Quick Note: Apparently, I need to include this at the beginning of this chapter because people have trouble thinking through the important things - but something that Greta reveals in this chapter IS NOT the sole reason for her decision to run away.
Unfortunately, with reflection on how I've written this story, I have realized that the way things are worded, puts a little too much emphasis on this one aspect. So, PLEASE remember it is a culmination of things. Also, before you comment "that's it?" really take a moment and think about the circumstances, and the pressure put behind it, and the age.
Plus, if you comment "that's it?" it's almost guaranteed that I will delete it.
Alright, thanks! Enjoy
...
The fan in our hotel room is broken. Harry's tried to assure me that he's "mechanically inclined" but I've concluded that either A. he's a liar or B. he's purposely made sure the air conditioning doesn't work like it's supposed to.
Normally I wouldn't find this to be that big of an issue because we only spend a couple hours in a room before we move onto the next one, only every once in a while staying in one more than a day. But tonight is particularly hot even with summer slowly dwindling away. Not much is improving the situation either because even after a very cold shower I'm back to sweating within a matter of minutes.
We've tried to call the front desk but they're the definition of unhelpful. The only thing to help we've gotten form them is hearing that they are booked for the night so they can't move us to another room and the mechanic won't be here until the morning. Harry's done his best to bang on the machine without much success, and of course this is one of the few places we've stayed in that doesn't have a pool.
We got in kind of late after eating dinner and picked the first place that looked clean, hoping to call it an early night. It was clear though as soon as we walked into our sauna of a room that sleep wouldn't be happening in the near future.
After a few minutes of discussion, trying to decide if we should stay in this hell of a room or go somewhere else for the night we decided to stay put.
Two cold showers later and we're in the room with the majority of the lights off and TV on, watching The Tonight Show in our underwear. Well, technically Harry's the only one fully in his underwear because I am wearing a shirt too. But it was obvious that a minimal amount of clothing would be the only way to survive.
Harry's on the bed above me, his legs on either side of my shoulders and I'm on the ground with my legs crossed and the carpet itching at my skin. His hands are in my hair, pulling wet strands back as he twists them together, slowly containing my mess of wet curls into two braided pig tails.
"Why do I find Jimmy Fallon in a suit so attractive?" I ask, leaning my head onto Harry's leg. He laughs quietly and then nudges my head back up, pulling tightly at my hair as he continues to braid.
"Don't know," he breathes out, his fingers moving slowly. "Isn't that a thing?"
"Actually I don't think it's the suit," I change my mind. "He pulls it off very well, but I think it's more the fact that he's just super talented. And the face he makes when he talks about his kids... and how they have old lady names."
"Please go on," Harry says sarcastically above me, but I can tell he doesn't really mind. "I love hearing my girlfriend has a crush on another man, especially when he's twice her age with a family."
"Hey," I lean my head back to see Harry smiling at me, showing that this is yet another one of his games. "I did not say I have a crush on him, just innocent admiration... he's not exactly my type."
Harry rolls his eyes dramatically, moving his hands to the side of my head to straighten it so I'm looking at the screen again. He's trying to act annoyed with me for making it harder for him to braid my hair but I only half believe him with the soft laughter coming from his mouth. It's quiet between us for a few seconds and I try refocusing my attention on the current interview on the screen but then I hear Harry's voice again.
"What is your type then, hmm?"
"You," I answer simply, still staring at the screen while Harry's fingers are in my hair.
I've never given much thought to my "type" but Harry falls into every possible aspect that might be there. If I were to make a list of the things I find attractive and would want in a potential partner I'm sure Harry would make the majority of them. I don't have a type per se. I just like Harry... a lot.
This time he's the one to lean my head back rather than getting annoyed with me for messing up his braiding technique. I feel him tug gently at the one complete braid and my neck moves back until I'm staring up at him. He's looking back at me with his hair falling in front of his face and a wide smirk.
"Yeah?" he asks quietly, still smirking.
"Yeah," I smile up at him, trying not to think too much about close my head is to his crotch.
