Harry's P.O.V
Hazel and I continue quietly on our walk together. The conversation has stilled, but it's mostly because my brain won't stop yelling at me.
What if this is a terrible idea? I mean I occasionally would hang out there with the guys when we were kids, but for the most part, it's been my own quiet spot; a place I could go to when I needed to be away from the world. It's nothing special, and in fact, with every step forward, I realize how strange she may think I am.
Bollocks, this was rotten idea.
My tight muscles seem to buzz from the rising anxiety in my stomach, and I can tell my shoulders have involuntarily risen.
Great, I probably look like some kind of scarecrow stuck on a post, I sigh to myself, running my hand through my hair as I try to settle my brain.
I peer over at Hazel, wondering if she's caught on to what a nervous twit I am, but she doesn't seem to have a clue. In fact, I think she's a little too happy.
A clear pace ahead, Hazel tugs me forward even though she has absolutely no idea where we are going. I chuckle a little at how adorable she is. I have half the mind to just let her get us lost- Especially if that means I can spend more time with her.
"Hazel," I half laugh. "You've got to stop that."
"Stop what?" she asks, turning her pretty face up at me.
"You're way too excited."
Hazel doesn't reply. Or at least, not with her words. Her face, though, is a clear indication of how she's feeling- her nose scrunches while her eyebrows furrow, and a stillness turns her smile into a slight frown. Her confused, and probably a little bit annoyed, reaction, however, gives me a glimpse into the past. The image of a young, sweet, and yet perturbed Hazel crosses my mind and I can't help but smile. Damn, she's cute.
Wait, stay focused, Harry.
"What?" Hazel asks, echoing my own trailing thoughts.
"It's just.." I run my hand through my hair, trying to tug my mind back into focus. "It just isn't all that interesting." Hazel rolls her eyes coyly at my lame excuse.
"Well you're the one making it a great, big, secret surprise," she calls me out.
Her eyes sparkle with excitement as she lightly bites her lower lip in an absent-minded, yet incredibly seductive smile. God, I hate it when she does that. All I can think about is how badly I crave the sweet sensation of her mouth on mine.
"You could just tell me," she continues as she walks forward, pulling me from my deviously spiraling thoughts.
"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" I grin at her.
"Fine, torment me if you must," Hazel groans and tosses her head back in exasperation causing her blue hat to fall from her head.
"Oh!" she squeals making me crack up once again as she clumsily tries to catch it before it hits the ground. This girl can't seem to handle her own self and it's just about the funniest thing I've ever seen.
"Is not knowing something really all that bad?" I laugh, standing back and admiring how beautiful she looks as she collects herself.
"I hate it," Her head bobs a little as she punches the word hate.
"Well then," I take a step towards her, chuckling at her flirty behavior. "I guess I'll just have to tell you."
"Really?"
"Sure," I stoop down slightly so I'm just a few inches from her. Hazel's cheek flush sending a rush of adrenaline through my veins.
"It was my constant whining wasn't it."
"That," I shrug lightly, smiling at the beautiful girl in front of me, "and the fact that we're here."
Hazel's face changes instantaneously from nervous to annoyed to excited in record time. An embarrassingly loud laugh bursts through my lips at her quick change of expression.
"My frustrations mean nothing to you," she reproaches me.
"I should think they matter quite a bit. Can't have my girl Hazel angry with me now," I smile down at her, but when Hazel stares back at me like a doe eyed puppy, I realize how my words may be construed.
Is she my girl? Hazel nervously coughs, but tries to cover it up with a light chuckle.
I'll take that as a no then.
"Okay.. so.." Hazel waves her hands as she turns around to take in the scene, "where is here, exactly?" I barely hear her over my whizzing thoughts.
"I told you, it really isn't much-" I begin, rubbing the back of my neck nervously. Hazel's eyes finally look up and a small gasps leaves her rosy mouth.
"A treehouse?" Hazel whirls around, having identified my childhood sanctuary.
"I mean I always preferred tree fort," I tease as she rolls her eyes playfully, "but yea. It's a tree house." I reply in a flat tone that fails to hide my nerves as I try to gage her reaction.
