"Sorry I'm late." Harry leaned down to kiss me, and I welcomed the kiss with a smile.
"That's alright," I said, watching as he sat across from me. I'd only been seated waiting for about ten minutes. "Productive meeting?"
"Mm," he hummed, already reaching for the bread set down on the table between us. "Looking like we can head in for some writing sessions as soon as next month."
He grinned at me, clearly happy, relieved even, to have figured out his next move.
Which made me happy, too.
"That's great," I said, watching him dig into the bread like he hadn't eaten in days. I knew very well that it had only been a few hours. "Third album stuff? Or are you going to be working on music for someone else?"
Harry shrugged a shoulder, and popped a piece of crust into his mouth. He grinned when he met my eye, still chewing. "Little bit of both, probably. O'course the focus'll be on new material, but I'm not opposed to giving some stuff to different artists if it's not quite right for the album."
It was amazing, really. To see that spark in his eyes again. It wasn't so much that there wasn't a light in his eyes otherwise, because there always was somehow. A passionate spark, a loving spark, a happy spark. But this... this was the creative spark. And I loved that it was not only visible again, but that it made me feel a spark of excitement, too.
After Harry had finished his tour in the middle of last year, we'd spent the next few months leading up to the wedding finishing up the planning. It had been exciting and exhausting all at once, and in many ways, we'd found that we just couldn't wait for the wedding to be over. Because in many ways, we were more excited to just get on with the rest of our lives.
But the wedding had been just as beautiful as I'd always imagined it, and after all that planning, it lasted no more than a day. Less than twelve hours. And we were here now. We were living our life together with rings on our fingers. And we hadn't planned for this part. At least, not down to the last detail. We knew what we wanted in the future, but this first month and a half of marriage—we'd spent it mostly just enjoying ourselves. Our time together. This new dynamic between us where marriage defined our relationship. Defined who we were.
But I could tell Harry was getting antsy. I could tell that he wanted to get back out into the world.
And I would never be the one to stop him. I would always be the one supporting him.
"This is exciting!" I said as he tore another piece of bread from the wedge of it between us.
"I know," he said through his smile. "I can't wait to get started."
We'd been home from our honeymoon for a little over a month, and though everything had changed, in certain ways, it also felt like nothing had now that we were married.
We still lived in the same apartment in New York City.
We still slept on the same sides of the bed.
We still argued over the correct way to load the dishwasher. (Apparently, I didn't align the utensils the way the dishwasher manufacturer intended for them to be aligned in their specified rack. Yeah... cue me rolling my eyes.)
And we still had a lot of sex. (Maybe a bit more now, when one or both of us got particularly turned on by the other using the terms "husband" or "wife".)
But some things had changed considerably over the last couple of months—the last month since we'd been home especially. And I had every intention of talking to Harry about one thing in particular now that we were together for lunch.
If I could stop feeling so nervous about it.
"How are we doing today?" the waitress asked, her smile patient and her eyes on her notepad.
"Very well, thank you," Harry said.
And her eyes went right to his face. Widened.
I sat back in my seat, trying to hide my smile.
"You're—" she broke off.
Harry was trying to suppress his grin, too. "Hello," was all he said.
And I almost laughed out loud. I knew how he loved to tease his fans in moments like this one, and he had this girl practically hyperventilating. His eyes were lit up in a completely different way now as he watched her.
"Oh my God," she muttered, her hand going to her chest, the other coming to rest on our table. She looked at me then. "I thought you looked familiar, but—"
Her eyes went back to Harry as he leaned forward, propped his elbows up on the table and folded his hands together, his lips pressed together in a smirk.
The poor girl gulped. "I—I—what can I get you?"
Her hands were shaking when she lifted them to put her pen to her notepad, and for a moment I remembered what it was like to be in her shoes. Granted, I'd never come face to face with my superstar crush on the job.
But then again, I thought, looking across the table at my husband—I'd come face to face with him a lot more often, in many more intimate ways than most people even dreamed of for themselves.
A rush of disbelief and gratitude raced through me as I looked up at our waitress again, who was still waiting for our orders.
"Mads," Harry said, calling my attention to him once more. He was smirking at me over the top of his menu. "You go ahead."
I lifted my menu, a small smile gracing my own lips. "I'll have the grilled chicken sandwich, please."
Our waitress nodded, her eyes glued to her notepad now. "Uh, fries or a salad for a side?"
"Fries, please."
She scribbled out the rest of my order and barely looked at Harry as she said, "And for you, sir?"