He leans down quickly and presses a kiss to my forehead. Then releases the pull on my hair, allowing me to sit up straight again.
"Yeah," I repeat, felling this strange confidence as I talk. "You already accomplished number one on my list."
"Which is?" he asks quickly, his fingers returning to the second braid that's half finished.
"Hair braiding skills," I try to say it as seriously as I possibly can, fighting back any laughter as I playfully tease him.
"You're an annoying one, aren't you?" Harry laughs above me. "Don't even pretend you're not enjoying this right now."
With my head still facing forward, I smile but stay silent. Harry's right, I am enjoying this even if it is a little random. I like it when he plays with my hair.
"Why do you know how to braid hair?" I finally ask even though it's been a question running though my head since we got into this position.
From what I know it isn't a typical thing for a guy to have much experience in, considering it isn't a common hair style for them. Harry has long enough hair for something like that to be accomplished but this isn't as likely for a large percentage of other men.
"Remember how I said I moved out of my parent's house when I was sixteen?" he asks and I nod my head. "Well when I first moved out I didn't have anywhere to really go and I stayed with my uncle and aunt for a few months. My cousin Natalie who was six at the time always asked me to do her hair for school.
"She was very stubborn about it, never wanted her mom do it and insisted that I was the one who had the privilege of styling it. And she always wanted braids, not any of my other attempts of six-year old hairstyles... so I learned how to braid. Wasn't very good in the beginning, but she was happy no matter how awful it looked. Eventually I got it down."
He takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment and I focus on the way his hands move through my hair. It's clear that he knows what he's doing at this point, still braiding slowly but accurately.
"So I learned to braid hair because my six-year old cousin had me wrapped around her finger," he adds, laughing as he speaks.
I smile thinking about Harry teaching himself to braid because a little girl wanted him to do her hair. It seems so like Harry to do such a thing, learning something silly to make a child happy. And it's impossible not to smile as I think about it.
I can't imagine many sixteen-year old boys learning to braid hair to fulfil their young cousin's request... but that's exactly what Harry did.
"I'm convinced that part of the reason my aunt and uncle were so upset to see me move into my own place was because I would no longer there to help Natalie get ready in the morning... she was always liked it best when I did her hair."
"That's sweet," I say quietly. "You're sweet."
"Thanks," he laughs again, finishing the last part of the braid. "Sometimes I kind of miss it, living with them. Feels nice to be wanted or appreciated in a way."
I'm quiet for a moment as I think about this feeling of being appreciated and how it relates to Harry. His hands move to my shoulders, holding on gently and I hear him breathe out, sighing loudly.
As I stretch my legs from their crossed position thoughts of his family pop into my head. While I certainly don't know every detail of it, it's easy to speculate that he felt unimportant and unappreciated having to live in this shadow of his brother. It's difficult for to me imagine how someone wouldn't be able to see how wonderful he is, but it's also comforting to know that he at least had a few people in his life that loved him.
I turn around so I'm facing him, now on my knees and resting the side of my head in my hand as my elbow presses into his leg. I want him to know that this is how I feel about him, that I appreciate him, that I want him... and that just like Natalie, I like it when he braids my hair.
"Well I appreciate you," I say it simply, wanting to express it as clear as possible so he doesn't have to question it in the slightest. "You know that, right?"
His hand moves to my cheek, rubbing his thumb over my skin softly. "Yes, of course," he whispers. "I didn't mean to say that like I don't feel that now... I know you do. And I feel the exact same way about you."
"Good," I smile at him again, watching his face as the light from the TV changes colors. "Now, your turn," I laugh, standing up from my place on the floor.
Harry and I switch positions, him sliding down to the carpet and me taking over his place on top of the bed. I cross my legs again, my knees resting on top of his shoulders and he leans his head back for a moment, grinning at me.
I put my hands on either side of his head and move it so he's facing forward, his eyes focused on the screen. Then I comb my fingers through his slightly damp hair, trying to rid of some of the knots. Harry makes a funny squealing sound when I reach one particularly tough one, having to pull at his hair a little harder.
