"Are there any superstitions about sex?"
Harry's curious tone just barely breaks through the lust-filled haze I had fallen into after my third orgasm. A dank must has filled the air as we lay on my silk sheets completely bare, slick with sweat, and flushed from head to toe after our extra-curricular activities.
I turn my head to meet his eyes, but his gaze is intently focused on the rapid rise and fall of my breasts. Scoffing, I brush away the hair that had stuck to my face after I fell back onto the bed. Unbelievable, we had been in this bed since sunrise when Harry stumbled through my door and began stripping. Yet, he still only has one thing on his mind.
"There are so very many," I laugh and Harry finally meets my eyes, flashing me a wolfish grin when he realizes he had been caught ogling me.
"Any that I should be aware of?"
The smile that tugs at my lips is unconscious, Harry had been more and more curious about my beliefs and less and less weirded out by them. It felt nice to be validated, even if he didn't quite understand where I was coming from.
Ever since the party last week, Harry had spent most of his nights between my thighs and most of his days in my thoughts.
I know that we are on very thin ice; the rules we had established a few nights ago slowly blurring as our affair dragged on, but my lack of concern towards our growing familiarity was beginning to worry me.
He wants to know more about me and I want to let him and that is very dangerous territory. But, I just can't seem to stop myself, not when it comes to him.
Harry turns on his side, the mattress squeaking in protest, and lifts a hand to trace the sharp edge of my collarbone so lightly I almost don't notice it.
Almost.
A shiver runs down my spine as I meet his playful gaze with one of my own, "Well, if you masturbate too often you'll go blind from vanity and pleasure. And... men with more body hair tend to be more passionate and virile than men with less body hair."
Harry's hand stills against the curve of my breast, a devilish smirk on my face as my eyes roam his hairless chest.
Leisurely, my teasing gaze meets his, a surprised gasp leaving my lips when I see how dark his eyes have grown, the bursting flare of bright red in his aura.
Auras of a brilliant red indicate a very sexually charged soul. Passionate and full of energy –these individuals tend to become very competitive in intimate relationships and make for enthusiastic lovers.
"Is that so?" The challenge in his voice is clear and I feel a sharp tugging sensation in my lower stomach at the hunger in his eyes.
He leans over me predatorily, one hand balancing himself on the mattress as his other dances across my ribs, caresses my hips, and takes its time dipping down between my legs.
I bite back a moan, his hungry gaze focusing on the cushion of my lip caught between my teeth as he teases my slickness.
I'm shocked at how instantly my body responds to him -how ready I am to take him inside of me again- even though I've had him all morning. He is relentless in his attention, fingers deft and skilled in their assault of my sex. After all this time, he has learned just what I need to get going, just what drives me crazy.
I am completely at his mercy and I give myself up to him willingly.
"Mhmm," I hum in satisfaction, the sound morphing into a loud moan as the cold rings on his fingers brush against my folds.
"Hairless men are weak lovers?" Goosebumps dot my flesh as Harry's breath caresses my ear, leaning down to brush his lips against my jaw as his practiced fingers tease my sensitive nub, "Well... I've always known superstitions were bullshit."
My fingers dig crescent moons into his shoulders as my hips reflexively jerk to meet his movements. I wrap one leg around his waist and grind him down against me, feeling his erection tease my sensitive flesh.
Gripping his face in my hands, breath heavy and face hot, I brush my lips against his –grin cheeky.
"Prove it then."
The spark that ignites in Harry's emerald gaze makes it clear that he is more than ready to accept the challenge and he leans down to capture my lips between his own. His teeth nip at my lower lip as his thumb rubs circles against me relentlessly.
I bite back a moan as his tongue dips into my mouth, not wanting to give in so easily, but knowing that my resistance is futile.
Because Harry never loses.
I buck against his hand greedily as my teeth tug lightly on the metal ring on his lip and my fingers graze tracks into his back. A groan rumbles deep in Harry's chest and I smile in satisfaction at how he responds to me.
"You're playing dirty, you know?" He mumbles into my mouth before dipping his head down to nibble and suck on the curve of my neck.
My eyes nearly roll back into my head as his tongue teases its way up to my ear.
Dear spirits, give me strength.
"Is there any other way to play?" I breathe, tugging on his hair roughly and reveling in the shiver that runs down his spine.