Harry was still smiling in a totally disarming way, and I almost kicked him under the table for making the poor girl so nervous. "I'll have a burger, please."
"How would like that cooked?"
"Medium, please. And I'll have fries as well."
The way she wrote the rest of his order made it seem like she couldn't get away fast enough, and I understood that, too. Sometimes, even to me, he was so overwhelming, I didn't think I'd be able to stand it.
"Thank you," she said quickly, grabbing our menus from us none-too-gently before rushing off towards the kitchen.
Harry was chuckling a moment later.
I tried my best to glare at him, but couldn't help my smile. "You're terrible."
He only laughed harder. "I didn't do anything."
"Except relish the way she was falling over herself instead of trying to put her at ease," I accused, unable to rid myself of my amusement.
Even when he was cruel, it was in the kindest, most adorable way.
He laughed a little louder and hung his head, only because he couldn't deny it.
And that was ridiculously attractive, too.
It was inevitable—me noticing him in a way that was entirely sexual in the midst of an entirely non-sexual situation. We were out to lunch for God's sake. I shouldn't have been thinking about him knocking everything off this table and having his way with me on top of it instead.
But here we were.
It was his fault, though. Because he was wearing one of his soft, cozy sweaters, and his long, strong fingers were decorated with rings. Because his hair had clearly been ruffled about by the cold wind outside, but it looked a lot like it did after I'd raked my fingers through it during sex. Because the lines of his neck were strong, and I knew exactly what it felt like to drag my lips across that soft, warm skin. Because his lips and cheeks were still red with cold, and I wouldn't mind the feeling of my lips on those either.
"Anyway," Harry said, having come up with no defense for himself. "How was your day?"
I tried to shake off the wanting, and leaned forward, my eyes falling to the table as I considered that question. "Uh, well... uneventful. Unless you consider cleaning the bathroom exciting."
Harry was munching on another piece of bread, totally unaware of the turn my thoughts had taken. "Well, that depends. Just how much of your hair was clogging the drain this time?"
I rolled my eyes in response, and Harry laughed again.
He was in a good mood. A really good mood. And once again, I was happy for that meeting he'd had this morning. Happy that he was happy. Excited for what would come out of the writing sessions he had ahead of him now.
And as for me...
Well, the wedding and honeymoon fell just close enough to the start of the new semester that I'd made the decision to take time off so as to enjoy everything and not have to worry about getting back in time for work.
And it had been wonderful so far. It had given me plenty of time with Harry, which I hadn't had for most of last year when he was on tour. And it was a blessing since Mom's accident. Will, Mark, and Emily all had to work, and Jenny was busy with the girls, so it was hard for any of them to be there for Mom. I was able to—even if she didn't necessarily want me there all the time.
But now that her cuts and bruises had healed, now that she was coming to the end of her six weeks with the cast and crutches, she really didn't need me around. She was managing pretty well on her own.
Which left me with not much to do. Which was fine when Harry was around. But now that he wouldn't be? I could already see myself going a little stir-crazy once he got busy.
"Would you like more bread?" a bus boy asked, interrupting my thoughts.
Harry answered before I fully comprehended the question. "No, thank you."
The bus boy removed it, entirely unaffected by who he was speaking to, and Harry grabbed his water glass.
"I ate that whole thing myself," he said as he lifted the glass to his lips, totally amused.
"Why are you so hungry?" I asked with a giggle.
"I have no idea," he said, setting the glass down. "I'm all excited, though."
"I can tell." I watched him, and he watched me for a long moment, both of us smiling gently.
His widened before mine did. "What?"
"You're so cute."
Harry rolled his eyes a bit. "Well, I know that."
"Oh, you do?"
"O'course," he said with a wink, taking another sip of water.
"Well, with that attitude, you're becoming less cute by the moment," I quipped.
He chuckled heartily, and I relished the sound. The way his dimples peeked out. The way his eyes crinkled up. The way the green seemed to glimmer in the slant of winter light through the window. The way his happiness made me feel--like it was Christmas morning and I'd just caught full sight of all the presents under the tree.
"I take it back," I said when he rounded the full force of that smile on me. "You're becoming cuter and cuter by the moment."
He paused for a second, sucking on an ice cube, his eyes going abruptly serious. But his lips went crooked quickly. "Are you flirting with me?"
It was amazing how I could still feel kind of shy around him. But when he looked at me like that, I still couldn't quite believe it. So, a bit of shyness crept in. "Maybe."
