Chapter 78
"Stop moving," I said softly, my free hand shooting out to clamp around Harry's wrist. He exhaled sharply through his nose. "You're gonna mess it up."
It was the morning of the gallery showing. I'd woken up early, a swirl of anxiety muddling my thoughts the very moment I'd opened my eyes. It was the date I'd been thinking about almost every single day since the one last year, amidst all of the other things that had popped up these past few months, of course.
Harry, as always when he could sense something was the matter with me, had been an angel. He'd woken up not too many moments later, collecting me in his arms, promising with a kiss against the shell of my ear and then down to the crook of my neck that it was all going to go great. All of my planning and hard work was going to pay off accordingly.
And to be fair, he usually hit the nail on the head with what was troubling me, but whether or not the gallery showing was going to run smoothly actually happened to be the least of my worries. Ever since the man working with Damien had shown up with my name on his hit list, I'd been overwhelmed with panic at the thought of any more of them following. Even after Morgan, Harry and Zayn had told me incessantly that there were multiple new cameras and higher security added to the studio, I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. With everyone I cared about all crowded into a single space for the span of a few hours, it almost felt like there was no way something wouldn't go wrong.
"My face is itchy," Harry muttered. I was sitting on his lap, his hand in my own, as I painted a fresh coat of blue polish onto the bed of his nails. His favourite colour and the shade that would be matching my dress tonight. His free hand, the one I'd already painted, slipped onto my waist beneath my shirt.
"Stop!" I hissed, urging him against the action, despite how cold my skin felt the moment the pads of his fingers withdrew back to his own lap. "You're going to smudge it. Where's your face itchy?"
"My nose," he said plainly.
With a small sigh, I reached up to itch his nose. He'd been like this since we sat down. Antsy, clingy, refusing to keep his hands to himself before his nails dried.
"'m, my cheek, too," he added, eyes closed the same way Loaf's were whenever I scratched her in just the right place. I rolled my eyes. "Lower," he said, voice rough.
"Better?" I asked, tipping my head to the side, assessing him with a teasing glare the moment his eyes flew back open.
He scrunched up his nose. "No. Kiss me." I made no move too. A short breath fell from the back of his throat, and he leaned forward anyway, eyes fluttering back shut.
"Ah–" I caught him by the neck. His eyes flew back open, surprised delight lingering within them. "No. No kisses until I'm done, you absolute menace. What should have taken ten minutes has taken over thirty. Be–have–" I drew the word out, giving him a short squeeze, "–and I will give you what you want."
The corner of Harry's mouth quirked up. He licked his lower lip, looking very much amused, before sinking back against the couch. "Noted, baby."
He reached up to idly toy with the bottom of my hair as I hunched back over to resume my painting, my heart skipping a beat when he began to hum along to the song playing softly in the background. Hungry Heart by Bruce Springsteen.
"The River," he murmured softly. I could tell he was looking at me. Could tell that he was even smiling by the way his mouth curved around the words. "That's what this album's called. D'you know that?"
"I did know," I chorused back, working to suppress a smile of my own.
"Everybody's got a hungry heart," he sang softly, swaying his head to the tune. "Lay down your money and you play your part. I'd write an album for you. I'd dedicate everything to you if I could."
"Mhm," I responded with another slight roll of my eyes, pinching his thumb gently to keep him steady. The final coat. "I'm sure."
"I'm serious," Harry grabbed me gently by the chin and dragged me up to face him. The blue-coated brush struck his skin. So close. "We took what we had and we ripped it apart," he sang, grinning at me, leaning in close. "Everybody's got a h-h-hungry heart. Oh–!" He was too quick for me. His mouth found mine before I'd even had the chance to object – not that I'd have wanted to anyway.
I gladly kissed him back, abandoning my earlier summons. He hummed happily into my mouth, his hand smoothing from my jaw to my cheek. He cupped the skin softly, nudging his nose against my own as he pulled back.
