wrong kind of people around you, Cherry. It's hard to remain sane in our world when you're all alone," he explains calmly. "But you've got me now, and Asa—when you're not trying to push him away, that is. And he put up with you all those years, so surely you can't be that bad..."
Wriggling out of his hold, I regard him with blurry eyes. "You haven't witnessed the full extent of my messy personality yet."
"I think I've seen and heard enough to have a pretty good idea of who you are," he grins cheekily, catching both of my hands to drag me up to my feet. "Ready to see the rest?"
"Oh, so t-there is more after all?" I fumble, sniffing lightly and using the pads of my fingers to get rid of the smeared mascara under my eyes.
"I wouldn't put an extra alarm just to protect a library…" The subtle implication in his tone is not lost on me, but the crinkle in his eyes tells me he's once again drawing pleasure from messing with me.
Quickly catching on to his banter, I smile flirtatiously. "Is this the part when you take me to that sex attic?"
He throws his head back in a laugh, my traitorous eyes falling to his perfectly sharp jaw and once again making me curse myself for succumbing so easily to his charm. Especially when he winks at me, sending my entire body tingling with just this one little motion. "Hate to disappoint, but no. There is, however, a gallery… and I have a feeling you'll like it there."
Not wasting a second, he pulls me back into the white corridor. Before we can go through a different door this time, he covers my eyes with his right hand while holding my waist with the other. A shocked gasp flies through my lips before I hear him murmur, "Don't look yet, pretty girl."
"What, do you have like a stolen Da Vinci painting there or something?" My voice is playful as we walk, our movements awkward and uncoordinated. We waddle a few steps forward until he stops abruptly, still pressed up against my back.
"There's a couple of expensive pieces here, yeah, but… I think we'll both agree that the star of the show is something different."
I have no time to contemplate what this means before he finally takes his hand off, revealing a room, bare except for the various paintings and photographs covering the walls. Quickly, I realise it's a sort of memorial of Harry's life: back from when he was very young up to as recent as Tom Hull's party we had gone to together. The largest photograph is of him and two women, displayed proudly in the center of the wall near a shot of him with his band.
There's so many faces, some more easily recognisable than others, that I have trouble focusing on one place at a time.
"People always come and go from my life," Harry's voice breaks through the silence, "so I keep these to remind myself of everything I've experienced so far."
"I get you." This is something I can easily relate to. My lifestyle has earned me many benefits such as wealth and status, but lasting relationships isn't one of them.
"I really hope you can be more than that," Harry adds seriously. "More than just another face on this wall. I'm really tired of everyone dipping on me… Although, to their defence, it's usually my fault they leave."
Just hearing him say the words makes my stomach turn in unease. The possibility of him being permanently gone from my life seems so terrifying… I can't even begin to fathom not having him as my friend, even though we've literally known each other for a couple of months.
"Leave and go where?" I ask playfully, turning to face him. "As long as you're here in Malibu, you're stuck with–" is as much as I manage to say before my eyes fall upon the sight behind his head.
It's me.
Or to be slightly more specific, it's my face in various circumstances, covering the entirety of the wall. There are multiple pictures from our second hang-out in my backyard; most of which were taken whilst I was unaware. Another shot is of me asleep on my couch after our first night of Game of Thrones binge, my face turned to the side with my red hair spilling all over a pillow. There are several others that he had taken during our day out in the canyons—even one of me smiling whilst petting the damn horse.
Sticking out like a sore thumb though, in the very centre of this little shrine dedicated to me, is a close-up of my face. I remember that moment very well—we were laying on a blanket, right after our horse ride. Harry had snatched my fruit box from my hands, threatening to eat all of my strawberries just to make me look at the camera. There's a slight smile on my face, my freckles more prominent due to the sun reflecting in my hair.
Anything I could say, any response at all, has vacated my mind and I am left staring at him with a deer in the headlights look on my face, the same face Harry apparently likes enough to have it plastered all over his wall.
Before I have a chance to utter a single word, I feel his presence behind me as he leans down to run his nose through my hair.
"There's no other face I'd rather have up there than yours," he murmurs, voice so low I barely catch his words.
Swallowing hard, I shift but his hands land on my waist to keep me locked in place. "You could do better than… than me– I mean, my face," I blurt out.
He ignores my outburst, instead lowering his head even more to press his lips against my shoulder. He pecks my skin once, twice, before moving further up towards my neck and using his hand to move my hair to my opposite shoulder.