I kept my gaze on the table, touching my finger to the condensation on my water glass, but I still felt his stare, and I felt the way it warmed everything about me until I was near fidgeting in my seat.
"Oh, I'm getting some tonight, aren't I?" he asked with a laugh.
I snapped my gaze to him in shock, and glanced quickly around to make sure no one had heard. "Harry!"
He was full on laughing now.
And I was trying not to. "Such an ass," I said with an embarrassed shake of my head.
"You're the one being all..."
"What?" I asked, knowing full well that I was nervous, that I was feeling flirtatious, that I was feeling excited and scared and generally giddy with all of what I still intended to tell him.
"I don't know," he said, looking at me with a furrowed brow like he was trying to figure it out. "You're just... you seem excited somehow."
"I am," I said, breathless now. My chest hurt a bit. "There's, uh... there's something I want to talk to you about."
"Okay," he said, and the second syllable hitched up at the end like he was wary of what it was, but he was definitely curious, too. And still amused by the way this lunch was unfolding. He leaned forward with both elbows on the table again, and laced his fingers together. "I'm all ears."
It was good, I told myself. Good that he'd had a good day. Good that he was feeling so happy.
But suddenly, I didn't want to say it. Not that I thought it would change his mood—if anything, it would only heighten it—but because once I said it, I wouldn't be able to take it back. Once I said it, it would be wrong to go back on my word.
And besides that, we were in public. I'd thought it would be good to be out when we had this conversation, if only to ensure we'd actually focus on talking about it rather than racing right to the bedroom. But now that we were here, now that there were people around and I was sitting across from him and he was waiting for me to start explaining, fear filled me up.
"I, uh... I've been thinking."
Harry nodded, totally serious now.
We hadn't confronted it since that last morning in Italy, when I'd gotten so overcome with emotion, I didn't feel I could go on with the conversation. And Harry hadn't pushed me. He hadn't brought it up again since.
But now, when things were still only tentatively planned in our futures, when most of our time would still be spent together—now felt like the right time. Even if we were barely two months into marriage.
"About having a baby."
Harry's brows shot up, but quickly, he got a handle on his reaction. Still, I could see his excitement in the way his back straightened and his shoulders broadened and the way an eagerness appeared like a different kind of spark in those green eyes.
"About how I want to do it," I said, unable to phrase it any better than that. "I want to have one. Whenever you want to."
He didn't rearrange his features now, and the joy that colored every inch of his face, that took up residence in every inch of his body made me feel guilty for having denied it to him for even this long.
"You—" He cleared his throat, his dimples practically cavernous with the size of his smile, his eyes beaming with light. But I was confused when it all disappeared, when once again, he controlled every muscle into a serious expression. "Are you--are you sure? Cause there's no rush, Mads. I know I said—"
"I want to, Harry," I said as firmly as I could. I let him see the determination in my eyes for a moment before adding, "I've been thinking a lot about it these last few weeks, and... I just don't see any reason to wait."
Harry's expression remained serious as he thought that through. "Your fears weren't unfounded, Mads. And I know that what I said in Italy might have made you feel pressured, but—but you shouldn't. You have good reason to want to take our time, and good reason to be afraid of—"
"But I shouldn't let those fears stop me." He stared at me, his green eyes wide and worried and hopeful. The hope, though, was growing by the moment, matching the swell of it in my chest. I reached for his hand across the table. His was unsurprisingly warm when it clasped mine.
"Look, I—I know we have time," I said slowly, carefully, keeping my voice low but hoping to convey how certain I felt. "But in thinking about all this, I just—I see the point you made last month. We've been together long enough, and work won't be too demanding for either of us in the next year, which could very well change going forward, and—"
With each word, I could feel it growing. I wasn't just saying all of this to appease him, to give him what he wanted. I was saying it because I truly felt it. After my conversation with my mom earlier this month, I was still scared, but I knew that I couldn't let that fear win. I knew that I had to face it sooner or later.
And because I wanted a baby—because I knew Harry wanted a baby—I wanted to face it sooner rather than later.
"And I want this," I said, feeling that desire grow by the moment. "I've wanted it for a long time. Since I was a little girl. But when I met you, I wanted it even more, and now that we're married—I won't let what happened stop me from doing it. I can't."
Harry was smiling gently, but there was still worry in his eyes. "I understand."
Relief filled me up. Relief and a mounting sense of excitement.
"But Mads, it doesn't have to be now." His expression was still serious. The corners of his lips still in a straight line. "If any part of you is still unsure. If you—"
"I didn't take my birth control yesterday," I blurted.
