"Oh yeah that's awful" he mused, giving me a somewhat playful glance from where he was sitting against the headboard.
I looked down to escape his glance, my hands over my crossed legs. Because of how we were sitting, my knees were grazing his thigh, not close enough to touch it, but close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I should continue my drawing" I breathed, a faint defeat in my voice as I took the paper from where I'd left it lying next to me when Harry had first spoken. I pushed myself harder against the wall to create some distance between us, looking down to avoid his gaze that I was so sure he was trying to make eye contact with.
He moved forward and lay down as he'd done the day before, staring at the ceiling as the sound of scratching on paper resumed.
I spied him between my eyelashes, biting my lower lip to keep a smile from showing on my face. I shook my head, trying to keep any distracting thoughts out of my mind. I could've thought about what had happened later when I was alone, because I knew that if I'd done it while he was still around, my brain would've turned to mush and my judgement would've been biased.
I took a deep breath and took another paper, trying to mix colours together in hopes of getting the exact shade of blue of the shirt he was wearing. I sighed when the tint seemed to be way too light, so I added a little black, hoping to get the perfect colour. I mixed it and looked at his shirt, before looking back at it with a frown. There was something that wasn't quite right about it, but I couldn't tell what it was. Maybe I should've added some purple? Or some more black. What about a little bit of a lighter shade of blue?
I was that concentrated on what I was doing what I didn't even notice the way the bed moved slightly as Harry propped himself up on his elbows.
"It needs some white."
I looked up all of sudden at the deep sound of his voice. "What?"
"That" he said, motioning at the sheet with a finger, "needs some white."
I furrowed my eyebrows. "No it doesn't." I would've seen it if it needed white, I'd been doing that kind of thing for years.
He didn't say anything, opting to just stare at me instead.
I sighed, already knowing that I couldn't have kept myself from giving in. "Alright. But if it gets ruined it's your fault" I murmured, taking just a little white, not more than the tip of a pencil, and putting it into the mix, mixing it and looking at the final result, my mouth falling open when I realised that the colour was exactly the same one of the shirt he was wearing. "How did you do that?" I asked, looking up at him with a frown on my face.
He shrugged. "My mum was a painter, I used to hang out in her studio when I was younger" he said, a hint of something I couldn't recognise in his voice.
"Was? She isn't anymore?" I asked him, unable to mask the curiosity in my voice. With that new piece of information, I wondered if he'd ever noticed something wrong in the way I drew, without pointing it out.
"Something like that." He lay down again right after, making me understand that any continuation of that conversation would've been unwanted.
I sighed, going back to minding my business.
I kept drawing for about another half an hour with no interruptions, wondering about what Harry had said. I just couldn't understand why he had to be so mysterious about everything. Every time he opened his mouth to share something I was left wondering even more than before. It wasn't fair.
I put the drawing on the side, his shirt half coloured and half still white, staring at the white couch on the other side of the room. I felt as if I was going crazy. Way too many things had happened that day, and I felt as if I couldn't keep up with them all.
I looked at the time on the alarm clock on my nightstand, it was already half past six, my mum would've been home soon.
"Are you done for today?" Harry asked all of sudden sitting up on the bed and crossing one of his legs under the other.
I nodded and he stood up, passing his fingers through his dark curls to make sure they weren't messed up, before bending down to put on his shoes and straightening his shirt, that was all crumpled up in the back, giving me an eyeful of the leaves tattoo right over the dark waistband of his boxers as he fixed it.
"Goodbye" he said lowly before exiting the room, not even giving me time to say it back.
I lay down on the bed with a sigh, careful not to ruin my drawing or dirtying my clothes with colour, listening for the sound of the door being shut. When I heard it I stood up and took all the things that were with us on the bed and brought them back into my studio, momentarily putting them on the floor to unlock the door.
I put them over my light coloured desk and turned on all the lights in the room, to make sure that it was as bright as possible. It was almost impossible to draw decently in the dark.
All of sudden I heard the front door open and went down the stairs to find my mother in the entrance, two shopping bags in her hands.
"Sierra, would you mind getting the third bag? It's in the car" she said as soon as she heard me come down, and I nodded, putting on the shoes I'd left next to the door and exiting the house to get the bag from the boot of the car.
I walked back in, taking off my shoes and bringing the bag into the kitchen.