He grunts into my flesh before reaching down to grip himself, his head teasing my entrance. He starts to push in slowly and I have to restrain myself taking control and picking up the pace. Slowly, he enters me, stretching me deliciously and torturing me with every centimeter that fills me....
There is a knock at the door.
We freeze instantly, my body practically screaming in frustration as Harry pauses just as the head of his manhood passes my entrance. My heart is bruising my ribs as it flutters in my chest and my lungs are working in overdrive from the desire that fills me, the need to have Harry plunging himself inside of me rough and hard.
And Harry really wants to give that to me.
He starts to move again, thrusting deeper inside of me and I swallow a moan, slapping his arm to get him to stop, even though that is the last thing I want him to do.
"Harry-"
"Don't answer it," He commands, lifting his head from my neck so I can see the hunger that clouds his eyes.
I don't know who could be knocking this early, though. There are only three people who ever come to visit me; one is wrapped in my arms now, Niall rarely bothers to knock, and the other...
"Nova, ma cherie. C'est moi!"
"Oh, shit," I whisper harshly, and begin to frantically shove Harry off of me at the sound of my Nan's heavily accented voice.
Talk about my worst nightmare coming true.
Harry pulls out of me suddenly and I let out a harsh curse, but not in a sexual way. In an, oh my god, my Nana is knocking at the door of my parent's house while I am getting thoroughly fucked by a boy that isn't romantically involved with me.
What could I have done recently to warrant this? I did kill a spider that was in my bed yesterday... Could this be karmic retribution for that?
Harry flops onto the bed in frustrated and watches as I begin to dig through my closet for clothes, brows furrowed and chest heaving –still fully erect and looking as if he might drag me back down onto the bed any second.
And I'm afraid I might let him.
"What is it? Who's at the door?"
I find a long black wrap-dress covered in yellow flowers and slip it on hastily before throwing Harry his black jeans and white tee.
"I'm coming, hang on!" I shout loud enough for her to hear before turning towards Harry disappointedly slips on his underwear, "It's my Nan, Harry. I totally forgot we were supposed to go to the farmer's market in the next town over."
Harry doesn't seem to understand my urgency as he slips on his shirt and languidly watches me slip on a leather jacket and boots. I don't bother with makeup or even brush my hair, but I do spray on some rose-scented perfume in the hope that it might mask the smell of sex I no doubt ooze.
Not that it really matters.
Nana will probably be able to sense it anyway, she always has been.
"So... I'll slip out the back." Harry shrugs as if it's no big deal, but I turn on him with a glare, bristling at the gall he has to even suggest such a thing.
"Oh no you won't. You came in through the front door and that's where you'll be leaving from."
Harry rolls his eyes as he slips on his boots, "Oh, not this again."
"Harry," I growl, trying to keep my panic at bay, "You are not putting me through that again, okay? Who knows what kind of bad juju you already cursed me with! I won't put myself on the universe's bad side, even if it might save us some embarrassment."
Finally, I see the panic begin to cloud Harry's expression when he realizes that he can't sneak out like a teenager and that he will have to meet my Nana.
Whether it's because it might blow our secret or because of all the rumors surrounding her, I'm not sure. I hope it's the former for his sake.
"But... What in the world are we supposed to tell her? That she interrupted me plowing you?"
I try not to cringe at his crude language, but am relieved that he is more worried about her finding out about us than he is scared of meeting the enigma of our town.
I certainly don't want her meeting him either, her clairvoyance probably allowing her to read a little too much into our relationship. More than I ever intended anyone to find out. For some reason, the idea of her knowing about our arrangement made guilt twist in my stomach.
But, I'm not going to lie to her. I would never lie to her.
"No, I'll just tell her the truth... That you're my boxing instructor, and we'll leave it at that. She isn't one to ask questions, anyway."
Because she usually knows all the answers anyway.
Harry nods, but I can see him trying to work out how best to get out of meeting her. His head swivels around the room, as if there might be an answer waiting in the peeling white paint, rusted mirror of the vanity, or the sheets we were just wrapped in. Finally, he looks down at himself when the answer alludes him and gestures at his bulging crotch with panic.
"And what am I supposed to do about this?"
I try and fail to hold back a laugh, "Think about your grandma or Donald Trump, I don't know."
Harry pauses, head tilting to the side as his gaze grows unfocused. After a few seconds of silence, he shrugs, nodding slowly, "Yeah, that works."