Harry froze, his eyes widening even more.
I almost smiled. I needed him to know how serious I was about this. I needed him to understand that not only did I want it, but I was ready. I needed him to know that my fears weren't going to get the best of me.
"I haven't taken it today either," I said, "and unless you're completely opposed to getting pregnant now, I don't plan on taking it anymore."
He was saved from answering me by the food arriving. Our waitress was cheery when she carried it over, apparently having adjusted to the idea of serving Harry Styles, and I wondered if she noticed how quiet we now were, how serious we'd become, how tense the air felt between us.
And I hoped that tension wasn't the negative kind.
But she walked away after giving us one last smile, and neither of us dug into our food.
I eyed him, knowing he was still processing everything, and tried not to let worry overcome me now. Maybe I should've talked to him about this before stopping my birth control. But that, in particular, felt like my decision, and I wanted the time to process it for myself.
Of course, had he wanted to have sex last night, I would've had to tell him. We hadn't used condoms for quite some time, so I fully intended to have this conversation before we had sex again. I wasn't about to surprise him with the news after the fact. Luckily though, we'd fallen asleep on the couch watching Pride & Prejudice last night, and it gave me the extra time to prepare for this conversation. The extra time to ensure that this was something I absolutely wanted before telling him and getting his hopes up.
But I also stopped taking it in case he did want this... in case he smiled after another few seconds like I hoped he would. That way, we'd be able to start trying as soon as possible.
Because in Italy, he'd been right. And since talking to Mom, since deciding that the only way to overcome my fear was to face it head on, I'd been wondering the same thing he'd asked me that chilly morning—what are we waiting for?
I watched him stare at his burger, his hunger seeming to have disappeared in the last five minutes, and waited, heart thrumming, hoping he would smile.
Harry didn't let me down.
"Okay," he said, his dimples back and eye sparkling full force.
"Okay?" I asked, abruptly near tears.
"Let's do it," he said, the excitement I'd seen for a split second at the start of this conversation returning in even less time, like it was waiting, hoping, just like I was.
I let out a breath that brought the burn of tears to my eyes, and reached for his hand across the table, squeezed it, let myself stare at the man who was always meant to be, and would be the father of my baby—the one we might conceive at any time now going forward.
"Should we get this wrapped up and start now or...?" Harry quipped.
The crackle of excitement in my chest, simmering in my stomach, made me giggle more than I might normally have—and almost made me agree outright.
"Let's eat first," I said, knowing that was the right thing to do. Comforted by my certainty that all of this was the right thing to do. "That way, we'll have lots of energy when we get home."
Harry grinned when I winked, and took such a huge bite of his burger, I was sure he would choke.
But it made me laugh more. In fact, we spent the rest of that meal—which, admittedly, lasted no more than another fifteen minutes (five of them spent waiting for the check)—laughing, staring at each other knowing that we were going to try for a baby. That in a matter of months, we could be parents if all went to plan.
If.
I did my best to chase that word away as Harry posed for a picture with our waitress—her name was Irene—and as we hailed a cab. I felt it creep back in when we were on our way home, when Harry's hand was on my leg and I met his eye to see it filled with hope and happiness that I wanted, needed to make complete. But I shoved the word away when the door to our apartment closed behind us, when I turned to look at him, and it was just us.
Once my coat and scarf were hung up, I turned to find Harry kicking off his boots.
He gave me a knowing smile when I met his eye, and something in my chest fluttered. But it was when he stood up, when that smile turned sort of wicked, that a heat took hold of me.
"Should we pretend like we're not gonna end up in bed before dinner for a little while? Or would you like to jump right in now?" he asked, standing not three feet from me smirking like he knew exactly what I was going to say.
All feelings of fear and nerves dissipated at once, and with a smile of my own, I tossed my bag onto a chair by the door. "Considering I was hoping you'd have your way with me on the table at the restaurant, it'd probably be best to just head straight for the bedroom."
Harry's grin grew, and he was right in front of me in two long steps, grabbing me by the waist with those large, warm hands.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss he pressed to my mouth, bunching his soft sweater between my fingers and pressing my chest to his. He kissed me thoroughly, his hands scrabbling at the thin material of my long-sleeved shirt before finding skin just above the waistline of my jeans.
I gasped.
"Sorry," Harry said with a smile, knowing his fingertips were cold.
I didn't respond, just kissed him again, breathless from the touch of his cold fingers, and the knowledge of where this was headed. What it might lead to.