My mind goes completely blank as I stare at the picture in front of me—Harry with some girl hidden behind a camera. It's all I can focus on when his fingers grasp my jaw, holding me steady as he continues to trail open-mouthed kisses up to my ear. Stubbornly, I keep my head tilted to the side, knowing that I can't face him. As soon as I did, his mouth would latch on to mine and it would be game over, there would be nothing to stop us from fucking right here on the cold floor of his gallery.
Trying to ignore the growing heat between my legs, I mumble, "We really, uh, shouldn't be doing this."
"Mhm, okay," he hums, not even pretending to stop his exploration of my neck.
My head falls back when his teeth sink lightly into my earlobe. "Or at least we should talk about it first…" I add weakly.
"Fuck, I know," he rests his forehead against the back of my neck, sounding frustrated as he continues, "but I can't help it. Not when you go around talkin' about my dick… You thought I don't speak French, hm? Damn seductress."
I huff a chuckle, reaching behind me to grasp a fistful of his hair. "Oh, please. You didn't understand a single word I said. Keep guessing, asshole."
"Mhm, maybe, but I do remember catching the word 'cock' in there…" he retorts playfully. "Besides, you just confirmed my suspicions."
Next thing I know he's pushing me forward until my upper body is pressed up against the wall, his mouth again firmly attached to the skin of my neck while his large hands explore my stomach, thighs, waist—anywhere they could reach. Wiggling slightly in his grasp, I attempt to regain some form of control… Now that's a first. Most of the time being the dominating person during sex comes naturally to me, but with Harry it looks like I will be forced to partake in some hot form of power struggle.
Can't say I'm complaining.
"I've been dreaming of the moment I finally manage to shut that sassy mouth of yours," he mutters hotly into my ear, causing both a flare of arousal and annoyance in my gut.
"Dream on, you–" he cuts my rant off with a rough squeeze of my tits, fully enveloping them with his large hands and causing my shirt to move a couple of inches up whilst exposing my bikini bottoms. My lips part in a wordless moan which soon becomes a loud whine when he thrusts his hips into my ass.
"M'sorry, didn't quite catch that. Can you please say that again?" he says slowly, mockingly.
"Mhm, I was just saying that I was wrong—you do have a tiny cock after all, cherié," I lie through my teeth just to spite him, because what's pressing against my bum right now is anything but small.
"Is it?" His tone is coy as he twists my arm back to hold my hand against himself. Teasingly slow, he runs my fingers from the base of his dick all the way to where the tip is peaking out from his yellow swim trunks. "You looked so good on the beach today. That fuckin' bikini just about killed me back there. See how hard you made my tiny dick?"
"Aw, are you about to burst already?" I manage breathlessly, swiping my thumb over the pre-cum leaking out. "I barely touched you. Shame... I guess your rep is overrated."
He grunts into my ear, snatching my hand aggressively to press it against the wall next to my head. "And whose fault is that? Do you know how long I've wanted you? Even before I first laid my eyes on you, I fantasized about the girl from behind the fence screaming my name."
"Then do it, H," I beg, tilting my head up to look at him. Too horny to think straight anymore, I am vaguely aware that we're about to make some very rash and possibly disastrous decisions; but I am way past the point of caring. "You're not the only one who's wanted this for a long time."
From the corner of my eye I see his jaw clenching, his pupils blown out wide as his hand slides up from my chest all the way to my neck, squeezing gently. "You sure? Do you want me, pretty?" At my quick nod, his mouth widens in a teasing grin, "Look at you, all flushed and begging for me to have you," he tightens the hold on my neck just a bit, "and here I thought you were going to be harder to tame."
"Shut up," I hiss, my heart hammering in my chest to the point of becoming a dull ringing sound in my ears. Who would have thought that there's a total freak hiding under the cute dorky guy facade? Now that is a plot twist. "Are you going to touch me now, H? 'Cause I'm beginning to think you're all talk and no action."
"Oh you have no idea, Cherry…" He tries to sound threatening, but we both end up chuckling when his game face breaks for a split moment, and his mouth stretches into a large, dimpled grin.
"Mhm, you're such a hunk," I tease, giggling lightly. "How about you put these fingers to good use now?"
"Okay, listen," he says huskily. "You need to stop pissing me off." His voice is back to being a low snarl in my ear, but despite his show of dominance, he still does as asked and moves his hand down to slip between my legs. Instead of giving me some form of relief though, he keeps his fingers idle against my clit.
