Harry hummed as his fingers trailed up and down Annabelle's legs. He laid on his side, his elbow on the pillow to support his head and Annabelle laid on her back beside him. She listened to him quietly sing in her ear, chills on her legs where his fingertips touched.
"I wish you'd never have to leave." Harry whispered, his eyes staring at this lovely bundle of sunshine in front of him. She looked at the clock, seeing that she only had an hour until she had to work. She reach up to push his curls behind his ear and kiss his jaw. He leaned down to kiss her lips, but she wouldn't let him, because she hadn't gotten out of bed to brush her teeth yet.
When she stood up beside the bed, Harry reach over and pulled her back down and tucked her close to his chest. He had a goofy grin on his lips as he peppered kisses all over her face. She groaned, despite the smile that had taken over her face, and pushed him away to run to the bathroom.
Annabelle took a shower, taking her time to let the steam clear her head and the hot water cleanse her skin. After stepping out of the shower only to realize she had left her clothes in Harry's room, she wrapped the towel around her body, tucking it at her chest. She kept her arm around the top of the towel when she exited the hot room, feeling as if she'd been hit the face with cold air. Shivers ran up her legs as she entered Harry's room and walked quickly to his drawers. She opened the top drawer, pulling her underwear and bra out, tossing it on the bed.
"Wow," Annabelle's head turned to see Harry standing in the doorway. He looked at her in awe, realizing how much he loved these little moments that probably wouldn't mean anything to any normal guy. Seeing Annabelle running around in her towel with her wet and tangled hair all over the place as she dug out her clothes from his drawer made him wish she could always be here with him.
Annabelle turned back around to find the rest of her outfit for the day, pulling out her black jeans and work shirt. She grabbed all of her clothes in one hand, walking past Harry and into the bathroom. She slid her underwear on and lifted up her shirt, not being able to find her bra. She looked around the floor to see if she dropped it and heard a knock on the door. She hid her naked body behind the white door as she opened it.
"You dropped this." Harry held up his hand, dangling her navy blue bra from its strap by his finger. She wanted to smack the smirk off of his lips as she hesitantly reach out to grab it from him, then quickly pulled her arm inside and shut the door.
"Don't leaaave," Harry whined as he hugged her from behind, snuggling his nose closer to her neck. She turned around in his arms and stood on her tiptoes, slightly puckering her lips. Harry puckered his as well, leaning closer, but pulled away when she leaned in further. She let out a breath from her nose as she crinkled it, slapping at his chest. He grinned as he caught her lips in his for a real kiss, trying to make it last as long as possible. He did the same thing when he stopped his car in front of the flower shoppe, keeping her lips captive on his so she couldn't leave him just yet. When she finally broke the kiss, she gave him a small smile and kissed his chin, then exited the car.
Annabelle only had to work five hours today, but five hours without Annabelle felt like an eternity to Harry. He found himself sitting alone on the couch with his guitar and Annabelle's notebook, writing a song about how love struck he became with her. He filled two pages with scribbles of lyrics, some of them being scratched out and some of them being underlined, as if they were some of the most important and meaningful lyrics he could ever think of.
When the clock hit three-thirty, he was already in his car and on his way to pick up his girlfriend from work. She got off work at four, and he was there five minutes early. He stepped inside of the door, making a small bell chime above him.
"Who is this looker?" Marie, the older woman Annabelle worked with, joked, nudging Annabelle's side with her elbow. Annabelle grinned at the ground, peeking up to see Harry's tall frame in front of the counter.
"I could say the same to you," Harry leaned over the counter and winked at Marie. Even though she were in her late fifties, she still blushed and giggled, pushing Harry's shoulder slightly. Annabelle walked around the counter after putting all of the money she made in the cash register. People often came into the store just to buy one of Annabelle's bouquets, telling her to keep up the fine work.
Harry put his arm over Annabelle's shoulder as Marie held a conversation with him, both of them discussing how they grew up in Chesire. Annabelle was focused on two people that stood in the middle of an aisle near them, trying to whisper, but failing tremendously.
"She's the one who doesn't speak." One of the women pointed at Annabelle, trying to be sneaky.
"Is she mute?" The other one asked, turning to look at Annabelle.
"I hear she's just messed up in the head," the woman used her finger to make swirls in the air near her head, "If you know what I mean." Both women snickered.
"Excuse me," Harry's voice almost boomed as he looked over at the cackling women. "Please don't talk about my girlfriend that way. Thank you." Harry then returned to his conversation with Marie, pulling Annabelle closer to him.
A few moments later, the women approached the counter with two sets of flowers, asking Marie who made such wonderful bouquets.
"Did you make these, Marie?" The brown-haired lady asked in awe. Marie shook her head and pointed to Annabelle with a sly grin. Annabelle gave them a soft smile, raising her eyebrows.
"Well," the lady sighed, turning back around and paying for the set of flowers.
"Miss," Harry followed the women outside, leaving Annabelle in the shoppe with Marie. "How do you know about Annabelle?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest.
"It's a small town, boy, word gets around quick." The second lady stood silently behind the woman with brown hair.
"What word? Where did you hear it from?" Harry looked at the woman's shirt, seeing a small name tag that said Leigh, a small symbol of the local bank above it. "You work with Julie." Harry stated, looking back up at the woman.
"You know Julie? Oh, isn't she great?" Leigh smiled, putting her hands on her hips. Harry figured this lady were just as bad as Julie, if she liked her so much.
"Right, so does Julie just talk about Annabelle behind her back all of the time?" Then Harry heard a bell and turned around to see Annabelle standing behind him, a small frown on her face.
