R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys
ISABELLA
March. It was finally March. The tree's were starting to slowly grow back it's leaves and the cold winter air was beginning to warm up (slightly). But most of all, the best part of the whole damn month, is that it's the month Harry was born. It's also been three weeks since Harry and I have decided to try this whole dating thing. I would be lying if I said it wasn't the best three weeks in my life.
Tomorrow, was Harry's birthday. All day I have been racking my mind with something I could do for him. What we could do to celebrate his twenty-third year of life. To celebrate the old man that he is. (Even though, we're the same age. I still tease him. My birthday is in the end of the year after all). That was besides the point. The point of this all, is that tomorrow was Harry's twenty-third birthday and I am stuck in my bedroom, with my hands in my hair, pulling it hard in thought, trying to decide what to do for him.
I am the worst non-girlfriend but pretty much his girlfriend-girlfriend ever.
My eyes stare at the opened Safari tab. A blank page on google, ready for a search to happen. Birthday, birthday, birthday. My mind began to think about all the potential places we could go and gifts I could give.
What did Harry like? He was a simple man. He liked to read, he liked to smoke, he liked to have sex, and for some God-only-knows reason he likes me. You could dress up as a sexy librarian with a cigarette in your mouth, in his bedroom, and give him the best damn sex he's ever had. Oh subconscious, you've always been a classy broad haven't you.
My fingers touch the keyboard as I begin to type local bistros-London into the search bar. There had to be a place that would suit Harry and his tastes.
For the next forty-five minutes, I begin the tedious task of restaurant searching. By the time I finally found a place that deemed suitable enough for a twenty-third birthday dinner, it was nine at night.
I pick up my phone from my bedside table and click on his name. After a few rings, Harry's deep voice sounds through the small device. "Hey baby," his soothing voice brings a chill of goosebumps over my skin. It was almost alarming what a simple pet name could do to me. "It's kinda late, isn't it?" He chuckles on the other line.
"Yeah, but I wanted to talk to you before I went to bed."
A low chuckle comes from his end of the line. It's not a mocking sound but playfully amused. "Miss me already, love? It's only been a few hours."
"Still too long." I admit.
"I miss you too." He admits back. God, this man was going to be the death of me. "What're you up to?"
"Actually, I've been planning tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" He asks me, his words raising at the end in curiosity. "What's tomorrow?"
A small sigh comes from my lips, "Your birthday, silly."
"Ah, right. That. We're not doing anything." Harry didn't seem too thrilled about the idea of a birthday dinner. In fact, he didn't seem to thrilled about a birthday at all. When he had told me that his birthday was coming up, he had been nonchalant about it. I almost had to use my power of womanly persuasion to convince him to let me do something for him. Clearly, my persuasion wasn't as persuasive as I thought.
"Yes we are. I already made reservations."
He groans on the other line. "Baby, please. No dinner, no party. I don't want to do anything. It's just another fucking day."
"Nobody else will be there. Just us, I promise."
The line is silent for a few moments. The sound of his steady breathing being the only thing that could be heard from him. I sit on my bed quiet while my fingers playing with the loose thread of my pajama pants. His breathing picks up, an indication that he is about to speak. "Fine." He finally says.
"Really?" I can't even help the excitement that screams through my voice.
"Yes. Really. This better be some damn good birthday, babe. Damn good." I could almost see his smirk.
"I guess we'll have to wait and see."
-
The restaurant was exactly what I had imagined when I thought about a place to celebrate Harry. It had been a quaint bistro near Central London. The walls had been filled with open windows that allowed the late winter breeze to fill the room. The tables had been a sleek and black. With a simple menu, we were able to quickly pick what we wanted and order fast. The service had been equally as impeccable as its interior, the food beating it overall. Dinner had been perfect. The evening had been perfect.
My hand was being held in a comforting, tight grasp. My eyes follow the black rolled up sleeve of Harry's shirt. He was handsome. So damn handsome. His curls had been styled up for the evening, showcasing his awfully clear skin and vibrant green eyes. His beauty was perfection; I felt like a little girl playing dress up in comparison.
Harry looks over at me. His plump lips forming a small smile. "Thank you," he says softly. His voice laced with his usual raspy tone, only growing more so as the night progressed. His eyes are clouded in adoration as he looks at me.
"For what?"
"For dinner. For this," he raises our intertwined fingers, bringing them up to his lips. He kisses my knuckles before bringing our hands down. "For choosing me when I definitely don't deserve it."
I watch as his once vibrant eyes dim. His content emotion suddenly changing to something I can't quite decipher. he almost seemed annoyed; frustrated even.
"Are you okay?" I ask him carefully, testing his sudden mood change.
He breaks eye contact with whatever it is that he was fixated on. "Huh?" He looks over at me, his steady pace slowing down.
"I asked if you were okay," I answer him back gently.
Harry shakes his head - not to say no, but to physically clear his head. "Yeah, yeah. 'M fine." He gives my hand a quick squeeze before continuing his steady pace towards the London Eye.
We walk up to a vacant bench that sits near the Eye and looks out onto the River of Thames. His hand is still interlocked with mine. His tight grip not loosening, but still gentle enough to not hurt. Harry's focus is hard. His brows have furrowed. "Please tell me what's going on in your head right now. Was it dinner?"
He doesn't say anything to me. His eyes still focused on whatever thoughts he has harboring his mind. "Harry," I say louder this time. I squeeze his hand in hopes that it will break him from his thoughts.
Finally, he looks at me. His eyes squinting and brows furrowed. "What is it babe?"
"You are acting really strange right now."