"H…" I whine, bucking my hips against his hand. "Do something, or I swear to god–"
"You'll what? I don't think you're in a position to be making any demands," he says with mock innocence. I can feel him smirking against my skin as he murmurs, "I can't believe the mess you've made." To demonstrate, he pulls his hand out briefly to show me just how drenched it is. "Does it turn you on when I hold you down? I had a feeling you're a very filthy girl. Not that you made it a secret, with the ceiling mirrors and all…"
It takes all of my willpower not to beg him for a release right here and now. I've got to give it to him—no other man or woman has managed to reduce me to such a stuttering mess before.
When I remain stubbornly quiet, he begins to slowly circle my clit whilst murmuring, "S'okay, pretty girl. You can tell me, I don't judge… You know I adore you."
"Yes," I respond through a whine.
"Yes what?" Harry asks aggressively, suddenly thrusting two long fingers into me, not giving me a second to adjust before starting a fast, rough pace.
"Yes," I repeat, trying hard to suppress the moans threatening to spill from my mouth. "I love it when you control me. I want you to show me where my place is."
I've never allowed anyone to boss me around like this before, but now that Harry has familiarized me with the feeling, I don't think I'll be letting go of that high anytime soon.
"I bloody love seeing you like this," he admits in a low murmur. "At my mercy for once. So bloody desperate for me, aren't you? You'd even let me fuck you raw against this wall, yeah?"
"Please…" My panting grows increasingly louder as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of me at a maddening pace. With my cheek pressed against the cold wall, I feel the world begin to spin around me, the combination of his touch and dirty words in my ear driving me insane.
"You know what? I think I've changed my mind, m'gonna call you my good girl now… Look how sweet you are 'bout following directions." My eyes flutter shut as I feel myself clench around him; spurring him on to shake his fingers side to side rapidly.
"Fucking hell, Harry!" I gasp at the mix of intense pleasure and slight twinge of pain from his rough motions.
"Now that you know how amazing I can make you feel, be a real good girl and give me a kiss," he requests, resting his forehead against my cheek. Not even bothering to deny him anymore, I twist my head to the side with a full intention of following through on his demand only to be stopped by a rather loud sound of a door slamming. Much too close for my liking.
We both freeze, Harry's fingers stilling deep inside me for a moment before they resume their steady assault on me.
"Harry, stop," I whisper shakily. "Someone is up here."
"I guess I could stop, but…" a wicked grin overtakes his face, "it would be way more fun if you just stayed quiet and let me get you off real fast."
Something about the tone of his voice has my body thrumming with an even stronger desire than before, heightened by the fear of Mitch or Sarah walking in on us. I'd be lying if I said that the thought of them catching us in the act isn't even slightly exciting...
Letting my cheek fall against the cold wall again, I give Harry a slight nod of agreement.
"Of course you love the idea of getting caught," he muses, staring at me with a sort of awed look on his face. "You're one very dirty girl, Cherry. 'M fucking obsessed with you."
All of a sudden, his teeth sink into my neck causing a tiny yelp to escape my lips, but the sound soon gets swallowed by his large, calloused hand covering my mouth.
"I said: be quiet," he hisses against my temple, a small choked sigh leaving my lips in response.
I barely have the time to adjust to this new feeling before we hear footsteps, much clearer now and coming from the direction of the stairway leading to the first floor.
"Harry?"
Sarah's voice surely makes for a great sobering tactic, but when I try to shove H back in my panic, he only presses me against the wall that much harder.
"Now is the time to do as I say and finish all over my fingers," he urges quietly, nipping on my earlobe. "Don't even try to fake it. I will know."
My hips buck mindlessly against him, a couple of stray tears falling from my eyes—both due to the fear of humiliation and the intense pleasure.
"Yeah, that's good. You think you could handle my cock just as well? Would you let me fuck you hard like this?" The words fall out in a hushed frenzy. his fingers are curling inside me and causing a whole new wave of euphoria inside me. "So damn tight, too. Better than anything I've imagined."
Vaguely registering the sound of footsteps drawing closer, I yank on his hair harshly in a warning. Before I know it, he's spinning me around, my back crashes against the wall and causes the closest picture to clatter noisily to the ground. With my mouth now free of his hand, a moan falls from my lips when I feel myself on the brink of exploding. It takes one look at Harry's eyes staring intensely at my face to bring me over the edge, my back arching and entire body trembling from the intensity of my release.
"Oh god, yes, yes," I mumble feverishly, the feeling washing through me more intense than any drug-induced high I've ever experienced in my life.
I couldn't even begin to imagine what it could feel like to actually have him inside me, stretching me out whilst whispering filthy nothings into my ear.
Finally peeking my eyes open, I'm met with the sight of Harry, complete with flushed cheeks and a lazy grin on his face. For a moment I am paralysed, suddenly having an intense urge to kiss him silly… That is until we hear the screech of the door handle moving down.