"Is pasta fine for dinner?" My mum said while she was putting the milk in the fridge. "Dad's gonna be late again, so it's just us."
"Sure" I said, about to leave the kitchen when she spoke again.
"Would you mind giving me a hand? I feel like we never talk."
I nodded, walking back into the kitchen and washing my hands.
I helped around while making dinner, chatting to my mom about many unimportant things. We waited a bit to see if my dad would've come home, but when the clock showed half past seven, we knew it would've been way easier to just save up something for him to eat later.
After dinner I went in the studio again, spotting my unfinished drawing on the desk and walking towards it before stopping in my tracks as a thought crossed my mind.
I'd totally forgot to ask Harry to come the day after again.
I rushed back into my bedroom, my eyes widened, spotting my phone abandoned on my bed. I took it and typed a text, sending it fast.
To Harry: Could you come to mine tomorrow again?
I exited the room and went back into the studio, not before having taken my earphones with me, closing the door and sitting at the desk, leaving my phone in front of me so that I could've seen if he'd replied.
I put my earphones on and chose a playlist of calming songs I'd made for when I drew on my own. I'd discovered some years ago that I drew better when I was relaxed, and listening to music was the fastest way to achieve that. Other than that, it also made me feel as if I was in my own little world, and no sound coming from outside could've bothered me.
My phone buzzed on my desk, the screen lighting up, and I scrambled to get a hold of it.
From Harry: Ok.
I bit my lower lip, deciding what to reply to him.
To Harry: You don't need to dress in the same way again
I left my phone on the desk, but I didn't even have time to take a pencil before another text came.
From Harry: Sure.
I put the device, unlocked, down, staring at the screen and leaning against the back of the chair. I took it again, starting to type a text, but deleting it right away. I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, taking a deep breath. Come on Sierra, I told myself. He'd been the one to kiss me first. He'd been the one to kiss me twice. If he'd done something like that, I could find it in me to initiate a conversation with him over text. I took another deep breath, starting to type again.
To Harry: What are you doing?
My breath stopped in my throat as soon as I sent the message. What if he didn't want to talk? Even worse, what if he thought it sounded weird? That was a stupid move.
I almost threw the phone on the light coloured wood of my desk, every minute that went by without a reply making me more and more nervous. I also wished I had a sibling so that I could've told him they'd been the ones to send it, and not me. It was getting ridiculous.
I shook my head after five minutes had gone by, realising that he wouldn't have replied and taking a pencil again and going back to the drawing.
About twenty minutes after my phone buzzed again, and I spied the screen from where I was sitting, scared of picking it up in worry of what I would've read.
From Harry: Reading. You?
I took it and I unlocked it, a little smile on my face. I hadn't expected him to reply, if I had to be honest.
To Harry: Reading what?
I typed the message fast, but waited around five minutes before sending it, not wanting to look too eager, especially because he'd replied after almost half an hour.
I sent it and went back to my drawing, that time more relaxed than before after discovering that Harry didn't seem to have any plans to ignore me that night.
The reply came about two minutes after, thankfully. I didn't think I could've waited another thirty minutes without overthinking everything single second of them.
From Harry: A book.
I pursed my lips at the lack of information he'd shared.
To Harry: What book?
That time the reply came so fast that I didn't even have time to put the phone down after locking the screen.
From Harry: You know, you ask way too many questions.
My breath stopped in my throat for a couple of seconds before I replied
To Harry: Sorry
I scrolled up our small conversation, just then noticing that he'd asked me what I was doing too. I typed another text fast, sending it to change topic.
To Harry: I'm drawing
I put the phone down and resumed my actions, looking up again only when the phone buzzed again.
From Harry: If you can do it when I'm not there what do you need me there for?
The question seemed somewhat innocent, but it made my heart drop nonetheless. What if he thought I only had him around to try to make him hit on me or something like that? I took a deep breath to avoid panicking and decided to reply with the truth, hoping that he would've believed me.
To Harry: To make sure I'm not messing it up
The reply came sooner than I'd expected.
From Harry: Nicely put.
I crossed my legs on the chair, smiling to myself when I realised it was one of the longest conversations we'd ever had.
I looked at the drawing, that was waiting in front of me. I knew I wasn't in the right mindset to even think about continuing it that night, my heart beating a little faster every time a new text came.
I stood up and left the studio, my phone in my hand, shutting the lights behind me and locking the door.