"Not that it's any of your business, but she's mentioned a few things here and there." The ladies hid their obnoxious giggles behind their hands.
Harry huffed and reach behind him to grab Annabelle's hand, pulling her away from the ladies and towards his car. He stopped walking and she put her hand on the handle of the passenger door, but was stopped by Harry turning her body around and pressing her back against the shiny black metal. His lips found hers immediately, both of them sighing into the kiss and feeling all stress and worry leave their bodies.
Harry's right hand supported him as it pressed against the car above Annabelle's head, his other hand on her hip. Her hands gently moved up and down his chest as their lips worked against each other, both of them losing breath with each passing second. They ended up breaking this kiss at the same time and slowly opening their eyes to look at each other. They took their time, their eyes roaming from their red lips to their noses, eyes, cheeks, foreheads, and every little mark on their faces. Harry found Annabelle's many freckles so cute, and Annabelle found Harry's stubble adorable. She loved how he couldn't really grow a beard, so he always shaved, but sometimes letting stubble take over his chin.
Harry kissed Annabelle one more time before backing up to let her get in the car. The drive back to Harry's house was silent, the radio wasn't even on, but they didn't mind. They enjoyed the peace and quiet, taking the time to hold hands and steal kisses at stoplights. Harry rambled on about how he wrote a song today, admitting that he writes songs pretty often. He said that he has a small journal that he likes to use to write lyrics or important moments in his life, and Annabelle felt so excited to think that she were important enough to Harry to know about his secret journal.
When they stepped inside his cold apartment, Annabelle ran into his room to grab one of her sweaters, but he insisted that she wear one of his, because it is bigger and cozier, and will help her stay warm.
"Plus it will make me happy seeing you in my clothes." Harry pressed his lips to her temple, handing her a brown-checked sweater and leaving her to get changed. She wore a pair of leggings with his sweater, only because his long shirt covered the curve of her butt so he couldn't make another cheeky remark about her ass in tight pants.
Annabelle wanted to cook dinner for once, but Harry whined about wanting to just cuddle with her all night. He begged for her to just let him order a pizza so they could watch a movie or talk while being in each other's arms, and after he started pouting and whining like a baby, she agreed and went to sit on the couch with him. He pulled her close, flipping the channel on the television to Nickelodeon so they could watch SpongeBob.
How many songs have you written?
Annabelle handed the notebook to Harry, and he read it with his head leaned against her shoulder as she sat with her legs across his lap, her bottom almost on his lap. Harry shrugged, looking up at her through his eyelashes and batting them.
Can I hear one? Or two? Or maybe all of them?
Harry giggled at her, nodding and walking into his room to get his journal and guitar. Annabelle muted the television and pulled her knees up to her chest as Harry sat in the floor in front of her with his guitar in his lap.
"I have a lot in here. I don't know which one to play," Harry began flipping through the brown, dusty journal. "Do you want to pick one?" He handed the book to Annabelle when she eagerly nodded.
Her eyes scanned the words on the tan pages, seeing a few pages were journal entries and a few were song titles. She finally picked one, showing Harry the page.
"Annabelle, this is the worst one," Harry groaned. "I wrote it like four years ago, it's so bad..." He laughed and sat the journal down.
"But since you picked it, I guess I have to sing it to you. Keep in mind, it was about a girl I dated for two months in high school. I thought I was so in love with her." Harry shook his head at the memories of a little Harry with poofy curls, bringing flowers to his girlfriend at school on Valentine's Day.
His fingers strummed the chords and his lips shaped into beautiful o's as he sang the very cheesy lyrics about how perfect this girl was, and how he knew she were the one after only two months of dating. Annabelle thought it were so adorable, imagining a small Harry trying to impress a girl with a poorly written song.
Annabelle's small claps and laughter filled the room when the song finished. Harry teasingly told her to shut up, and she laughed a bit more. Harry handed her the guitar and journal when a knock came from the door, signaling the pizza man were here. Annabelle's fingers played with the strings, making a few chords and picking at them. She hadn't played guitar in ages, and she never really got too good at it, but she knew most of the chords and how to keep a steady rhythm.
"I didn't know you could play," Harry sat the pizza box on the coffee table. Annabelle shook her head and handed Harry the large instrument. He held it as if it weighed nothing in his one hand, setting it gently against the wall as they ate.
"What else can you do?" Harry took another piece of pizza from the box.
Piano, and I used to sing, but you know...
"Why haven't you told me, yet? I have a keyboard, will you play it, pleaaase?" Annabelle shook her head, wiping her mouth with a paper towel. Harry crossed his arms and leaned back, giving her a mean look.
"I played my worst song for you, you could at least show me a few chords on the piano, yeah?"
So Harry sat the keyboard in the floor and turned it on, making her sit beside him and show him the basic chords. His long fingers were perfect for playing the piano, and Annabelle loved watching his fingers fumble over the white keys as he figured out how to make them sound pretty together.
"Ew," Harry laughed when he played the wrong key, making the chord sound like an odd growl. Annabelle fixed his hand, and he decided to give up and ask her to play something.
Do you know any Ed Sheeran?
"All of them." Harry sat behind Annabelle with his legs crossed and his chin on her shoulder. "Play one and I'll sing." Harry kissed the base of her neck.
She began playing Lego House and he followed right along, hitting every note beautifully, even giving Annabelle chills. Harry's arms wrapped around her stomach as he sang the words to her, watching her fingers dart from the white keys to the black ones and her head lean to the side when she had to stretch her fingers in an uncomfortable position to play a chord.
"I will love you better now," Harry's voice ended the song and his lips touched Annabelle's cheek in a soft kiss, letting her know he was singing to her and only her.