"You're so aggressive," he whines, moving his hand to back of his head and rubbing gently.
"Sorry, sorry," I apologize quickly, laughing as I do. "Not my intention... the finger combing can only accomplish so much though," I explain as I finally get through the tangled knot, causing Harry to whine a little again.
"It's okay," he shrugs, looking forward to the screen. "Don't mind too much when it's you pulling on my hair... kind of turns me on."
"Harry," I hit his shoulder, my hand slapping against his skin. "Cool it, lover boy."
"Sorry," he laughs as he moves his hand to rub the shoulder I just hit. It wasn't that hard of it, he's just being dramatic. "So sorry, baby. Can't help but like what I like, and that happens to be you."
I choose to leave it at that, smiling widely at his words rather of hitting him across the shoulder anymore. I pull back on his hair, much like he did to me earlier so his face is looking up at mine. He doesn't fight it, leaning his head back, smiling up at me as he blinks slowly.
It's funny to me if I think about this too much, how I managed to become one of those people who are totally content with just having one other person in their life. Of course I need more than just Harry. He does a pretty good job but there are certain things he can't do that Laurel or my mom can... or even the few good things of Pat.
That's how it should be though. You shouldn't have to separate the people you grew up loving with those came around a little later. Yes, my family and friends are states away but I finally feel like I'm on good terms with them. And because of that being almost selfishly absorbed in Harry doesn't seem nearly as bad.
"You're beautiful," Harry whispers, still looking up at me. "So beautiful."
"Thank you," I say quietly back to him, rubbing the side of his cheek. I lean over to kiss him, which results in a funny half upside down tongue tangled one, but it's sweet even then and doesn't last very long. "Now you're going to be the beautiful one," I straighten his head again, combing my fingers through his hair once more. "With your beautifully braided hair."
That was the deal. Somehow between wet hair, giggling along to playful conversations and Harry's hands that never left me for too long we came to an agreement to a version of I'll do it if you do it. Part of it started because I didn't believe Harry when he said he could braid hair and part of it was because I wanted to braid his.
"I have high expectations," he says seriously, moving so his back is straighter as he sits on the ground. "This better be some damn good braiding, Greta."
I roll my eyes as I split his hair into sections, planning out a way to reach Harry's high expectations. He hums along with the TV when a song and he laughs at a joke as we watch the show, but for the most part we stay quiet as I'm busy with his hair.
My fingers move quickly, sometimes too quickly causing me to backtrack. I try not to pull too tightly as I braid, but I'd be lying if I didn't pull on his hair a little more than needed at times after realizing his reaction from it. He doesn't give much away when I do this, still facing forward and focusing on the screen. But if I listen closely enough I can hear him breathe in deeper than normal for a second.
Braiding Harry's hair reminds me of moments that feel like a lifetime away. Just like Harry used to braid his cousin's hair, I would sometimes do the same for Blair. It wasn't a long phase because Blair was always keen on becoming independent with everything as soon as possible, but it reminds me when things were simpler and there wasn't this huge uncertainty in my life.
It isn't that things aren't simple right now, in some ways it's never been better. But I can't force away everything that has led up to this feeling that I very much like. It isn't one of those things I can just push away and pretend didn't happen like I was originally hoping when I first decided to run away.
I don't feel this bitterness to it like I did in the beginning. I know there are many more conversations that need to happen and I'm nowhere near to having it be resolved as long as I continue to get further and further away from home. But it does feel attainable.
"Do you think you'll ever get back to how you felt with Jackson like when you were a kid?"
Harry doesn't respond for a good two minutes, silently staring forward as I continue to braid his hair. With his lack of response I almost want to repeat the question but I know the reason he isn't answering isn't because he didn't hear.
"No," he shakes his head slowly. "Never exactly like it was at least. Too much has happened for it to go back to that. Even though I miss it sometimes, I'm not surprised. The way you see the world as a kid isn't going to be the same way you'll see it for the rest of your life."
