My first response to Harry's kiss is to pull away.
But so many thoughts flood my mind--the way he looked at me, how he's letting me stay here, how I even admitted to myself that I have fallen for him.
And I remember I'm not dating Aaron anymore--hell, Aaron's the reason I'm here, instead of across the hall.
So I let go of Regular Rose, who is bitching at me in my mind, and I wrap my arms around Harry's neck.
And I let myself go, much like Harry let Violet go moments before.
I let him lift me, and set me gently on my back on his bed as he presses soft kisses down my neck. I let myself twirl my fingers in his soft hair, running my fingertips through the delicate curls. I let myself giggle when he nips at my earlobe, and he laughs too. I let myself shiver when he bites down gently on the skin of my neck. I let myself flutter my eyes shut when his lips find mine again, his tongue slipping delicately into my mouth. I let my heart beat rapidly, overwhelmed by Harry and his intoxicating kiss.
Regular Rose is dead and gone.
When we finally pull away, Harry's blazing eyes still bore into me as he rests his forehead against mine. I shut my eyes, breathing him in.
"I don't know why I did that," he finally says, his voice huskier than normal.
I open my eyes again, looking up at him. "I don't mind."
He smiles a bit. "I came in here to tell you I was done with dinner, actually."
This causes me to laugh, which makes him laugh, too. He pushes himself off of me, offering me his hand to help me up off the bed.
I can't help but compare this kiss to our first, outside the casino-like place where he took me to play poker with his friends. I had pushed him away then, with thoughts of Aaron in my mind. After that, he had distanced himself from me more--but now, he's smiling at me like we've been friends for years.
I wonder if he'll speak of this kiss again, like he never did the other one.
I follow Harry into the living room where he hands me a plate of food--chicken, to be exact.
We sit on the couch, our thighs almost touching, as Harry flips through the channels on the TV.
Yet again, the air has changed between us. Maybe there was sexual tension about beforehand, and the kiss we shared cleared up some of that.
"All the shows on are shitty," Harry criticizes.
"Just pick one," I groan.
"Fine. Next channel, I will."
He flips the channel again and it lands on a rerun of the Office.
"Oh my God!" We both shout.
We look at each other, then laugh.
"Let me guess," Harry says. "Your favorite show is the Office."
"It is," I say smirking. "And let me guess: it's your favorite too."
"Right you are, Rosalie."
Harry and I seem to be similar in such odd, wonderful ways.
"I've seen this one," we both say simultaneously and laugh again.
"Alright, we've got to stop that," I say.
"Agreed."
We finish eating and just sit and watch the show, laughing and commenting every so often.
I look over at Harry, the light of the TV reflecting in his eyes. His lips are upturned in a small smirk as he watches the show, his dimples only slightly showing.
I want to kiss him again.
Just as I'm thinking this, he turns his head and looks down at me, our eyes locking. He swallows, blinking lazily as I smile up at him, and he smiles back.
This is the same boy that I told myself I hated for so much time, the boy who taunted and insulted me at every chance he got. The boy that greeted me by telling me to keep the noise level down, when I'm sure our other neighbors would have liked to tell us the same thing, with all our constant arguing and shouting at each other.
"Rose."
Harry's rough voice snaps me out of my train of thought.
"Hmm?"
"I never noticed what lovely eyes you have." His own emerald eyes search mine, a small smile on his lips.
"They're not lovely," I scoff, sitting up slightly. "They're the color of dog shit."
Harry laughs. "No, I believe dog shit is a bit darker."
"That depends on the type of dog shit."
Harry smirks. "Well, no matter what type it is, your eyes are the most beautiful color of dog shit brown I've ever seen."
I laugh. "I'm flattered."
I turn my attention back to the show after that, sighing and leaning on Harry's shoulder. We watch the characters on the screen, and I laugh constantly.
Harry always looks down at me when I do, laughing, too. It's like my laugh triggers his, and vice versa.
After awhile, my eyelids get heavy, and I find myself falling asleep on Harry for the third time now. I desperately try to keep my eyes open, but the events of the day are catching up to me, and I fail.
Harry notices my battle with consciousness. "Hey," he says softly. "Do you want me to go get you some blankets, now?"
I shake my head, not moving off of him. "No," I say, not wanting him to leave.
"Rose, you're falling sleep." He begins to shift underneath me, but I grab onto his shirt.
"No," I say again.
I'm enjoying this too much--being so close to him.
"Rosalie Knight," he says, his tone mock-authorizing. "You get to bed this instant."