Just like that the spell is broken; he jumps as far away from me as humanly possible, leaving me wobbly and flushed against the damn wall he's just nearly fucked me against. I barely have the time to smooth my hair down with a shaky hand before Sarah enters the room, regarding us both with a pair of narrowed eyes.
"I heard a noise," she says, or rather observes, glancing at the shattered picture frame on the floor.
Looking at Harry for support, I find him occupied with a very unsuccessful effort to cover up his boner. Thankfully, Sarah's attention is solely on me and the mess we had made on the otherwise spotless floor.
"I'm gonna go downstairs and grab something to clean this up with," she offers, seemingly oblivious to our illicit affairs. As soon as she leaves, Harry crouches down to pick up the photograph from the floor—the same one I had been staring at earlier. With his head hung low, it's impossible to read the expression on his face.
After a few moments our lingering silence begins to grow unbearable. I clear my throat and begin to slowly inch towards the door.
"I'm gonna go see if she needs any help," I mumble out my pitiful excuse, which seems to shake Harry out of whatever trance he had been in.
"Wait–" he starts. His entire face twists in a look of confusion and unease, which admittedly makes me feel more relaxed, knowing that I am not facing the awkwardness on my own.
"It's okay. I'll just– I'll be back," I draw my lower lip into my mouth, before twisting on my feet and slipping out of the room.
__________
"—and that's the story of how Mitch and I met," Sarah finishes, refilling my wine glass for the fifth time that evening, "but I think that's enough confession time for the day."
"Just remember that when you have your first kid… Technically, I'm the one who made it," Harry grins proudly whilst tuning his guitar.
After our hot tryst in his private gallery, Harry convinced Mitch to have a jamming session, leaving Sarah and I free to roam the kitchen. Which is exactly how we ended up getting buzzed on an expensive bottle of wine and watching the boys play—or rather attempt to, in Harry's case.
Let's just say his concentration has been lacking, and I have a strong inkling that I might be the reason for it.
"I don't know how to tell you this, but when it comes to baby-making, there is much more inserting involved. Or so I've been told…" I say, biting my lip whilst discreetly checking out the tattoos on his arms.
It's safe to say that my attraction to Harry has become even more intense now. Everything he does, all his words, and every single inch of his body seems so much hotter…especially the long ringed fingers that he was shoving into me just a few hours earlier.
Yes, his fingers definitely hold a special place in my heart now.
My internal musings are cut short when Sarah bursts out laughing, reaching over to slap Harry's knee. "Did you hear that, H? Someone needs to have the talk with you."
The smug bastard scrunches up his nose, reaching up to cover the beginnings of a smirk with his hand. "You're right, I'm so inexperienced...gonna need some guidance. Any volunteers?"
"Maybe you'll find some in Paris," Mitch butts in before taking a long drag of his spliff.
"You're going to France?" I try to remember him mentioning it, but I have no recollection of us ever talking about it. Still, it's not like Harry is obligated to share every single detail of his life with me.
"Yeah, just a couple of days. S'work thing," he mumbles, looking down for a moment before throwing his arms out gleefully. "Back to the volunteer thing–"
I scoff, rolling my eyes as I lift the wine glass to my lips. As I do it, I glimpse the hour on my wrist watch which makes me jump to my feet with a gasp. "Shit, I just realised I need to go."
"You okay?" Harry asks with a frown, setting his guitar aside.
"Yeah, I just remembered I'm meeting my father early tomorrow morning." Seeing Sarah and Mitch's confused expression, I quickly explain, "We're having a damn PR outing. The man who released my pictures a few weeks back is set to make a statement, explaining how it was all against my will, yadda yadda yadda. Anyways… Dad wants our happy faces plastered all over the tabloids to fit the story." I force my lips into a wide, fake smile, pointing a finger right at my mouth for emphasis. "Yay me."
"That sucks," Mitch says in his usual curt and bored fashion. Although it might be also because he's currently more stoned than I've ever seen him.
"Yeah," is all I say in response, gathering my beach bag and throwing it over my shoulder.
"Hold up, I'll call you an Uber," Harry says, walking up to me. "I'd drive you but I had a couple of beers–"
"It's fine, I'll take a walk down the beach," I stop him. "I could use some time to sober up anyway."
"Alone?" Sarah chimes in worriedly.
Just when I'm about to explain how I've in fact crossed the distance from Harry's fence to my house countless times—in the dead of the night too—Harry grabs my hand and begins to drag me outside. "I'll walk her home. You guys can entertain yourself while I'm gone, but no baby-making in my house!"