"The world through the eyes of a kid is a much more beautiful one."
"Yes," he nods. "I agree. I think it's easier to only see the good things it has to offer. But I also disagree in a way."
I feel confused by this because my world as a child almost feels magical looking back on it now. I've always had a little bit of bitterness within me with this need to want to get away, even from a young age. But everything felt like magic and my curiosity drove me to a lot of amazing, and not so amazing, moments that would stick with me for years.
"Why?" I ask. "What do you mean?"
"Well there's all the different quotes that essentially say as you grow up your heart dies... you know, less compassion, less imagination, less love." Harry begins to explain and I nod. "I understand why people say this, it's easy to let the world crush your heart into this little washed up piece of something that once held a lot of potential.
"But I think the people who can get through that and somehow manage to hold onto a little bit of that childhood spirit are the ones who see the world in the most beautiful way," he breathes out, talking slowly. "Sometimes you need the rainy days to appreciate the sunshine."
I don't think the feeling that I get in my body when I have conversations like this with Harry will ever go away no matter how many times we end up here. I love the fact that I can go from joking around about braiding his hair to something as serious as how people see the world within minutes.
I think it's very telling of our relationship. It isn't this superficial infatuation with each other, but this multi-leveled connection that only seems to get deeper with each interaction.
Because of this I realize just how much I trust this boy in front of me, who is currently sporting a half braided hairdo. Every ounce of reliance that he's going to be there for me when I need it, that he'll tell me the truth, that he'll hug me when I start to give up on things... these feelings are so invested into him. It's at the point where I can't even try to stop myself anymore.
Acknowledging this entirety of trust I have for him makes me realize how badly I want everything to be out in the open. And because of this I decide to bring something up that I was scared to admit when I first met him.
"Do you want to know what happened that made me decide to run away?" I ask bluntly, not adding in any sort of casual transition into my choice of topic.
Harry seems shocked by this question at first, stumbling on the words coming of his mouth. "What?" he asks. "No, wait- err. Yeah, I want to know... but you don't have to tell me, Greta. I know it isn't this simple thing, you've said that before."
"No I want to," I stop him before he can go on any longer on how he doesn't need that from me. "It feels like I've kept it in my head for too long now and I haven't really talked about it... I want to talk about it with you."
"Okay," Harry responds quietly, realizing this is something I want and not something I feel obligated to do.
"Let me just finish this," I say, talking about his hair. "I'm almost done."
Harry nods again, moving his legs out in front of him as his focus returns to the TV. I finish his hair quickly, feeling proud of myself for the slightly ridiculous hairdo. The result is two braids down the side and a bun like thing in the center. I pat on Harry's shoulders, telling him I'm finished and he turns his head to smile at me before he stands up.
I watch him as he walks across the dark room toward a mirror, turning on a light to get a better view of his new hair. When he gets a good look at himself in the reflection he automatically starts laughing, smiling over at me with crinkled eyes.
"Looks great, baby," he continues to laugh as he walks back over to where I'm sitting. "Don't think I've ever looked better," he sort of tackles me on to the bed, my back hitting the mattress. He kisses my lips for a moment, pushing me further into the bed and then he pulls back with a smile still on his face. "It's cute, huh?"
"Very," I laugh, moving my hand to brush over the braids. "Quite the look you have going."
He smiles again, still on top of me but he slowly gets up to give me more space. Normally I would feel the need to pull him back down, not allowing him to put any more of a gap between our bodies. But between the heat of the room and knowing where the next conversation is going, I decide him lying on top of me isn't the best position for us to be in.
We don't move far from each other though, only a few inches separating our bodies from where we sit on top of the bed. Harry stares at me softly. It's in a way where he's trying to tell me everything I want to hear without actually speaking.
"So this isn't the only reason I decided to leave," I begin, reminding him that it's more complicated than just one thing. "There were a lot of other things that built up to it. I was very unsatisfied with how everything in my life was going. I came home from a year of college not feeling like anything changed for the better. Laurel and I were going through a weird thing for a while where we didn't talk much. And I was beginning to feel like I was floating around without anywhere to actually go. Everything felt purposeless."