He sounds so much like my mother that I laugh, and he takes this opportunity to slip from under me, a triumphant grin on his face.
"That wasn't fair," I pout.
"I'll get you the blankets," he singsongs, disappearing down the hall.
During this time, I sleepily change into my pajamas in the bathroom, brushing my teeth as well.
When I emerge, blankets are set in neatly on the couch. I notice one of Harry's pillows there, too, and internally rejoice at the fact I'll be smelling the scent of spearmint and cologne all night.
I slip into bed, turning out the lamp. Harry leans against the wall connecting the hallway to the living room.
"Sleep well, Rosie," he says.
"You too."
He smiles at me again before disappearing into his room.
-
"There you are, Rosie."
Aaron steps toward me evilly, his eyes flashing. He grabs my wrist like before, his grip even tighter.
"You're hurting me," I say, struggling to slip from his grasp.
There's a crowd of people behind him, and I'm backed against the wall. We're in a ballroom of some short, and some special event is happening. Everyone is dressed nicely in cocktail attire, sparkling gems around the women's necks and expensive cuff links on the men. All the people passing by have no faces, they just trudge by like clones of some sort. I yell out for someone to help me, anyone, but the faceless beings walk by without acknowledging me.
"Help!" I cry again, but Aaron clamps his hand over my mouth.
Behind him, I suddenly see green eyes, and Harry appears in the crowd. He sees me, and I call for him, his eyes widening at Aaron in front of me.
He begins to move toward me, but he's moving in slow motion, and Aaron's moving in fast motion.
When I look back at Aaron, he's not Aaron any more.
Jason leans down to suck harshly on my neck.
"Shh, Rosie," he coos in my ear. "It's just me."
I scream, calling Harry's name again and again, but the faceless people block him. He tries to push through them, urgency on his face, but it's no use. The crowd is too thick.
"You're going to pay for what you know, Rosie."
The face is no linger Jason's.
It's Alec's.
He stands before me, scars glinting in the light as his grip tightens and tightens, purple bruising popping up on my wrist.
"I know what you know," he sneers. "And you're going to pay. Both of you."
"Both of who?" I ask, although I don't know why I'm talking at all.
"You and Harry," he says. "I know what he's told you. And I'm not happy."
Fear slices through me as Alec slides a silver pistol from inside his suit turning and aiming it at Harry, who doesn't seem to see the bullet fly from the barrel of the gun, straight towards him.
"Harry!" I shout one last time.
-
"Rose? Rose!"
A light flicks on and I sit up in bed, my breathing ragged. I'm drenched in cold sweat, my hair plastered to my neck as my heart beats wildly in my chest.
Harry sits on the couch at my feet, his hands finding mine as I try to calm myself. He wears a white T-shirt and dark gray sweatpants, his curls slightly messy from sleep.
Nightmare. It was only a nightmare, it wasn't real.
"Rose," he breaths as I wrap my arms around my neck, still fighting to get visions of the dream from my sight. He pulls me to him, holding me tight as my breathing stabilizes.
"You scared me," he says in my ear. "You kept shouting my name, I thought someone had broken in or something."
"I..." I pull away, wiping the sheen of sweat from my forehead. "You were...I was...Aaron..."
"Aaron? Aaron what?"
I proceed in telling Harry my dream--the faceless people, the person in front of me morphing into three people I fear most, the way he couldn't get to me in time.
When I finish I'm fighting back tears.
"Rose," Harry says again, pulling me back into an embrace. "Rose, Rose."
"It felt so...so real," I say, my voice cracking at the end.
His soft hands rub circles on my back until my breathing is normal. I pull away from him, looking over at the clock on the DVR.
"It's two in the morning," I groan.
"Come on." Harry stands up.
I look at him confusedly.
"Lay with me tonight," he clarifies.
I shake my head. "I'll be fine," I say shakily.
Harry rolls his eyes.
A second later, I'm hoisted off the couch, thrown over Harry's shoulder as he carries me to his room. I squeal as the blood rushes to my head, my head only a few feet above the ground.
He sets me down in his bed, then walks around to the opposite side and slides in with me.
Our legs tangle together and he pulls me to him, my face burying into his neck.
"You're safe with me," he says softly, his fingers gently combing through my hair.
"I know I am."
And I do. I feel safer with Harry than I ever have with anyone else. He holds me so securely, so comfortingly that I find myself thinking about Violet.
The girl that gave him up.
And as I fall asleep in Harry's arms, I'm drowned with envy of the girl that received Harry's love, and sadness of the fact that I will never.