"Can we go up?" Hazel asks, answering her own question as she marches forward towards the ladder.
"After you," I chuckle.
Well, here goes nothing.
Hazel's P.O.V
Harry's treehouse is just about the niftiest thing I've seen in ages. Perched high up in a grove of trees, the little wooden house floats above us, its rustic wood blending into the orange foliage.
"When you reach the top of the ladder, be careful," Harry warns from behind me as my hands grip onto the wooden planks nailed to one of the trees.
"What's that?" I call down playfully, "Jump to the right?"
"Hazel, I'm serious."
"So am I!" I yelp back in protest.
"Roses, I think you've fallen over every single time we've been together. For the love of all things holy, do not fall out of this tree!" he playfully yells at me.
I pause my climb at this realization. "Oh good gosh!" I look down at Harry, who stares up at me with a wide grin. "I think you're right!"
"I know I'm right," he boasts, a look of seriousness set on his charming features. Of course, the boy can't help himself, and after a short pause adds, "It's cause I'm easy to fall for, isn't it?"
Harry wiggles his eyebrows, proud of his terrible pun and I can't help but burst out laughing. Of course he's easy to fall for, especially for his sense of humor. I figured that out very quickly on our date the other night. But two can play at that game.
"Oh goodness, I just can't seem to control my swooning!" I wipe my brow playfully before dramatically throwing my arm to the side as I pretend to faint.
"Bloody hell, woman!" Harry's smug grin turns to pure worry making me fall into another fit of laughter. "Would you please be careful!"
"Alright, alright.." I relinquish, still chuckling to myself as I continue to climb up. When I reach the top of the make-shift ladder, I see why Harry warned me. The ladder doesn't really lead you up to the deck, but rather adjacent to it, with a decent sized gap between the tree and the actual landing. With just a little sidewise hop, though, I'm able to land safely and wait for Harry to follow up after me.
"Of course, she leaps off the thing.." Harry complains.
"She, " I point at him, "was blessed with a peppy spirit, not long legs!" I place my hands on my hips as I correct him. Harry lets out another melodic burst of laughter. It sounds like pure happiness.
I turn around to hide the obnoxiously wide grin on my face, and take in the charming little house in front of me. It's a small deck, but the treehouse itself is moderately sized, adorned with a charming red door with the words, "no grls," haphazardly etched into the center.
Laughing, I point to the sign, "I think we may have a problem, and it's more than grammar I'm afraid.?"
"I was seven and I had an annoying sister," Harry scrunches his nose at me, before taking my hand to lead my giggling self inside.
When we walk in, I'm completely in love. The room is a small square, but the pitched ceiling is fairly tall- tall enough that Harry stands more than comfortably as he leans against one of the walls. The room is marvelous though, for along the edge of the far wall are piles and piles of books.
"Books!" I exclaim like an idiot without even thinking.
"Yea, I'm sorry it's a bit of a mess," Harry rubs the back of his neck as he takes in the sight.
"No, it's not," I quickly reply, "It's wonderful!"
And I mean it too. Books of all colors are stacked in different piles underneath a huge window that overlooks the river. An old Persian rug covers the wood floor and over in the corner are a pile of pillows, perfect for cozy reading. There's even a little radio perched on a small table in the opposite corner. I turn to gaze up at Harry who eyes me carefully.
"Is this place all yours?" I ask.
"Yep," Harry offers up nonchalantly. "I told you it isn't anything special.."
"This is the best thing since sliced bread, I tell you that," I reply enthusiastically, forgetting to downplay my heavy New York drawl. Harry lets out a little chuckle.
"It's a nice space I suppose."
"Did you build it yourself?" I ask, walking over and kneeling down to look at his book selection.
"Sort of.." his voice trails. "My father- my birth father" he corrects himself, "built it right before he left." I turn my gaze back to Harry who stares off to the side. "It's all I really have of him."
My heart instantly aches for him as I catch the fleeting look of a crestfallen young boy. I slump slightly where I kneel, desperately trying to think of a way to take that pain away.
"Harry.." my voice trails, unsure of what to say. Harry pushes himself off the wall and crosses the little room towards me.