"Your thumb's all messed up," I deadpanned to him.
He grinned harder. "Good."
"Not good," I mimicked, working to remove myself from his lap. Harry held me steady, refusing to let me do so. "I'm supposed to be a painter, I am quite literally showing off a number of my own paintings tonight, and here I am botching your fucking nail polish."
Harry laughed in harmony with me. He held up his thumb to inspect it, biting down on his lower lip in mock contemplation. "I'd say it's got a nice Riv touch to it."
"You think I fuck up all my paintings?"
"I think you give them all your own flourish."
"Good save."
"Always."
"You wanna start getting ready?"
"Baby," Harry's mouth parted in complete astonishment. His hands landed on my hips. "We've got fuckin' hours."
"And I have to do shower, do my hair, my makeup, make sure everything is–woop!"
Harry swung me off his lap and onto the couch. He extended a freshly painted hand in my direction, hauling me to my feet the moment I slid my fingers toward his.
"You can't go now," he wrapped me in his arms, reaching into my back pocket for my phone, where he thumbed the volume of the music all the way up before continuing, in a slight shout might I add, "Not when this song is just begging us to dance."
Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy had just begun to come through the speakers.
"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things," Harry belted, yanking us away from the couch and into the open space of the living room. He held me at arms length, spinning me in a tight circle. "We can do the tango just for two! I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings. Be your Valentino just for you!"
His energy was infectious. I found myself grinning the second time he swung me around, a full laugh bellowing from deep in my chest when he dipped me down, managing a swift kiss on the tip of my nose, before he hauled me back up and I sang aloud to him, "Ooh, love, ooh loverboooooy! What're you doin' tonight, hey, boy?"
"Set my alarm, turn on my charm," his dimpled popped out as the lyrics tumbled from his tongue, "That's because I'm a good old-fashioned loverboy!"
He hauled me to his chest, placing his chin atop my head as we both swayed the length of the living room, singing in harmony, "Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat – Grow faster, faster," his hand ran up the length of my spine, "Ooh, ooh, can you feel my love heat? Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love. And tell me how do you feel right after all? I'd like for you and I to go romancing, Say the word, your wish is my commmaaand!"
The two of us swung back and forth, dancing and laughing, Harry's grin deepening whenever I faced him. Meatloaf, who must have heard the ruckus from where she'd been asleep on Harry's chair in his room (her favourite spot) had come bounding down to prance at our ankles.
Harry yanked me toward him for a final time, dipping me low to the ground, his hair brushing the skin of my forehead as he sang eloquently, eyes sparkling and cheeks a deep red now, "When I'm not with you, Think of me always, Love you, Love you–"
I swung us both around to sing back, "Hey, boy, where do you get it from? Hey, boy, where did you go? I learned my passion, In the good-old fashioned School of loverboys–"
"You better fucking not have," he shot back, looking slightly sick with elation. "I better be your only loverboy–"
"My one and only."
Harry kissed me then. I could feel his grin against his mouth, revelled in the way he was breathing slightly heavily, his hands scouring every inch of my back to pull me closer. The two of us had long forgotten he was supposed to focus on drying his nails. I, for one, no longer cared.
When we finally broke apart, Harry had reached up to cup my face. The pads of his fingers on his left hand dropped down to my pulse point, where he let them rest for a second or two, before murmuring with a small grin, "Your heart's racing. Scared?"
"Happy," I shot back, meeting his gaze with no hesitation. "Scared at the prospect that someday I won't be this happy."
"If I have anything to do with it," Harry responded quietly, "sarai felice ogni giorno, per il resto della tua vita."
"Aaaaand that's my cue," I put some distance between us, placing my hands flat on his chest. Absentmindedly, I balled the material of his shirt in my fists. "Once you start speaking Italian, I'm out–"
"I thought you loved it!" Harry hollered to me as I shoved away from him and spun toward the stairs. He was laughing.