Once we put ourselves together I lead him downstairs, praying that Nan doesn't use her omnipotence to analyze Harry and me. I didn't even want to analyze Harry and me.
There had been a noticeable shift between us since the party.
Whether it's because we had just grown more comfortable with each other overtime or because we had finally had a conversation that didn't revolve around sex or boxing, I'm not sure. Either way, we have grown less detached and more familiar and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it.
It's almost as if I have stumbled into a minefield and every step I take could have this whole arrangement blowing up in my face. A bloody and lethal mess, no survivors.
The stress of this situation has had me using up nearly all of my sage and growing more paranoid than usual –the superstitions I adhere to becoming more and more ritualistic.
This, coupled with the stress of my father's diagnosis, has me mediating twice as much and carrying double the amount of anti-anxiety stones than usual.
But, nothing seems to placate the feeling in my gut that something is coming.
Something I won't be able to control. And all I crave is control.
Until that comes, though, I take immense pleasure in the things I can control. Like convincing my Nan that Harry is my boxing instructor and not giving her an opportunity to read between the lines.
So, I lead Harry down the stairs and open the front door wide, a calm smile taking over my worried expression.
My Nan's welcoming expression falters a bit when she notices the fidgeting boy beside me, but she focuses her attention on me for now, "Hello, ma cherie. How is your heart, dear?"
I try to see my Nan through Harry's eyes, to see what he sees: a tall and lanky elderly woman with silver strands down to her waist, so much jewelry she would break a metal detector, a frayed dress that just grazes her ankles, and a piercing gaze that is always alert and obscure.
I could see now why he would be afraid to meet her.
She might seem intimidating to those who see her through a filtered lens, but she is the warmest woman I have ever known. And the strong blaze of her sunshine aura is a testament to that fact.
"My heart is warm and strong, Nana," I smile and step aside to reveal more of Harry, deciding to introduce him before she has the chance to ask, "This is Harry... My boxing instructor."
She eyes him up as Harry steps forward and I can see the questions in her gaze, but true to form, she remains silent. Her silver eyes are observant and calculating and Harry squirms under their unwavering watch until visibly relaxing when she holds out a hand for him to shake.
Mortifyingly, he grabs her frail hand in his strong one and brings it up to his mouth, kissing the soft flesh gingerly. It takes everything in me not to slam my palm against my face as I watch Nan try to bite back her amusement, eyes wide in shock.
Harry instantly knows he made the wrong move when he pulls away and sees my gaping mouth, before attaching his gaze to his boots. Nan meets my worried eyes, but her aura doesn't shift colors or vibrate at all. She is as stoic and resolute as always.
But, I know I've been made.
The spirits have granted my Nan (and cursed me) with a sixth sense; seeing right through my bullshit.
"Well, nice to meet you, Harry," She smiles politely and then I see an all-too familiar mischievous spark flash in her eyes, "Would you like to come with us to the market?"
"No!" I shout instantly –too quickly it seems, because Nan's all-knowing grin only grows at my response, "I mean... Harry is probably busy, aren't you, Harry?"
But, Harry looks like he has been caught in between a rock and a hard place and his eyes dart between us in a panic, worry etched into the lines in his face as he rubs the metal in his lip between his fingers.
"I'm actually not..."
My mouth drops in shock as my Nan's slides into a pleased grin, "Perfect! We could always use a helping hand in carrying our haul and since Niall is covering at the shop, you will be a perfect substitute."
Something dark flashes in Harry's emerald eyes at the mention of the Irishman, but my thoughts are focused on something far more pressing. Harry nods vaguely, but my Nan has already turned from the door, leading us towards the bus stop without a word or a glance backward.
Harry seems to be in a state of shock that he somehow got roped into spending his day with the girl he is doing the horizontal bop with and her grandma. I can hardly believe it myself.
"Why-"
"I panicked!" Harry cuts me off with a harsh whisper, causing my Nana to turn and glance at him in alarm and amusement. He childishly gives her a thumbs up, "It was like she was looking right into my soul, okay? I couldn't lie! It was too much pressure, it just came out!"
He does have a point; Nan's gaze does have a certain truth serum to it. She could have you confessing to something you didn't even think you did just by staring you down for less than a minute.
However, the idea of having to spend the whole afternoon keeping up this ruse did have me extremely worried. For more reasons than one.