I honestly don't allow myself to think too much about this time in my life at this point. It was months of repetitiveness that I didn't enjoy and it felt like the people I loved most in life were only there to carry on their own lives, rather than sharing a fraction of it with me.
"I was already contemplating not returning to school when summer ends and at this rate that's where I think I'm headed. I don't really know what I want to do with my life and it felt like if I went back it wouldn't help any... instead of widening my opportunities like it should, it felt like it was suffocating them."
Harry nods his head slowly, listening to every word that comes out of my mouth. It feels nice to be able to let this all out and just have him listen.
"Remember how I said my sister and I got in a fight?" I ask and he nods his head again, recalling my brief mention of it. "Well that was what set me off... after that it didn't feel right to stay and try to figure out how to get past it. It's a little cowardly of me to run away from my problems rather than face them. But it's more than that, you know? It was just as much about running to search for something as it was to get away from the few problems I have."
I stop talking for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts. I turn my head to the side, focusing on the way the light of the TV changes the color of the white wall. When I return my eyes to Harry who's sitting in front of me, he gives me a small smile and reaches for my hand, rubbing over it softly.
It's enough to keep me going. It feels right to tell Harry this. Even if it doesn't affect us directly anymore it's nice to finally talk to someone about it.
"I was supposed to be watching Blair," I start up again. "She doesn't really need to be watched considering she's thirteen, but it was my job to make sure she didn't get into any trouble. My mom told me Blair was coming back from a friend's, and that she'd be home in the early afternoon. My mom left to go to her "book club" which really means she was going to the casino with her friends.
"She doesn't have a gambling problem... that isn't where this is going," I add quickly and Harry lets out a small burst of quiet laughter, causing me to smile with him. "So anyways, I was just lounging around the house that day. I had it off and Laurel was busy so I decided to make cookies and relax. Blair did come home in the early afternoon, only she wasn't alone like I was expecting.
"When she walked through the front door I remember I had this immediate suspicion that I wish I would have acted on. She was with her friend that's a few years older who's never given me much of a good impression, and her friend's boyfriend was with them too. Blair told me some story that I don't even remember and then she went out to our shed in the backyard."
The shed isn't just a small covering we keep gardening tools in, my mom has her own one of those. The shed she was going to is almost like a clubhouse. We've had it since Pat and I were kids. And as we grew older it matured as well, turning into a hangout spot that is most commonly used by Blair.
"I didn't think anything of it," I continue. "She goes out there all the time so it wasn't like it was anything new. I went back to my own thing, finishing the cookies and letting her be. I was never the type of sister to hound over her... I trusted her."
That was part of the problem though. I had too much trust in Blair. She isn't a bad kid and even after the incident I still don't think she is. But she's young and curious and sometimes does things without thinking of further consequences, so really I should have been paying a little more attention.
I know my mom said it wasn't fair to put the blame on myself because I'm not Blair's mother, I'm her sister. But I still feel this need to protect her.
"When the cookies were finished I decided to bring out some for her and her friends," my eyes move to Harry's again and I know he can tell were approaching the moment that changed everything. "I put some on a plate and walked to the back door, walking across the yard to the shed. As soon as I walked in though I dropped the plate onto the floor and it shattered."
I didn't bother to knock because it was just as much my shed as it was hers. She didn't have this claim over it like she did with her room. So they didn't have time to hide anything they were doing before turning their heads quickly to the sound of the glass breaking against the cement below me.
Harry's eyebrows scrunch together tightly and I can tell he's concerned with what I'm about to say. He squeezes my hand again as though to encourage me.
"I waked in to see my thirteen-year old sister with her mouth pressed to a bong, smoking pot," I tell him quietly, nearly whispering the words. "I was so shocked... I almost felt like throwing up."
I don't have anything against people who choose to do this. Laurel does sometimes, not often but enough that I'm used to it. I don't think it defines you as a person and I'm all for people making their own decisions... but Blair is thirteen and so young. Just so young and it felt like she was trying to prove something to her older friends.