"I am going to shower," I called back over my shoulder. "You're either coming to join me and promising to speak English or–"
"English it is, my little dove," Harry was already at my side and swung an arm around my waist, leaning in for an eager kiss on my cheek. "Let's go get cleaned up."
--
"Okay, this one–" Morgan held a gold chain around her neck, swivelling in a half-circle away from the mirror to face me. "Or this one?" She held up a gold cross that dropped to just between the line of her bosom.
Cocking my head to the side, I assessed them both with a squint before responding, "Chain. I like the chain." Then, as she glanced down at them both herself, I quickly blurted, "Not because I'm like anti-christian or anything. God's cool. He's sick. Good guy. I mean, I don't believe in him, but the cross is nice. Maybe wear the cross, actually. Or don't. Am I talking too much? Is this–"
"Riv, babe, settle," Morgan laughed, placing her hands on either of my shoulders. I was sitting on the bed in Harry's spare bedroom. We'd both been here for the better part of an hour, Morgan and Zayn having showed up just a bit before then so that we could all get ready together. Or rather, so that Morgan and I could get ready together. "I like the chain too," she finally set, giving me a squeeze before turning back toward the mirror. I stood up, idly helping her to latch it behind her neck. She smiled softly at me in the mirror. "Nervous, I take it? Never heard you talk about God so much in my fuckin' life."
"I'm... yeah. A bit nervous."
Being with Harry had been nice. It had taken my mind off things, and I was especially grateful that he'd cancelled all of his plans this morning to spend those few hours with me but that didn't mean I couldn't stop my anxiety from mounting as the hours wore on, the day drawing nearer and nearer to the showing. I was nearly trembling the moment Morgan and I had stepped into the spare bedroom to start getting ready.
"Hey," she spun around, cupping my face in her hand. "Don't be. We've had this all planned for weeks. Everything is gonna go smoothly. Your art is bomb as fuck. Wouldn't be surprised if it's all sold within the first hour, okay? You've got nothing to worry about."
I nodded; suddenly grateful I'd chosen to get ready with her. Normally, this time was allotted for Olivia, Raven, Angel and Zoe, all of whom I'd decided this year I was going to meet there. I knew the moment I saw them, my already elevated anxiety was only bound to skyrocket, and I wanted to keep some safe distance between us for as long as possible. In my mind, the further away from me they stayed, the safer they were.
"You don't think any of Damien's men are going to show up tonight, right?" I blurted, feeling my face immediately begin to heat. As soon as the words had fallen from my tongue, it seemed almost stupid. Why would they target me? Why would it matter what I did anyway? Compared to the stresses Morgan, Zayn and Harry dealt with on the daily, I kind of felt like an idiot worrying about whether I was important enough to be sought after.
To my surprise, Morgan's face just fell. "Oh, my girl," she murmured, falling onto the bed beside me. She pulled me into her arms, tight enough that I could feel the chain she'd just put on pressing deeply into my own skin. "No one's going to hurt you tonight, okay?" she whispered into my ear, running her hands up and down my back. "And they aren't going to hurt anyone else that you love, I promise. How long have you been worrying about this?"
Her words unravelled something buried in me. I sunk into her hold, letting my forehead rest on her shoulder. "I'm just so scared. I don't want to put anyone at risk, you know?" Ever since Harry had taken me to see his warehouse, it had shaken me, as much as I'd tried to hide it. I hadn't realized the very vastness of what he dealt with; how many people truly worked beneath him. "Am I crazy to be worried about that?"
It made me worried about how many people Damien had backing him. How many of those people were out to get Harry.
"Not at all," Morgan cooed. She held me at arm's length, angling her head to the side. "Not at all, baby. I... I wish this..." she seemed a little at a loss for words. "I didn't ever want you to be worrying about this shit. The stuff we're all trying to fucking forget."
Her words, despite how softly she'd spoken them, had done nothing to lessen my anxiety. So this was normal stuff to be concerned about in their line of work?