It was too late to back out now, though.
"So... We're going shopping."
Harr and I make our way down the sidewalk side by side, Nan strolling just a few paces ahead of us. The sky is cast in an explosion of color as the sun rises, casting its warmth on our faces.
The birds sing merrily and the trees whistle gently in the breeze as a familiar weight slowly begins to pull on my shoulders and Chanel No. 5 wafts between Harry and I, signaling the appearance of my overbearing mother.
As if this day could get any worse. I quickly knock on my head three times to spell the intrusive thought away, not wanting to jinx it. Maybe the day will turn around, who knows?
Harry sighs deeply before meeting my gaze with apprehensive eyes, "We're going shopping."
My heart pulls gently at his warm voice and his hand gently brushes against my own as we make our way towards the bus stop in the light of the new day.
____________________________
It quickly becomes clear that Harry is more uncomfortable than he lets on.
The entire bus ride his attention could not focus on one thing; jumping around to the different rider's faces, examining the outside as we putted along, and keeping a watchful gaze on my very entertained Nan.
It probably doesn't help that he is squeezed between the two of us per Nan's request.
He fidgets endlessly as my Nan closes her eyes and lets the bumps along the road sway her body gently -in a deep state of meditation- and I run my clear calcite over my heart to calm my budding nerves.
We probably look insane to anyone on the bus, maybe they even think we had kidnapped Harry.
Which, I guess we sort of did.
The notion of spending the whole day with my Nan and I freaked him out more than he was willing to admit, that much was obvious. And the nervous energy surrounding his aura was starting to rub off on me. His once vibrant rosy aura has begun to flicker slightly, the red fading dramatically.
Those whose aura's experience a weakening are often troubled or deeply stressed. Most maintain their chakra's shade, but the vibrancy can fade severely when experiencing high levels of anxiety or doubt.
"Harry," I whisper, nudging him with my elbow until he finally catches my eye, "Listen, once we get to the farmer's market I can make up some excuse for you to sneak away. Nan-"
He shushes me harshly, eyes darting to my meditating Nan before he leans in close to my face, "No way! She already knows I don't have plans today and I don't want to offend her."
I'm surprised at the level of panic in his emerald eyes, but can barely contain my amusement at the slight fear that clouds his gaze.
Fear.
He's afraid of a 65-year-old hippie.
"Harry, she'll understand," I laugh, making light of the situation and the rumors that surround my enigma of a grandmother that spurs this reaction, "It's not like she is going to curse you if you stand her up. She's not a witch."
My laughter is jovial and good-natured as we pull onto the dirt road leading to the market. My mirth dies in my throat, though, when I turn back toward Harry and see the seriousness in his expression.
The doubt.
Dear spirits, please stop me from taking a life today.
"Harry," I scold like a disappointed teacher, "You know my Nan isn't a... witch... don't you? You know that's ridiculous, right? Witches don't even exist."
I hold my breath to keep my anger at bay, his answer pivotal to the continuation of our arrangement. Harry is silent for longer than I like, his warm breath fans my face and emerald eyes concentrate on my own, as if searching for something.
He seems to find it, though, leaning back into his seat with a sigh and running a frustrated hand through his mussed hair, "Of course I know that... I'm not a child."
But, his response does little to ease my concerns as the bus jolts to a stop and Nana's tired eyes snap open.
"If I was a witch dear, I certainly wouldn't waste my time putting a curse on you," I bite back a laugh as Harry's eyes widen in panic, watching my Nan stand up with a mischievous grin on her lips, "I'd start with my ex-husband, of course."
The doors to the bus open and Nan begins to glide towards them, but Harry seems frozen to his seat, mouth agape and eyes wide, obviously unsure if she was joking or not.
I'm really not sure either.
I stand and conceal my amusement as I lead Harry off the bus and into the masses, my nerves taut and palms sweaty.
The farmer's market comes to the town next door twice a month –the first and last weekend. Nan and I come nearly every time to shop around and browse the antiques and homemade crafts. Every now and then, Nan will rent out a booth and advertise for the shop; reading palms, selling tarot cards, and giving lessons on crystal healing.
Most people amuse themselves at the booth for a few minutes before moving on, disappointed that we don't use crystal balls.
By the shocked expression that crosses Harry's face when the bus pulls away and he takes in the full view before him, I can tell he has never been to one before.