So, I wrapped my legs around him when he picked me up, continued kissing him as he walked us down the hallway to our bedroom, giggled a little when his lips moved from mine to my throat once we were inside, giddy knowing that we were doing this.
We were going to try.
Harry's arms loosened around me, and I let my legs unravel from his waist so that I slid down his body, and I looked into his eyes as my toes touched the carpeted floor.
He smiled gently, but didn't say anything as he looked at me. Just lifted his hands, curled my hair back behind my ears, and tilted my lips up to his again.
This kiss was slower, and after a moment, his hands went from cradling my face to the bottom of my shirt. Goosebumps came to life on my skin when he pulled it over my head, the warmth in the room not enough to keep them at bay when the touch of his fingers was involved.
I lifted his shirt up and over his head next, and he unhooked my bra. We smiled at each other when we were both bare from the hips up, and then each went about removing our own pants.
I hadn't been nervous about sex with him in a long, long time. So, the incessant flutters of anticipation in my stomach made me remember a time when all of this was cause for nerves in and of itself. The removal of clothes in front of him, the feelings of exposure, of vulnerability, of hoping that vulnerability would be met with patience and kindness and love (it always was), and the anticipation in knowing what was about to happen.
Most of those nerves were gone now. Because when we'd first started having sex all those years ago—when we'd reconnected after the break years later—it felt like a gift. A delectable dessert before dinner. It felt like something rare and important and beautiful. It felt like a current of electricity was zooming through me each second leading up to the final moment of connection, and I never wanted to lose it.
Now, I knew that I never would, and that electricity was quieter—like my body was accustomed to the feeling—but no less powerful, and we knew each other so intimately, making love had become something satisfying, like eating delicious food or drinking water. Necessary, part of our lives together, and always, always sating some deep-seated need. And now, I didn't feel so much like I was going to shatter when he inevitably sent me over the edge, or like the pleasure was too much, too beautiful to stand.
No. Now, I felt like nothing at all could break me when he was inside me.
Nonetheless, different kinds of nerves were present when Harry's fingers touched my cheeks again, moved towards my hair to cradle my face once more. I looked into his eyes, knowing what he was thinking, what he was asking, and grabbed onto his forearms—smiled up at him.
In his eyes, my nerves were reflected back, but his lips tilted up, too, and without another word, he kissed me again.
The backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed, and one of Harry's hands came to the small of my back to guide me slowly down until I was lying on my back, watching him crawl over me.
I used my elbows to pull myself more towards the middle of the bed, my eyes on his green ones all the while, a heat spreading in my lower stomach when I noted the desire in his stare.
Part of me wanted him now, fast, hard. She was desperate for that feeling of fullness, that animalistic satisfaction to her lust.
But a bigger part of me was quaking for something else entirely. And when Harry settled between my legs, when I felt him, rock solid, resting against my lower stomach, when he kissed me softly, gently, his lips only just barely brushing mine—that part of me whimpered.
She wanted it slow. She wanted it careful. She wanted it deep and no less passionate than it would be if it were fast and hard.
Harry pulled away from the kiss, and his eyes roamed over my face where he hovered close enough that his breath still fanned warm on my mouth. His fingers moved to my temple, and his eyes followed their movement as he gently brushed the spot at my hairline.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked quietly, his eyes coming back to mine.
The worry in them made something clench in my chest.
This was big. But it was a direction we both wanted to head in. A direction we'd both talked about, and dreamed about, and promised we'd head for when we got married.
But was it too soon? Should we wait a little longer? Should we think this through a little more? What if it didn't go the way we wanted it to? What if it happened again?
What if I lost another one?
I touched his face, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt when I asked, "Are you?"
"No," he said with a laugh, and my heart sunk. "I mean... I'm sure I want this, and I'm sure that I want to do it now if you do, but that doesn't mean we're ready. Or that we ever really could be."
He was smiling at me until he noted the expression on my face, which I'm sure was just as fearful as I now felt.
"No, I—I didn't meant to make you doubt it, Mads," Harry said, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. "Damn it," he muttered, and I waited for him to reassure me. I knew he would. "I—I just mean... I don't think anyone's ever really ready, y'know? I mean, they can say they are, or think they are, but this is a big deal, isn't it? It's a baby we're talking about. And we're in a better position to take care of one than most people, but that doesn't mean it won't be hard."
His fears weren't what mine were in that moment. He wasn't thinking about the potential of this ending in miscarriage.
He was thinking about what would happen if I we actually ended up with a baby in nine months time.