"I'm sorry–"
"No, no," she shook her head vehemently. "Don't be sorry. Just... know we've got it covered, okay? You're safe tonight. And always. You're our number one priority. We won't let anything happen to you."
"Okay, but I don't want anything happening to you either," I said quickly, eyes widening.
She grinned gently. A closed mouth grin that somehow had me feeling a bit at ease. She reached up to gently pinch my chin. "Nothing will happen to us. We're a hell of a lot stronger than them." She narrowed her eyes over my shoulder at nothing in particular. "Those stupid fucking shit for brains little dick cunts."
"I–yup," it was hard not to laugh as I found myself nodding quite erratically. "That's exactly how I would have put it."
"You're going to be fine," she reiterated with a sharp squeeze on my shoulders. "I promise. And I do not promise often. Okay?"
"Okay," I nodded and reached up to grab her hand. "I'm glad you'll be there."
"Are you kidding me? Zayn and I have been looking forward to this since you mentioned it. I don't know when the last time it was that we got dressed up for something other than one of fuckhead's shitty events," she blew out a long breath. "It'll be nice to go somewhere and not have to worry about anybody dying before our eyes."
"You know, you don't have to be going to a big event to dress up for something," I shrugged and watched carefully as she turned back toward the mirror to adjust her makeup, dragging a finger down the side of her lips to catch the bit of lipstick that had migrated onto her skin. "We could make it a weekly thing to go out to a nice dinner, dress up, and get drunk. Just the two of us."
"You mean you'll take me out?" She grinned, whirling back around to face me. Her eyebrows wiggled up and down. "Like on a date, miss River? I will happily oblige." With a flourish, she placed her hand on her chest and feigned a gasp. "My, I cannot wait to tell Harry."
"Oh, please do," I laughed. "He'll do anything in his power to say he needs to tag along, and it will give me quite a lot of pleasure to deny him of that."
"You're cruel," Morgan laughed, her eyes twinkling. "I fucking love it. I'm so glad Harry found you." She paused for a split second, swallowing hard, seeming to think hard about something before giving my hands a squeeze. "Seriously. I don't know where any of us would have been without you."
The feeling that spread through me was unlike any other. Instinctively, I found myself wanting to roll my eyes and contradict that statement, but at the same time, I could say the exact same thing about her, Harry, Zayn and the others. Where would I have been without any of them?
Just as I opened my mouth to respond, a voice carried through the halls.
"Ay! Morgs! Riv! You girls have got less than 20 minutes before we have to hightail it to the studio–"
"Hightail it?" Morgan shouted back at her boyfriend. She stood up and faced the open doorway; hands on her hips. "Who the fuck says hightail it? How old are you–? 70?"
Zayn laughed this time as he responded, "Hurry up!"
"He's talking to me, I guess," I said gently, glancing down at my lap. My hands were suddenly clammy.
Morgan was already dressed – to the nines, might I add. Clad in a black, velvet dress that dropped low on her chest and even lower on her back. She looked like she'd stepped right out of a fucking magazine, her movements light and airy as she spun around to inspect herself in the mirror. Her tattoos offset perfectly the material draped over her body and I couldn't help but feel a pang of something that I couldn't quite decipher as either jealousy or lust as I looked her over.
"Alright," she clapped her hands together suddenly. "Let's get you dressed."
"Hey," I asked, somewhat softly, as she led me into the bathroom. The sight of my dress hanging atop the tub nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. Morgan had bought it online for me a few weeks ago, promising that it would look absolutely amazing, and I'd only just seen it yesterday. As she was in the process of unhooking it, urging with her chin for me to start getting undressed, I went on, "Does Zayn really have a tattoo on his left thigh?"
This stopped Morgan in her tracks. She grinned as I took a seat on the closed toilet, the dress she'd been just seconds before ready to usher me into, now abandoned. "It's very true," she ran her tongue along her inner cheek. "Who's asking?"