The throngs of families and couples on dates shuffle through the stands and booths that seem to stretch out far beyond our line of sight. Vendors selling jewelry, art, or playing their music for tips stretch out across the paved dirt. There are a few booths full of vibrant flowers and vases, some that display vintage clothing and hats, and one displaying old novels and journals.
All this is punctuated by the eclectic scent of the food trucks off to the side of the field and the enticing aroma of fresh fruit that lines the entrance.
Compared to our little coastal town, this was like stepping into a whole other world. A whole other world where no one knows who you are or really cares.
"I'm going to go find Jasmine's booth... You two go have fun and meet me back here in two hours."
With a wink, my Nan departs to go find her old schoolmate from Spain who occasionally sets up a booth here to sell her homemade soaps, lotions, and perfumes. Harry doesn't even acknowledge her departure, his amazed gaze focused on the many sites before him.
Nerves twist my stomach into a knot as my Nana leaves Harry and I alone, in a public place... Where nobody knows who we are...
This feels a lot like a date. Too much like a date.
Oh, spirits, I might just throw up.
"You still want to ditch?" I ask Harry, hoping that he will say yes and also hoping that he will want to stay.
I should really, really want him to go before we cross a boundary we can never build back up again. We have been teetering on the edge for a while now and I am way too fragile to handle anything more intimate than we already have.
"No way, this place is awesome! I can't believe I had no idea this existed."
The child-like wonder that has Harry's eyes glazing over in amazement fills me with relief and a warmth I haven't felt in a long time. I turn to him with an equally-excited grin, gesturing towards the circus-like scene before us.
"Well, we might as well make the best of it!"
I spend the next hour leading Harry around like a puppy as we stop at nearly every vendor to amuse ourselves with their goods and services, only for him to scurry off to another just as quickly.
Harry insists on smelling nearly every candle we come across and he listens intently to the elderly man that explains just how he does it. I nearly make Harry piss himself with laughter when I try on a fur coat and do my best Devil Wears Prada impression. We pick through old post cards at an antique booth and read the love letters in old-timey accents, trying to match the senders together.
We critique art, banter with each other over the best records, and people watch the couples that stroll by to try and guess their stories and how long they've been together.
The ease with which we communicate and joke around is almost as alarming as it is entertaining. It's easy and familiar to joke around with Harry like this, to spend the day making fools of our selves. The comfort I feel in letting myself go around him is both a relief and a threat.
I can't even remember the last time I had this much fun with someone before. Even Niall has never made me laugh this hard and that simple fact worries me more than I thought it would.
"Can I pull this off?"
I nearly snort with laughter when I turn around and find Harry's unruly hair smashed down by a giant top-hat adorned with a giant, sparkly green pot leaf. He juts out one hip and pouts his lip to add to the effect and I try to control my giggles whilst shaking my head at his foolishness.
This goofiness is something I'm not used to seeing in the cold and stoic, composed and serious Harry I have come to know over the last few months. I can't say I'm disappointed in the layers I am slowly pulling back in Harry's personality.
Harry's grin grows at the sound of my laughter, eyes warm, and he takes the hat off his head and pops it onto my own.
"I think it looks better on you, anyway."
His smile is genuine and eyes kind as he watches me adjust the hat and I duck my head down to hide the warmth in my cheeks. Compliments aren't something I hear often from Harry, as we tend to distance ourselves and hide any affection that is outside of the bedroom.
But, it seems like all the rules were thrown out the window today. A hall pass for any genuine emotion we have wanted to possibly convey. A very dangerous proposition.
"You two make such a cute couple."
The older woman who runs the hat stand sends us a friendly smile and my cheeks burn even brighter at the implication. I don't dare glance at Harry, but the weakening of his aura tells me her accusation stresses him out just as much as it does me.
A Couple is the last thing we want to be. I think. I'm pretty sure.
"We're not-"
"No, that's not-"
We both rush to deny the insinuation, speaking over each other and then stopping to flash our gaze to the other, cutting ourselves off abruptly. Denying it so fast-tediously, only making us sound guilty. The pink in his cheeks make me look away in embarrassment as the woman laughs jovially at how uncomfortable she made us.
"Whatever you say, dearies."
I'm quick to take the hat off my head and place it back on the rack before waving the woman goodbye and leading the way from her booth, not checking to see if Harry follows, needing to get the hell away from that situation as fast as possible.