And somehow... that reassured me completely. Because having a baby with him—my heart was so full at the thought, each beat hurt like an ache—it was well worth the risk that it might end in tears again.
Because at least I'd have him. At least this time, I wouldn't be alone.
I lifted my hand to his face and smiled. He kissed my palm, his scruffy chin scraping against my skin. His green eyes stayed on mine as a smile lifted his cheeks, too.
"What?"
"Harry... I want to have your baby," I said, and watched his eyes light up as he stared down at me. My heart was pounding. "You have no idea how badly I want to have your baby, Harry," I whispered, and I reached down between us, wrapped my hand around him, and felt his muscles clench on top of me, watched his mouth pop open—his deep pink, wet lips fell into a small "oh."
"I know it won't be easy," I whispered, lifting my head to kiss his collar bone—the first thing I could reach. His breath was coming faster as I moved my hand over him, as my lips lingered on his skin. "But there's no one I'd rather face it with. No one I'd rather share it with."
I let my head fall to the bed again and stared into his eyes, tried not to let my emotions bring the suggestion of tears I was feeling to the surface. "So, yes. I'm sure. If you are."
Harry stared into my eyes, all signs of nerves, of worry, gone from his. And as a smile grew on his lips, I knew he wasn't going to answer with words.
He kissed me, and before I could enjoy the rush of excitement—we were doing this, this was happening—he was inside me.
And it was like he knew what I was thinking not five minutes ago, because he waited a moment when he filled me, took his time kissing me instead. He moved slowly when he did start moving—slowly enough that I could savor every sensation, the friction of his body on mine, how deep he was with every thrust, how carefully he moved, the slow, but steady build of swirling feeling, of heat, of the promise of completion.
It was all so familiar. His breath warm on my skin, the weight of his body on mine, the rhythm with which we moved together... It was all familiar, but also profoundly different. Because for the first time, we weren't just having sex or making love—we were trying to make something out of that love.
And it made the whole experience feel different. Special in a way it never had been before.
Harry grunted when his hips bucked into me, and I felt a rush of heat inside. It was always hot, feeling him spill inside me. But this—this was different, too.
And when Harry pulled back to look into my eyes, not disconnecting us yet, I could tell he felt it, too. He studied my face in a way he never had. Searched my expression, his lips still parted. Panting.
And after the initial shock wore off, I smiled, breathless. Kissed him. Hoped to reassure him. Because there was no guarantee I was automatically pregnant now that we'd had unprotected sex. But now that we'd done this once, it would be even easier to do it again.
Sex with Harry had always been beautiful. It had always been passionate and loving, even when it was hard and fast. But now it meant something it never had before, and when he rolled onto his side, held his arm out so that I could curl up against him, feeling that familiar wetness between my legs, I was entirely aware of what might happen.
What could be happening inside my body right now.
And as his lips touched my hair, I tried to temper the abruptly overwhelming hope that it was.
___
Author's Note:
A little afternoon delight on a Friday never hurt nobody ;)
It was reeeeally fun imagining how it might feel to make the decision to try for a baby with this one, and the extent of my baby fever at this point knows no bounds. Just in case you wanted to know lol.
Stupid hormones.
SOOOO. How'd we like this one?? I hope you did. Vote and comment if you feel so inclined. I know I've been terrible at responding these days, but I'll get there! I should have some time this weekend in fact. As always, it would be lovely to hear from you!
For those of you who haven't read yet, I finished my second story on Radish this week! It's called Crossing Boundaries, and it's the sequel to Somewhere in the Middle, which is posted in its entirety here on Wattpad. So if you're looking for something new to read, it would be awesome if you checked it out! And don't forget that my newest book "Trace the Edges" will be released on January 2nd on Amazon!!! You can preorder it now, if you'd like. The link is on my page :)
ALSO!!!! (I feel like I haven't done this in a while, but it's more than worth noting...) OUT OF THE ORDINARY HAS OVER 350K READS AND A LOVE LIKE OURS JUST BROKE 200K.
THANK YOU SO FREAKIN MUCH!!!! Honestly, the amount of love you guys have shown me for these stories is insane, and I hope you know, I NEVER take it for granted. More and more of my dreams are coming true every day because of you guys, and I couldn't ever express how grateful I am, but it's well worth trying. Thank you to each and every one of you--if you've been reading right along from the beginning, or if you're just catching up now--it means SO much to me!
Love you babes so much, and I hope you have an amazing next couple of weeks. And happy holidays to all those who are celebrating anything between now and my next post!! I hope they're happy, healthy, and filled with all the love in the world. xx