"I... um," shaking my head, it was hard to stop my cheeks from flooding with colour. "Harry mentioned it."
"Mm," she cocked her head innocently to the side. Idly, her hand drifted out to toy with my bra strap. "Did he?" Only then did she gently drop the dress into my lap, advancing a few steps in the process. She braced a hand on the wall, glancing down at me. "Well, Zayn and I would be more than happy to show you proof if you're interested. Harry's more than welcome to tag along as well–"
"Oh God, he's gonna fuckin' kill me for even bringing it up," I muttered with a laugh, shooing her away as I got to my feet.
"His fault for mentioning it," Morgan shrugged, still grinning. "Spin." I obeyed, letting her undo my bra from behind, which she slowly slid off my left arm. Leaning in, she whispered, "Better with this dress if you go without." Then, she was helping me step into the deep blue silk material, hauling it up to my chest, carefully adjusting the straps along each of my shoulders.
Our eyes met in the mirror as she carefully spun me in a half-circle. She was smiling. A type of smile I couldn't quite read.
"There," she said in my ear. Her hands were still on my shoulders. She gave a gentle squeeze. "Perfect. You look incredible."
And it was true. I looked good. Really good. With my hair and makeup done perfectly according to her hand, it was hard not to be just the slightest bit shocked at the girl who stared back at me in the mirror. The dress curved low on my chest as well, but in a way that flattered my bare neckline and didn't make me self-conscious. Looking in the mirror, I was suddenly grateful I'd let her choose my dress.
"Jesus," I blurted, catching my widened eyes in the reflection.
"Yeah," Morgan nodded, with a closed lip expression of her own. "Jesus. Harry's gonna have an aneurysm. He's going to fucking explode–"
"You don't think it's too much?"
"I think it's just enough."
"Thank you," I said, turning around to face her. "Seriously, for everything. For having my back and just being there constantly. I really appreciate it."
Morgan managed a grin that I could only imagine harboured the same amount of emotion my own currently held. "I love you," she said softly. "Thank you for coming into my life at just the right time."
"I love you, too," I found myself responding effortlessly. "Thank you for being there when I needed you."
Just as the two of us managed to catch each other in an embrace, Zayn's voice followed back up the stairs, "Ten minutes!" he bellowed. "I'm gonna start loading the car."
"God, he's dramatic," Morgan groaned, pulling away to check her appearance one final time. "Guess we should get down there before they leave without us."
"I'd kill Harry if he even tried."
"You're right," Morgan tutted. "It's Zayn we should be worried about."
"Surprised actually that Harry's being so quiet," I commented, wondering if he was hovering around downstairs dressed or still in the process of getting ready. "He's normally the one rushing me." Part of me wanted to peek inside his room but the other part of me also knew I'd never make it out of here if I did that.
"Maybe Zayn already shoved him in the car," Morgan responded. She braced a hand lightly on the small of my back once I slipped my heels on, guiding me towards the hallway. With a stuttered breath, I allowed her to do so, taking only one more quick glance in the mirror at my appearance before working my feet forward.
We reached the landing, Morgan on steady feet and with an air of confidence that I just couldn't quite master, leaving me to try and make it down the stairs without tripping over the material of my dress all the while attempting to maintain conversation about whether or not she felt Harry would be up for hosting an afterparty at his place.
"He's got the space," she said, extending her free arm downstairs. Her other remained on the railing, perfectly manicured nails tapping the wood with each step. "But I doubt he'll agree. Unless you ask, at least. He's always been so weird about having people over."
"I don't think he likes it here," I said quietly, keeping my eyes on the smooth skin of her back during our descent. "I think he prefers to do things in other places."
"It is kind of depressing," Morgan replied. "All the gray tones and empty walls. I'd hate it here too." She suddenly threw an amused glance over her shoulder, wiggling her brows once more. "You know what this means though, don't you?"
"That I should start painting the walls?"