"Sorry, I don't mean to be a depressing dud," Harry chuckles lightly, nervously wringing his hands as he bends his knees so he is eye level with me.
"Harry," I reply, taking his hands in mine as I stare up into his kind eyes. "You're just about the furthest thing from a dud."
"I read books by myself in a bunch of trees.." he half laughs looking around the room. When he finally faces me, his brows are furrowed and his gaze is fraught with worry.
"Was I not the girl you just found sitting on a cold bridge by herself?" I laugh lightly as I gaze up at my troubled man. He smiles faintly, but I can tell his mind is still elsewhere- drifting away towards the land of self-doubt. An urgent need rises in me like the swell of the ocean, casting aside any fear of rejection. I want him to know how wonderful he is. I need him to know.
"You can resist it all you like," I smile up at him, searching his stormy eyes, "but darling, you're exactly my cup of tea."
Harry's taught jaw relaxes as his eyebrows smooth out, softening his stern gaze. He leans forward slightly, his calloused fingers gently tilting my chin up as his thumb runs along the side of my jaw.
"I could never resist you," Harry whispers in a slow and husky tone. Our eyes lock, and my heart just about leaps out of it's chest as Harry's gentle eyes transform into a deep green, wild with the same passion that I feel for him.
"Then kiss me," I whisper back, not breaking our gaze.
Harry obliges in the most sensual way. He falls to his knees in front of me, dragging me down with him. Our mouths crash onto one another's. My own hands travel daringly up along his firm chest, latching around his neck as I kiss him fervently back.
He kisses me harder, deeper, as I desperately knot my fists around his collar. The urgency in his kiss is an intoxicating sensation of being wanted and needed that I've never felt before. In the drunken ecstasy of our kiss, he begins to fall backwards. His arms sweep around me, pulling me with him as we collapse onto the soft carpet.
My typically chaotic and crazy mind is quieted- stilled. Only one thought, one singular realization occupies my brain; I'll never have enough of this incredible man.
We lay, wrapt in each other's embrace, our kiss slowing, but never breaking. Harry's tongue runs across my lower lip sending tremors up and down my nerves. His kisses are tender and sweet, gentle, but purposeful. I feel as if I've melted into his hands. In this moment, I'm completely and utterly his- and I never want it any other way.
My own smiling from how radiantly happy I feel makes our kissing a tad more difficult. It's no matter though as Harry begins to smile too. Through our small giggles, I place a couple of gentle pecks on his lips quickly before gazing up into his trustworthy eyes.
"I feel so happy when I am with you," I whisper. Harry mouth twists in an adorably crooked grin as his eyes crinkle delightfully. Good gracious, what a handsome man.
I can't contain myself, and before he has time to respond, I place another kiss on his perfect mouth. The kiss is slow and deep, and my body feels like it might implode. Afraid of what I might do if the heat continues to rise, I break our kiss to pepper his jaw and neck with little pecks.
"Heavens," Harry breathes out slowly, his eyes fluttering as he lays beneath me. I giggle lightly as bury my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the warm smell of his spiced aftershave. Harry extends his arm slightly and I'm able to move to his side, comfortably resting my head on his shoulder as our legs remain loosely intertwined.
"Thank you for bringing me here," I reply quietly, tracing small swirls with my fingers on his chest.
"Well jeez, I would have done it sooner if I knew what a hit it'd be," Harry laughs. I smack him lightly on the chest as I smile wildly back up at him.
"I'm serious, Harry," I chuckle.
"I am too!" Harry laughs loudly.
"Good grief," I chide, nestling back into his warm embrace, hiding my smile in his coat. We continue to lay there quietly.
Harry's thumb traces small patterns on the small of my back while I continue to cuddle against him, quietly taking in this moment. Tiny particles of dust hover around us, glittering as they catch the light of the setting sun through the window. The wind gentle raps at the window, reminding me of how warm and safe I feel inside. I feel warm and protected here in Harry's secret treehouse and safe in his perfect arms.
It's magic.
"I think I love this place," I confide.
"Good," Harry replies, "I thought maybe you might need a spot to yourself. You know, one that isn't outside in the cold."
