Logan
"What about these?"
Leaning against the grocery cart, I watch as Harry smiles while holding a bouquet of carnations and daisies.
"Those are perfect." I smile back as he moves towards me, his long legs eating up the space. "I love them."
Sitting them in the cart, he leans down to press his warm lips to mine. "They aren't as good as the ones I had earlier."
Heat spreads along the apples of my cheeks at the thought. When I saw Harry at the museum today, never in my wildest dreams did I expect for things to get so out of hand so fast.
Sure, I'd daydreamed about being with him in my office... But like that?
No.
I don't think my entire body has ever been this sore— not even when Lauren and I convinced ourselves we could run a half marathon without training for weeks beforehand.
My muscles ache in places that I didn't even know existed after the way Harry quite literally fucked my brains out.
"These are just as perfect as those were." Pushing the cart towards the checkout, I laugh. "It's the thought that counts."
"Well I thought you wouldn't push the others into the floor when I bent you over—"
"Harry!" My laughter bursts from my lips as he reaches for the groceries, setting them on the belt without an ounce of decorum. "Shut up!"
He looks up at me, green eyes full of mischief as his lips carve into a delicate smirk. "Was it something I said?"
"You think you're so funny, don't you?" Sending him a pointed glare, I grab the caesar salad kit along with the eggs from the basket while he starts to scan the items. "I can't stand you sometimes."
Harry laughs, the rich warm sound like a smooth velvet and a day in the summer sunshine.
Bright and happy.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Placing the bags into the cart, he pulls his wallet out before I can even reach in my purse. "Yours or mine?"
I roll my eyes. "We're closer to yours."
"Mine it is." Placing the last bag in the cart, he pulls it behind him as we make our way through the automatic doors of the grocery store and out towards his car.
With Harry, I've found that we don't need to constantly be in the middle of a conversation.
Instead, it feels like there's a certain kind of peace that lies within the comfortable silence that settles between our souls. Almost as if his was made for mine, as if mine was made for his.
I'd never really felt anything like it— this pull.
Strings tied people together and strings snapped, something that felt like a way of life.
Like an invisible thread, the string between us felt so strong that nothing could sever it.
A dangerous thought.
A dangerous game.
________
This is my favorite place.
As I lay with Harry on the couch, his hands running up and down my spine under my shirt and my head on his chest, it's not even a question.
Both of us ended up here after dinner, turning on a documentary about the Sistine Chapel and curling into one another. Again, the comfortable silence blanketing us like a fresh snowfall.
"What are you doing this weekend?"
The question brings me out of my own mind, peering up to Harry. "Nothing that I know of."
It was true, I didn't have any plans.
Other than trying to figure out how to spend more time with him.
"Do you want to go to the lake? Spend the weekend there with me?" His nails lightly scratch me back. "If you don't want to go that's okay too—"
"I want to go." The words fall from my lips so quickly. "I would love to go with you, Harry."
Pressing his lips into the top of my head, it's impossible not to feel the smile they are pulled into. "Yeah? You wanna go and spend time with me?"
I sit up, my knees pressing into the cushions of the couch on either side of him as I look down.
He could be anyone's.
Literally.
I can't think of a single reason someone wouldn't feel like the luckiest person on the planet if he chose to spend his time with them.
Yet here I am, lucky.
Spending time with him.
Drinking him in.
Even like this, dressed in just a black shirt and green shorts, he's stunning. The lights are out throughout the house, just the recessed lighting above the fireplace bringing a soft glow to the room.
Looking up at me, I take a deep breath as his gaze lingers on my face.
Messy, dark curls lay in a million different directions as I reach up, letting my finger trace across the very edge of his strong jaw.
Every single line and curve of his features remind me of a carved marble statue, one that took years to complete. The perfection hidden within each and every slope and angle is something that would be nothing short of all consuming.
Lips that curve in just the right spot, swooping into the most delicate bow in the middle of his top lip. i can't help but stare at the equally full, perfect bottom lip that rests below it.
I've worked with art for years.
Years.
I've handled some of the most sought after paintings in the world, let my fingers brush across strokes made by some of the most famous painters one could ever dream of.
And yet— nothing compares to the masterpiece before me.
Harry Styles.
"I'll go where you go." I say, the words formed with the truth that sits deep at the bottom of my chest. "I'll go with you to the lake and I'll go with you to the grocery store. Anywhere with you."
A smile so devastating it could knock me over spread wide, his dimple catching the light. "Just us?"
I don't miss the deeper meaning of the small statement.
Two people who fit and who want to live in a world together, happy.
Nodding, there's not time to waste as I lean down and press my lips to his.
In this world with him, I am happy.
With him how could I ever be anything but?
"Yeah, it's just us. In this world— it's just us, Harry."
_________
Just some filler but— 🥲
twitter @ niallsgoldhoop
-Alex
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