"That you should force him to go house shopping," she said gleefully. We'd reached the bottom and she gracefully extended an arm toward me for support. As I latched on, she leaned in and whispered, "You can find a house that suits the both of you."
"Oh God, Morgs," I half-whined, shaking my head. "We literally just started dating, which took him fucking months, by the way, and here you are saying we should look for a house together? I think that's the number one thing you're not supposed to do after having just gotten into a relationship."
"So what?" she rolled her eyes with a grin. "You two practically live together anyway. And when has H ever been conventional? If anyone's going to tear apart those stupid unspoken relationship rules, it'll be him–"
"Be who?"
The two of us jumped at the sound of Zayn's voice, which was a little humorous to me given that Morgan always seemed to be on her toes. She whirled to face him, looking a little annoyed. "First you rush us," she mocked, still smiling. Our arms unlinked as she stepped toward him, bracing her hands on his chest. "Now you're trying to listen in on our private conversations? How dare you, Mr. Malik."
"Sue a guy for hearing something about tearing apart a relationship from his girlfriend and suddenly getting a little worried," he dipped his head down for a kiss, only to be thwarted at the very last second.
"Red!" she hissed, gripping his jaw so fiercely that I could pick out the indentations of her nails in his skin when he grinned. "I'm wearing red lipstick. Don't you dare."
"You're so mean to me," he feigned a frown and looked her face a few times over. Suddenly, I found myself looking anywhere other than the two of them, desperately wishing Harry were here so that I didn't have to intrude on this moment of theirs–
"I hope you aren't wearing red too," a certain voice rumbled in my ear. Instinctively, my shoulders dropped, and a relaxed breath fell from my lips as I swung in a circle to find Harry, who had crept up behind me, having answered my unspoken prayers. His mouth parted slightly the moment our eyes met, and he looked me once over, swallowing thickly, before murmuring, "Hi."
I grinned. "Hi."
His lashes fluttered with a few quick blinks. He opened and closed his mouth once, twice, a third time before finally clearing his throat and saying, "You look beautiful." His hand drifted toward my shoulder. He drew his knuckle down the silk of my dress, letting it hang by my ribs. Gently angling his head to the side, I could practically see the way the flush on his face deepened. "How'd I get so lucky, hm?"
Vaguely, I could sense that Morgan and Zayn had fled elsewhere – probably to the car – not that it would have mattered anyway. It seemed that when I was with Harry, nothing else existed. I didn't want anything else to exist. Just him. My boy.
"How'd I get so lucky?" I responded with a short laugh, living for our amicable back and forth dialogue that would have otherwise made me nauseous if I'd seen a couple speaking the same way on the street. My hand drifted to his tie, thumbing over the deep blue material matching my dress. "It feels like a dream to get to take you to something that's so important to me."
Harry tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Thank you for inviting me. You're so important to me. You know that, right?" He dropped his forehead to rest on mine, murmuring, "It's a shame Morgan won't let Zayn kiss her when she's got red lipstick on," he closed the gap between us, humming into my mouth, "because messing up your lipstick happens to be my favourite fuckin' thing to do."
When he pulled away, his mouth was covered in red. I tutted at him, reaching up to run the pad of my thumb over his lips. "Messy," I cooed with a grin. "Such a messy boy, hm?"
"Oh," Harry's eyes suddenly widened. He was in the process of fixing the red around my own lips when he abandoned the task to shove his hand deep in his pocket. "Have something for you, by the way." His grin was infectious. "Two things, actually. One of 'em you're gonna hate and kill me for, but the other..." From his pants pocket, he withdrew two boxes, suddenly looking a little nervous.
"Awh," I feigned adoration, grinning teasingly at him. "You're proposing already?" I joked. "And with two rings? How'd I get so lucky–!"
"Fuck off," Harry muttered with a roll of his eyes. He rubbed at the back of his neck, staring me down. Just as teasingly, he asked, "And if it is two engagement rings? Hm? What're you gonna do then?"