Harry doesn't give me much of a reaction, trying to stay calm for the both of us. When I look into his eyes as he's staring back at me I realize this moment isn't as hard to talk about as I once thought it was. It just feels nice to get it out of my head.
"Naturally I yelled at her, might have even thrown the bong to the ground next to the plate I smashed earlier," I tell Harry, almost laughing as I think about it now. "Of course her and her super cool friends were not happy with me about it. I know I wasn't playing with dolls when I was thirteen and Laurel and I got ourselves into plenty of trouble... but this was different. It scared me because I felt like she was trying to grow up too fast and I couldn't figure out why she would want to do that when I was so unhappy with where I was."
I pause for a moment, taking a deep breath. Harry scoots so he's no longer sitting in front of me and instead by my side with his arm over my shoulder. I lean into him, wrapping an arm around his waist and breathe in.
"I was even angrier when her friend mentioned something about Laurel," I start up again. "She said something like 'Blair, I don't understand why your sister is flipping out. Didn't we get this from her best friend?' After hearing this I didn't even want to look at Blair's friends so I kicked them out. I'm sure I yelled some more but I honestly don't even remember at this point."
It was hard enough to see my baby sister doing something that I wouldn't find mildly acceptable for at least a few more years, so hearing my Laurel's potential involvement in it was even more difficult. Of course Blair gave up the least amount of information as possible, insisting that Laurel didn't do anything but I knew she went to her for it.
"Laurel was seeing this guy named Tony at the time," I explain to Harry. "I'm not sure if she still is, but I'd like to think she's smart enough to get out of that. Tony didn't make his money the way the most of us do... basically to put it in simple terms he's a drug dealer."
"Wow," I hear Harry above me. It's the first things he's said since I started explaining everything so it makes me jump a little. But he squeezes on to me tighter with his arm still around my shoulder and I know that's all he needs to get out for the moment.
"Yeah," I agree with him because this one part of my life sounds a lot more like a soap opera than anything close to reality. "Somewhere between a very loud argument with Blair and trying to figure out why the hell she was smoking pot she let it slip that while buying it from Tony the cops showed up. He was arrested along with some other guy but Blair and her friends were able to get out of there before anything seriously happened to her."
Harry doesn't say anything but his arm drops from around me and he quickly scoots away. It's hard to tell exactly because it's dark in the room, but when I look at his face he's pale and blinking quickly like he's trying to figure something out.
"Are you okay?" I ask, temporarily pulled away from my story.
He doesn't answer at first, opening and closing his mouth a few times without any words, but then he nods, "Yeah," speaking quietly. "Yeah, sorry... I'm fine. Sorry to interrupt."
I stare at him for a little longer, trying to decide if he's telling the truth or not. When he smiles at me, his eyes still looking like their searching for something I let my skepticism slide away and continue.
"Umm," I feel unsure of where to pick back again for a moment, trying to remember where I was. "Then to make everything worse this is when my mom decided to come home. We were still in the shed yelling at the each other, and she walked in trying to figure out what was going on. Blair looked at me like she was begging me not tell my mom the truth and for a moment I really thought about it."
It felt like I was back at the breakfast table when my mom was interrogating us on who broke her beloved vase and I took the blame for Pat. I felt this urge to do it again, tell my mom some silly story so Blair wouldn't get in trouble... but I didn't.
The only problem was this didn't help my side of things at all because somehow my mom shifted the blame onto me.
"I told her of course. I tried to say it calmly and explain it without getting too worked up. But it was hard considering the yelling match I had just been in," I tell Harry. "Instead of her lecturing Blair on all of the reasons she shouldn't have been doing what she was doing, she yelled at me. For whatever reason in my mom's head at that moment she felt like telling me it was my fault for letting it happen made more sense than doing something like grounding Blair."
I know my mom didn't mean for it to be like that. She's even said that since talking to her over the phone. I know now that she only yelled at me because she was scared too and felt guilty. Only instead of owning up to that guilt she put it entirely on me.