His voice clearly leaves no room for discussion, so we all exchange our goodbyes and promise to catch up next week.
Next thing I know, Harry and I are walking down the path to the beach… Once again all alone. The silence hangs heavily in the air, which has never been an issue for us, but this time, it doesn't feel like a comfortable kind of quiet.
It's like we're both aware how badly we messed up, but we don't know how to convey it without possibly hurting the other person.
After a couple of minutes filled with stealing secret glances, Harry is the first one to crack. "Well, damn," he exclaims out of the blue.
I turn to face him only to see him already looking at me, a sort of a sheepish smile on his face. A single glance at him is enough to make my entire face heat up—how can I possibly face him now without remembering the sinfully dirty words he had whispered to me earlier?
"Yeah. I know," I peel my eyes away from him with a chuckle.
"The tension," he mutters, making a show of slicing his hand through the air karate-style. "It's killin' me."
"You tell me," I agree, glad that he had taken the liberty of being the first one to speak. I seriously doubt I would have had the guts to do it.
"So…" he coughs lightly as I grit my teeth, silently bracing myself for whatever's to come. As far as I know, it could be anything ranging from a love confession to denial that anything had happened at all. But, none of my predictions are anywhere near the simple, "I'm sorry" that falls from his mouth.
"Wait, are you…" I scrunch my forehead in confusion, "apologising for fingering me?"
"Technically," he admits with a guilty grin.
"Well, no need for that because your performance was quite… decent," I grace him with a back-handed compliment.
"Decent?" he repeats with feigned hurt, stopping in his tracks while I continue to walk forward without looking back. "Excuse me, but that was exceptional."
I roll my eyes, giggling when he catches up to me and stops right in my path.
"Also," he continues with a smug smirk. Without taking his eyes off me, he steps forward so that our chests are dangerously close together. "I think you begging for me proves just how good I made you feel."
Peeking at him from under my lashes, I teasingly brush my fingers against the collar of his shirt. "All the more reason not to apologise, don't you think?"
Our eyes lock for a moment, a beat passing before he blinks repeatedly, almost as if to compose himself.
"It's not why I apologised," he speaks eventually. "I just think you were right to warn me that we shouldn't be doing this."
"Oh?" Pulling back my hand, I wait for him to give me some clarification.
Quietly, I study his face as he ponders his answer. Once again I note how often he seems to engage in some sort of inner battle with himself. This seems to be a regular pattern in his behaviour, and it's comforting to know that I'm not the only one on the fence about this relationship, pun intended.
"I know we haven't known each other that long, but you've become very important to me. I don't want to lose this. Lose you," he then uses his index finger to motion between us, "This… It could complicate things a whole damn lot. Even if it's just sex."
If he expects any form of objection from me, he's in for a big surprise.
"This is a disaster in the making," I agree wholeheartedly.
"The timing–" he starts.
"–will never be right," I finish for him. This time, I am absolutely certain that I spot a hint of surprise on his face. Was he hoping that I'd disagree with him? "Remember Emil? This is what happens to men who are dumb enough to fall for me. Best to stay away, H."
He says nothing to that, instead grabbing my hands to rub small circles on my knuckles. "Guess I should have said it all after you returned the favour," he says cheekily in an attempt to diffuse the tension.
"I'm sure you can handle yourself just fine." Immediately, I cringe at my coy tone. We've literally just discussed that this isn't a good idea, and I'm already flirting with him? Talk about the shortest resolution in history.
As if reading my thoughts, Harry smirks, "This is gonna be very hard. Especially now that I know exactly what I'll be missing."
"Mhm, you might wanna refrain from calling me 'pretty', too," I add teasingly.
"But you are a pretty girl," he objects with a playful groan. "Literally."
"And," I push against his chest gently, "the flirting's gotta stop."
His grin grows even wider. "No promises, but I will try… Only if you swear to stop haunting my daydreams."
"Harry! You just… Ugh," I roll my eyes with a smile. "If we keep this up, we are not going to last longer than an hour without jumping each other's bones."
He looks around himself with wide eyes, before pointing a finger at his chest innocently. "What do you mean? I've been behaving myself!"
"This is what you call behaving yourself? I don't want to know what misbehaving is like in your book."
"Oh, but you already know." As soon as he says the words, we both groan, frustrated with our inability to stop messing with each other.
This is definitely not going to end up well.
___________
Whew... So that happened. Any thoughts, complaints about the chapter? Let me know what you think, I love reading your feedback!
Where do you think they'll go from there now that Harry is going on his work trip?
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