"Pawn them off to buy a pair of Gucci shades probably."
"You're insane."
"Ah," I grinned. "But I'm your type of insane, yeah?"
Harry palmed both the boxes off into one hand, using his other to grab me gently by the jaw. He tipped me up to face him, kissing me once swiftly, and then a second time – prolonging it a few seconds. "You are the exact type of insanity I've longed for, my girl."
"Mm," I put a few inches between us. "Poetic."
"Try to be."
"'Kay, quick. What're in the boxes? Now I'm getting antsy–"
"Oh, are you?" Harry laughed, brows shooting up. "Well, maybe I should just take my time then–"
"No!"
"What?" He held the boxes above my head when I reached for them. His face was just a breadths width from mine, our grinning mouths nearly touching. "You want a rushed proposal? Is that what I'm hearing?" He stepped backwards when I reached for the boxes a second time. The last straw was when he slowly lowered himself onto a single knee, bracing his free hand on my thigh over my dress, smiling like a madman. "I'm not one to rush things, Riv, you should know this–"
In response to this, I dropped to my knees myself. Until we were at eye level with one another again. Harry outright laughed at this.
"Don't play this game with me," I said and crossed my arms over my chest.
Harry angled his head to the side, running his tongue over his lower lip. They were still stained slightly red. I could only imagine what my own looked like. I knew Morgan was going to have it in for me the moment I got into the car.
"Why do I feel like you'd pull some shit like this when actually getting proposed to?" Harry asked but finally reached for one of the boxes. The nerves were back on his face, something that made the butterflies in my stomach increase tenfold. It was few and far between when Harry got nervous like this. Softly, he said, "Close your eyes and hold out your wrist."
"What wrist?"
"Your favourite wrist."
My eyes flew back open. "You think I have a favourite wrist?" Harry just looked at me knowingly. With a small sigh, I let my eyes fall back shut. "Fine. Yeah. It's the left. I think it looks prettier." I gently shoved it forward.
The sound of a box opening could be heard, followed by the warmth of Harry's fingers trailing over my skin. Something cool and metallic slid over the length of my wrist, causing my breath to catch in my throat and for a few moments, all was silent save for Harry fastening a clasp.
"Okay," he cleared his throat. "Open."
I'd known it was going to be a bracelet. But when I opened my eyes to find the dainty piece of gold jewellery wrapped around me, something strange happened. Suddenly I found it hard to breathe, and tears pricked my eyes, which I worked to quickly blink away. It was a simple gold chain with a small bar centered in it, where a careful inscription read "la mia bella ragazza" in beautiful cursive.
"Harry," my mouth was parted in awe. "This is–I'm... It's beautiful. So beautiful. Thank you." Right as I'd begun to trace my thumb over the words, Harry suddenly reached for me.
"You haven't seen the second one yet," he said when our eyes met. His voice was low, and his cheeks had deepened to a shade of red that I'd yet to see on him before. I knew he wasn't great at this stuff – the whole receiving of compliments – so I let them hang stagnant in my throat, resolving to shower him with them at the gallery showing, where he couldn't up and escape.
Instead, I leaned forward, cupping his face in my hands, and kissed him deeply.
"Right," I murmured into his mouth. "Show me box two, then." But before he could pull away, I kissed either of his cheeks, grinning at the red marks they left behind. "Thank you." I kissed the tip of his nose. "Thank you." I kissed his forehead. "Thank you." I kissed his chin, his jaw, between his brows, every free inch of skin on his face. "Thank you, thank you, thank you – Oh my god."
He was covered in red lipstick. He looked a little dizzy. And positively sick with glee.
"This is the way I want to die," Harry stated plainly when I grabbed my phone from his pocket to take a photo.
"Morgan is going to kill me."
"Why?" he scrunched his brows together, grinning harder at the picture of him on the screen. "'S my fuckin' face."