I scrunch my nose at him earning a hearty laugh.
"Well I think my little bridge spot is just fine and dandy."
"True, but I mean really Hazel, you couldn't have come during a warmer season?"
"Oh hush," I laugh back. My eyes once again travel to the stacks of books next to us. "So what are you reading these days?"
"I'm a bit in between books at the moment. But, I always end up going back to Yeats."
"Yeats?" I sit up straight and look over at him. He chuckles in slight surprise at my sudden movement.
"Yea." Harry props himself up on his elbow. "I'm quite interested in poetry. He's my favorite I suppose. Have you heard of him?"
I quickly scramble to grab my satchel, sitting back down next to Harry when I have it in hand. I unlatch my bag, gently taking out the leather bound book.
"Guess, what I've been reading?" I smile down at Harry as I gentle hold out the book of W.B Yeats' poems I'd taken from Grandfather's library.
"No? Really?" Harry sits quickly, his eyes scanning the book excitedly.
"I've only just begun on it. But there are quite a few I liked."
"Which ones?" he asks, running his fingers over the binding.
"Um," I try to remember the name, "There's one where there is the old woman who has to read a book or something and-"
"When You Are Old?" Harry cuts me off, his eyes wide in excitement.
I chuckle lightly, "I think so?" I shrug, I'm terrible with remembering details like that.
"That's one of my favorites," Harry replies quietly. He sifts through the book, landing on the poem. I nestle into him as he reads,
"When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars."
As I listen to his lush voice utter these words, the poem suddenly seems to come alive. Each word has a richer, deeper meaning than what I had read before. The depth of longing in Harry's voice rattles the cage around my heart and the pain and anguish of unrequited love that he connects to brings a lump to my throat.
"It's stunning," I breathe out when he finishes.
"I love his poetry," Harry replies looking down at his hands, "I love poetry."
"What do you love about it?" I ask him quietly, desperately craving to know everything about what he loves and thinks about.
"It's just such a beautifully tremendous thing- to read something set down ages ago, from some far off place you've never been to, from someone you'll never meet, and yet feel like you're finally understood. These poems, these stories," he pauses, looking up at the ceiling, "it's a hand reaching out from the darkness of the past, reaching out and holding yours for a moment. And you feel so validated, knowing that someone else has gone what you've gone through, felt exactly as you have felt. You don't feel so alone anymore."
Harry shrugs nervously, his gaze still not meeting mine as I collect my heart from the floor. His honest and breathtaking explanation is everything I've ever wanted to say, but couldn't.
I move even closer, doing something I probably shouldn't, but I can't help it, I need to be close to him. Lifting my leg slightly, I nervously straddle his waist. Harry looks up at me with a nervous gulp. I gently lower myself onto his lap and take his handsome face into my hands.
"Harry," I whisper as his eyes wildly search mine, "You're the most magnificent human being I've ever met." I
want to tell him I love him, that he feels like a home I've never had, that I'd be lost if I somehow didn't have him. I'm nothing but a chicken though, as reason knocks the tinniest bit of sense into me, reminding me that this all of the emotions are happening too fast. All I have to give are these simple words, and I pray that they are enough.
Harry's hand tucks behind my neck, pulling me into another intoxicatingly slow kiss. Our lips move together in perfect sync like they were made by God himself to be locked together. The faint taste of mint dances on my tongue as his mouth blesses mine with his tender affection.
Harry pushes himself up with his one free hand so he can sit straight up. I can feel him underneath me as my legs wrap around his waist, a sensation that has my breath running ragged. Harry stills suddenly, taking both hands to gently caresses the back of my neck and cradle my face delicately in his hands.
"Hazel," his soulful eyes pour into mine, his mouth pressed into a thin, serious line. "I'm yours."
My body stills into perfect bliss. The sweeping currents that charged through my veins turns into the calmest ocean. My soul is transformed from a wildly beating heart into a light feather that drifts up to heaven. I am the nothingness after the bursting of star, quiet specks of gold dissolving into the atmosphere.
"I'm yours, Harry" I whisper, my eyes locked on his, "I'm yours."
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