Even if I realize this now, I certainly wasn't thinking about it while it was happening. The only thing running through my head was that my sister said she hated me, my mom was acting like she did, and I felt like Laurel betrayed me by having a potential part in it.
"I guess once this happened it felt like I didn't belong there," I say as I look back at Harry. "I was only trying to do what I thought was right in the situation and somehow I was the one getting in trouble for it. It felt like everyone was against me and no matter how much I loved them, they wouldn't love me back."
I know this sounds a bit dramatic but that's how it felt at the moment. I was trying to look out for my sister and she told me she hated me. I was trying to tell my mom what happened and she told me it was my fault. And when I called Laurel as I was packing my bag to leave home she originally denied everything.
"Maybe I should have stuck around a little longer and let things cool down and allowed myself time to figure it out," I blink quickly and Harry scoots closer to me again, wrapping his arm around my shoulder like it was earlier. "But it just felt like this reason to finally let myself leave. I know other people in the world have issues far bigger than my family drama... but I just wasn't happy, you know?"
We're quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room coming from the television that is still playing a show we haven't been paying attention to. It's still unbearably hot in the room but I don't have any desire to move away from Harry in an attempt to get away from his body heat. Instead, I only move closer.
"Yes, I know," Harry responds, whispering the words. "I absolutely do, Greta. I'm so sorry you had to deal with that... really shitty."
"Yeah," I nod, agreeing with him. "Thanks for letting me go on and on... felt nice to be able to say it all out loud."
"Of course, sweet girl," he smiles when I look up at him, rocking me back and forth. "That's what I'm here for. I love listening to you talk... prefer when it isn't about sad things in your life, but I'll be here in any way I can."
I look up at him again and when my eyes meet his it almost knocks the breath right out of me. It isn't like I haven't done this a million times before, we've shared plenty of longing gazes with each other, but this time I suddenly realize something.
A huge part of the reason I decided to run away was because I felt this lack of love, but now when I see the way Harry looks back at me I don't feel an ounce of this emptiness. We haven't admitted any feelings quite to this level yet and I might be overestimating this look he's giving me, but I can tell that Harry loves me.
Maybe it isn't even that he's completely in love with me. But there is something, it might be very small but there's something deeper behind the look in his eyes. It's everything I could need at this moment... to know someone cares about me that much.
I'm sure I'm jumping to conclusions since we haven't verbally expressed to this each other but I only allow myself to think about this for so long.
The feeling this look gives me makes me think I could burst into flames at any moment, and this isn't the incredibly hot room influencing anything. I feel myself being drawn to him, moving quickly as I grab onto the side of his face and press my lips into his.
I can tell he's shocked at first as I force myself on top of him, kissing him with even more purpose than I normally do. He doesn't take long to kiss back though and soon enough we're in the usual rhythm with his hands moving up and down my arms slowly. Only this time I think it's clear to both of us I want a little more out of this kiss.
He sits up as he continues to kiss me, holding the back of head to pull me in closer to him. I'm sitting in his lap at this point, pushing my body down into his which earns a low groan from his mouth as his tongue moves with mine. I can feel every part of his body against mine and it only causes me to kiss him harder.
I feel his hands at the bottom of my shirt, pulling on it lightly. Instead of moving myself closer to him to block any potential removal, I briefly pull away to allow it.
"Is this okay?" Harry asks between heavy breaths, clearly just as worked up as I am. "You're still okay with this, Greta?"
I nod quickly, trying to catch my breath for a moment. I appreciate his insistence on making sure I'm comfortable with everything, especially in a moment like this where I'm only okay with going so far.
"Yes," I continue to nod. "This is okay... very okay."
He smiles at me briefly, pressing another kiss into my lips and then continues to pull on my shirt, eventually tugging it off with a quick motion. He stays distracted for a few moments while he kisses me heavily. But then he pulls away and a smirk automatically spreads across his face as he gets a good look.