He follows regardless, neither of us speaking at first, but the silence is so loud it drives me mas and I stop at one of the flower venders and turn about-face, "You see a man and woman walking together and just assume, right?"
He jumps on this excuse, shoulders sagging in relief at the out, "Oh yeah, of course! She would've made that assumption with anyone."
"Right, it didn't mean anything."
He nods, though his gaze doesn't meet mine, "Right."
I turn away, still feeling uncomfortable as I run my hands across the multitudes of roses, tulips, dahlias, and daisies that surround us. The smell is intoxicating and I breath in deeply, letting the scent wash over and calm me.
There was always something about plants that made me relax, it's always been therapeutic for me to care for them, to help them grow. Even my mother tended to our garden meticulously while she was still alive, which explains the re-entrance of her spirit, heavy on my chest.
Harry follows behind me and I feel his gaze on my back, making the hair on my neck bristle. I don't want to address what just happened, nor do I want to think about the implications of this whole day.
"You have a lot of plants at your house." His voice is timid and hopeful, obviously trying to ease the tension between us and forget about the tangible awkwardness from the woman's accusation.
I allow the diversion, turning to him with a gentle smile, "Yeah I love having plants around me, they bring an essence of life to my otherwise empty house."
I silently curse myself for that last part and I can tell he wants to ask about my vacant home, wants to inquire about my personal life, but that is where I draw the line. That is always where I have locked a part of myself away from him, from anyone.
My family, or lack-there-of, is something that will stay locked inside my soul forever.
I pipe up before he can comment on it, my heart in my throat, nodding to the calla lily his hand glides over.
"Beauty and innocence," Harry's head tilts curiously at my statement and I run my own hand over the white velvet of its petals, "Calla lilies symbolize beauty and innocence. That's why you always see them at weddings."
His eyebrows lift in surprise, "Flowers have different meanings?"
"Oh, yeah," A broad grin stretches across his lips at my enthusiasm, "The color of flowers has a lot of meaning too. Like red roses symbolize love, longing, and desire, but white roses stand for spirituality, purity, and sympathy. There's a whole spectrum of messages you can send to someone via the color and variety of a flower."
Harry nods his head in understanding before he looks around and points to a batch of yellow chrysanthemums, testing my knowledge, "What about those?
I try not to read too much into the fact that he pointed those at first, "Yellow chrysanthemums symbolize slighted or rejected love."
He laughs under his breath, but the sound is hollow and I know that he is thinking of his one-sided love for Zoe. But, the fact that he is in love with the doctor who told me to pull the plug on my dad is something I don't want to think about either, so I point at a different flower.
"Orchids symbolize exotic beauty and strong femininity."
The sun's rays peak through the mini garden and I bask in its warmth as my fingers dance along the long, thick stem of the pink flowers. Even stronger than the scent of flowers is my mother's perfume as I feel her ghost settle atop my shoulders, the weight heavy and distracting.
Orchids were always her favorite.
"Which one is your favorite?"
Harry's warm tone pulls my attention away from my somber thoughts and I glance at his curious gaze, letting the simplicity of the moment wash away the memory of my mother.
I stroll towards the batch of sunflowers and smile, "Sunflowers symbolize adoration, loyalty, and longevity. The get their namesake from the sun, of course, so they are supposed to provide one with energy and warmth. Their relatively happy flowers without being obviously pretty. They're underappreciated."
I stick my nose into the center of the flower and breathe in deeply, closing my eyes to relish in the familiar scent, but the sound of a shutter going off has my head popping back up. Harry has his phone pointed in my direction and he quickly goes to put it away, eyes flickering towards the ground, and ears tinting pink at having been caught.
"Did... Did you just take my picture?"
Harry awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, eyes focused on the sunflower in my hand instead of my amused expression, "Yeah... I – sorry... The lighting was perfect and the sunflowers matched the ones on your dress and it looked like a nice picture, but I don't have my camera one me and I didn't know the sound was on, so... Sorry, if that's weird."
The rambling is so unlike him that I take a second to assess his demeanor and the meaning behind his words.
He seems genuinely embarrassed to have been caught taking my photo, but the explanation he tried to give makes it clear to me that he isn't really sorry, not at all. Nor should he be.
"Do you do that a lot?" I ask curiously, never having really talked about our hobbies before, "Take photos I mean... Are you interested in photography?"