"I'm gonna have to get some tissue–"
"Wait," Harry shoved his hand forward. "Open this first."
As I grabbed the box, Harry continued to inspect his face in the camera of my phone, laughing every so often. It was an effort to pull my eyes away from him and pop the lid off the item in my hands. What it revealed was nothing short of comical.
A gold necklace to match the bracelet. Except the initial 'H' hanging from the bottom.
"Figured you could wear it around," Harry grinned slyly. "Show people you're off the market."
"Oh my fucking god," I dropped the box into his lap and stood up suddenly. I could hear Harry calling after me as I slipped my heels off and bounded up the stairs, tripping every few steps over the material of my dress.
"Do you not like that?" he asked. I could hear that he was laughing. "Riv, baby, it was a joke. You don't actually have to wear it around." His voice faded slightly as I came rushing into his room, searching for my purse, which I yanked from the foot of our bed and spun quickly out of the room with.
I was out of breath by the time I met Harry back down at the foot of the stairs, where I realized I hadn't even moved forward from since I'd come down here with Morgan.
Shit, Morgan. Her and Zayn were going to be pissed at how long we were taking. Or actually... maybe they weren't. I hadn't heard anything from either of them in a while. Part of me wondered if they'd left without us.
"Hated the necklace that much, huh?" Harry asked with a grin as I sat back down in front of him. The back of my dress was wrinkling. I didn't care. "And here I was," Harry went on teasingly, "thinking I'd got you the best gift ever. A branding of me–"
"Here," I cut him off suddenly, withdrawing from my purse a box of my own. I was beaming now. "Open this. I forgot I got a gift for you too."
Harry stared down at the box in his hands. The lipstick all over his face made it hard to keep from laughing as he popped it open, mouth breaking out into a grin. From the small box, he withdrew the item I'd ordered for him just days after we'd made it official. Satirically, of course, but now seemed to be the most incredible choice I'd ever made.
A dangly earring bearing the initial 'R'.
"You're fucking kidding," Harry held it up beside his head, laughing. "Did you know I was buying you that necklace?"
"No," I shook my head, laughing harder. "I bought this for you as a joke, thinking it'd be hilarious if I forced you to wear it around–"
Harry was already in the process of taking out his old one. The cross that I'd rarely seen him without unless he was showering or working out. He popped in the new one in less than five seconds. "Force me?" he asked, looking at his appearance once more in the small camera of my phone. The R dangled by the curve of his jaw. "I'll wear it fuckin' willingly, baby."
"Shouldn't you wash it before–?"
"Put on the necklace," Harry said and was in the midst of pulling it out of the box, wrapping it around my neck before I could even object.
"This is so lame," I commented, my hand drifting up to hover over the H now laying across my chest, but found myself smiling nonetheless. "People are actually going to gag when they see us."
"Let 'em," Harry shrugged. He fastened the necklace with ease. "This is so hilarious that we bought each other these without even planning to."
"I guess our brains just work the same way."
Harry let his fingers fall to graze my neck and spun me around to face him. He was grinning idly when he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The two of us were still sitting on the floor so it was quite easy for him to haul me into his lap. "They must," he said finally, leaning in to kiss up the length of my neck. "Says something, doesn't it?"
Just as he pulled back to kiss me on the mouth, a commotion caught us both off guard.
Morgan and Zayn came barrelling into the room, the two of them looking dazed and a little wide-eyed. Harry and I stared at them, and it took me a second to realize that Morgan's dress had fallen past her shoulder, her own lipstick was smeared, and Zayn's face looked almost the equivalent of Harry's.
"We might have to leave a little later than planned," Morgan blurted and reached for Zayn's hand, hauling him toward the stairs. The two of them hastily began their ascent. "Give us a quick ten to get cleaned up."
They both fled before Harry and I could respond. In the silence that followed, where briefly neither of us knew what to say, all that could be managed when we finally caught each other's eye was to just burst out laughing.