This is the most exposed I've been to Harry since our skinny dipping adventure that feels like forever ago. This is a whole different level of vulnerability though because before we were in a much different position with a state of mind that wasn't nearly as sexually driven. Now though, I'm sitting on top of him only in my underwear and the bra he had his hands on when he washed my clothes in the laundromat.
"Knew that bra was a good one," he shakes his head as he continues to look me up and down. "God, you're beautiful," his hands move to my waist, gripping tightly. "Just so, so good, Greta," I feel his lips on my neck, kissing between the whispered words.
I laugh quietly as he tongue tickles my neck, kissing slowly. My arms move to rest on his shoulders, my body still sitting on top of him and I let myself enjoy this slow, sweet moment after our aggressive kissing from my moments ago.
"Remember how I mentioned that I wasn't selfish?" Harry asks quietly between wet kisses.
"Mhmm," I answer him, not being able to form coherent words.
"Maybe I could show you what I mean by that?" he whispers the suggestion, moving his kisses up to my jaw. "I think you'd really like it... if you want."
I don't even hesitate to answer, knowing exactly what he means by this and knowing entirely that I want it. I nod quickly. Pulling away from his slow kisses, I look him in the eyes as I answer.
"Yeah," I nod, biting my lip. "I think I'd be up for a demonstration."
A large smile overcomes his face but the only thing in his eyes is deep lust, which is intimidating and incredibly hot at the same time. Harry moves his hands lower from my waist, squeezing onto my butt as he turns us around so I'm no longer sitting on top of him. His body stays pressed to mine as we move positions and it doesn't take more than a few seconds before his lips are back on mine, kissing me again.
Everything slows down at this moment and neither of us is a huge rush anymore. It feels like were trying to savor this moment for as long as we possibly can.
Eventually his lips leave mine, kissing in a similar fashion as he was when I was sitting on top of him, trailing down my neck. This time though he continues to move down, stopping for a moment to admire my chest. Even if I'm never going to attain Victoria Secret model status, the way Harry's eyes are looking at me now makes me forget about any of that.
When his lips continue to move down my body, his rough hands rubbing against my skin, I begin to realize exactly where we're going with this. Instead of the nervous heart pounding I was anticipating to happen, I only feel the good kind.
Harry reaches the band of my underwear, staring up at me as his hands gently push my legs apart. "Still good?" he asks sweetly, checking on me again.
"Yes," I nod, staring down at him.
"Would you be terribly offended if I took out the braids?" he asks with a smile on his face. "It's a lovely hair style... but I was hoping my hair could be of a little more use."
I'm not entirely sure what this means, but my brain is far too foggy with Harry's body for me to tell him anything otherwise. "No," I shake my head. "I don't mind."
He nods quickly, pulling out the hairbands that were keeping his hair in place. Then he shakes out his hair, running his hand through it to push the strands away from his face. Once his wild hair is back to its usual state, he reassumes his position between my legs from moments earlier.
I feel him pull at the waistband of my underwear, moving them off my legs slowly. I don't even allow myself to think too much into this moment and everything Harry's seeing because the look on his face is far too distracting. I'm not sure he could look happier.
"Good?" he asks once more, confirming that I'm still on board. I feel his hands on either side of my legs and his breath getting closer and it almost feels like I can't speak with how overwhelmed I feel.
"Yeah," I choke on the word. "Yeah. So good."
He gives me one more smile, his eyes mischievous and then dives in. It's at this moment where I realize his reasoning for taking his braids out and letting his hair free. Because that's exactly the first place my hands go to.
...
Woah, woah, woah... this is so long (hopefully not too long). I just couldn't find a good way to split this in two.
Well, lot's happened so I'd love to hear your opinion on it all. Like Harry and Greta getting a little naughty... just saying that's probably as detailed as it will ever get. I don't plan to write much smut related stuff in here for a few reasons. I don't want my rating to go up too far and it's not the most essential part of the story (but it does show some progression in their relationship that I think is important.)
Alright thanks for reading! I do have finals next week so I probably won't be updating until after that but hopefully this long chapter will hold you over until then.