Harry finally meets my gaze, the bashfulness fading from his expression once he realizes I'm not angry or uncomfortable. Instead, a spark glints in his eyes and his face splits into an excited grin at my question.
It's odd to see his face so honest and open, so unguarded.
"Oh, yeah. It's just a side hobby and I'm probably not any good, but I enjoy it a lot. I love messing with the aperture and lighting and types of film or even digital editing. It's super fascinating how you can manipulate an image and-" I'm listening intently, but Harry cuts himself off suddenly and shies away from my curious stare, rough exterior back up, "I know it's stupid. I'm just a boxer after all and I'm no good anyway, so-"
"Harry," My tone is harsh, but my words are kind as I lay a comforting hand on his arm, "It's not stupid, not at all. It's obvious that you're passionate about it and enjoy photography, so embrace it, I believe in you. I'm sure you're a wonderful photographer, don't mock something you obviously enjoy doing... I'd love to see your pictures sometime."
I send him an encouraging smile before focusing back on the flowers in front of me, the words of praise just a natural occurrence to me, something second-nature to my character.
But, they seem to surprise Harry because he grips my wrist suddenly and tightly and pulls me back towards him with such great force that I slam into his hard chest.
A surprised gasp escapes my lips when I see the raw emotion in his gaze –the love, the gratitude. Harry uses my shock to his advantage, bending down to capture my lips between his with a gentle caress.
The kiss is short, but full of depth.
His lips soft, but firm in their meaning.
When Harry pulls away I feel like his lips have taken apart of my soul with him and I stand there shocked, heart hammering, looking all around us to see if anyone had noticed.
Harry has never kissed me like that before.
Every time our lips have met it was to convey a promise of something more intimate, to lead to something more. A kiss with a more lustful purpose in mind.
But, this time, there was no promise of sex. He kissed me simply because he wanted to, because he felt like it.
And that fact has the blood pounding in my ears and my mouth tingling from his touch. My eyes are wide in alarm as he pulls away, a warm smile on his full lips and I try to look as unaffected as he does, as cool and collected.
But, I can't deny the painful squeeze of my chest when I realize just how badly I want to pull his lips back down to my own.
I open my mouth to say something –what, I have no idea- but, suddenly, my Nan's presence fills the space between us and bursts whatever bubble had formed around us. She eyes me curiously, no doubt sensing whatever is currently happening to my heart.
"Are you both ready to go?"
I can't seem to get my throat to swallow, let alone form a coherent sentence, but Harry nods in response, glancing at me briefly, eyes unreadable, before leading the way back to the buses.
My Nan holds out her hand, but before I clasp it in my own, I send one last fleeting glance towards those yellow chrysanthemums.
Unrequited love, huh?
Was I really thinking about Harry and Zoe when he pointed those out, or was the universe trying to warn me of a slighted love much closer to home?
I shake those thoughts from my head vigorously, grasping my Nan's hand and letting her lead me towards the bus, towards Harry's retreating form.
A shaky hand travels to my petal-soft lips, still warm from Harry's kiss, and quivering slightly from the force of it.
I had been smooched many times in my life and a good portion of those kisses had been from Harry. So, why did this one feel so different to me? Because it didn't lead to anything more intimate or because of something much deeper than that?
Whatever the reason, that kiss just shifted the tectonic plates of my heart and I know an earthquake is soon to follow.
The question is; do I stay and take cover or do I run as fast and as far away from the impending doom as I can?
__________________
I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME MONTHS AND I AM SO SORRY IF IT ISNT GOOD I AM DRUNK!
I've explained my absence in length on my insta, messages to followers, and Savior, so I won't get into it here, but I am sorry /: I just want to let you know that I still wouldnt expect frequent updates because I just don't have the drive to write this story like I used to. I still love this story, but I am not going to force myself to write something I don't enjoy because it isnt fair to all of you and it's not fair to me. I still plan on updating as often as I can, but please be patient.
Saying all that, it's gonna suck when I say that i'm actually starting a new story (': But, i've literally been working on this new idea since 2013. 2013 PEOPLE OMG. And I finally feel like I have something I can be proud of and I am really excited! It's spy vs. spy and it's called Renegade and it is coming in April, but you can add it to your libraries now!
Please let me know what you think of this chapter and the new cover! Nova's outfit will be on my insta as always!
VOTE + COMMENT