"I am?" He looks confused. He brings his hand up to his hair and runs it through his curls. Using my free hand, I fix my skirt. I had to do something to bring my mind out of it's worrisome thoughts. "Sorry baby."
"It's fine." I whisper back. My eyes looking out into the night sky.
I zone out. My ears focusing on the sounds of the city around us. My eyes looking out into the river. If Harry was going to not tell me what was going on, I wasn't going to bother to talk to him.
A few minutes go by. Neither one of us saying anything. His hand is still holding on to mine. His grip not loosening even though mine has grown limp. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. This was not how I imagined the rest of our evening to go.
Suddenly, I remember his gift. I reach down for my purse that sits beside my feet. I pull out the small gift wrapped box and hand it to him. "Here."
Harry looks at me and down to the present in my hands. "You bought me a gift?" He asks me, his voice surprised.
"It's your birthday. Of course I bought you a gift." I hadn't intended to sound annoyed or short, but had anyways. Harry looks taken aback by my blank tone and face but doesn't say anything. Instead, he takes the gift from my hands, letting go of my other one, and begins to unwrap the packaging.
"Iz," he breathes out. In his hands was a first edition copy of Tom Sawyer. "Where the hell did you get this?" He asks me, his eyes widening. He looks at the back in excitement and carefully turns through the pages.
"Robert helped me find it. I was mentioning it to him a few days ago that it was your birthday. He then went off about how he had a bunch of vintage books stored in the back of the store that people never looked at. He passed me the box and well, I found that one. I didn't think it was actually first edition."
"This is amazing." Harry says in awe. "This was my favourite book as a kid."
"I know," I say with a sheepish grin.
He looks at me, a smug smirk on his lips. "You do?"
"Yeah," I blush. "I remember you telling me once. I couldn't forget it and when I saw the book it just made sense."
Harry leans over and kisses me. It's a simple kiss but holds so much more to it. "This is perfect," he whispers against my lips. "You're perfect." He kisses my cheek and then more forehead, eyes and then lips. I giggle against his mouth, his smile widening at the sound.
I pull back slightly. Our eyes meeting. My hand goes up from his arm and I run my fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. "Are you going to tell me now what that Mr. Grumpy pants moment was before?" I'm sure to keep my tone playful and light. I didn't want him to shut down once again.
Harry sighs. His eyes not leaving mine once. He leans in again and kisses my lips before pulling back slowly. He sits up and leans his back against the bench. His arm reaches around me, pulling me closer to his body.
"I was thinking," he starts off slowly. "I was thinking about how a year ago my birthday was complete shit. I was high off my ass and drunk. I partied with some of my friends in dingy flat with some bird in my bed. She was some random girl that I had met during that night but didn't give a fuck. I was drunk, I was high, I had needs that needed to be met, and it was my birthday." My heart sinks at the mention of him being with some other woman. I know that he was with others before me, but the mere mention of it made me feel sick. Granted, I had been with other guys too. The thought still killed me regardless.
"It was a fucking stupid day. I hate birthdays. I only used it as an excuse to get fucking drunk and forget about my damned home life."
His words begin to sink in. "Oh," I whisper. "I didn't know that. I'm sorry." I look down at my hands, "If I knew that, I wouldn't have done this." I motion to the book and look up at him.
He has a small smirk on his lips, his eyes staring deep into mine. "Don't apologize," he tells me slowly. His eyes searching mine as he speaks. "This was the first time I actually enjoyed having a birthday. This was the best one yet." He speaks under his breath, only loud enough for my ears to hear.
"I am so damn thankful for you Isabella. That's what I was thinking about. I was thinking about how you have my head spinning and my body in fucking need. I never wanted to be with a girl before as much as I've wanted to be with you. I don't know how you fucking did it, but I'm completely pussy whipped because of you." He jokes, the clouded dimness in his eyes lightening with each moment he looks at me.
I give him a small smile. My mind taking it's time in processing everything that he says. He smiles back and continues to speak. "I then thought about us. I've been thinking about us and this whole dating thing."
I begin to get nervous. The last thing that I want is to end this because he was tired of dating me. I know I'm not the most exciting fish in the sea, but I like him. I really, really like Harry and wanted to continue with whatever it is that was going on between us.
"What are you saying?" I ask carefully. The nerves in my voice clear as day. He gives my hand a tight squeeze.
"I'm saying that I know you wanted to date. I know that you wanted to take things slow but I can't anymore. I can't take this slow. I don't want to just date you."
"You want to end this?" I ask quietly, my heart racing in my chest.
Harry's eyes grow wide, "What?"
"You're making it sound like you want to end this." I can't look at him. My heart hurting too much to do so. "I know it's only been a few weeks since we started this whole dating thing, but I was getting to invested in this emotionally to stop now," I admit. The strength in my voice growing and giving me the confidence to speak up.
Harry sighs, his arm wrapping itself around me once more. "I'm not fucking ending this. Calm down," he chuckles.
"Then what are you saying?"
"I don't want to wait anymore. I want you to be my girl, Isabella. Fucking hell. I want you to be mine," he chuckles.
My lips widen into a massive grin, "Yours?"
"Yes, you maniac. I want you to be my fucking girlfriend." I lightly punch him in the arm. Harry feigns hurt before rolling his eyes at me once more.
"I'm not a maniac," I say to him. He laughs again, this time a boisterous, humorous laugh.
"You are when you accuse me of wanting to end this."
We look at each other. His eyes flooded with nerves and happiness. His fingers fiddle with mine as he waits for me to say something. I've never seen Harry like this before. He has always exuded confidence and even slight cockiness. He was never one to show his vulnerability until right now.
"Of course," I whisper. "I want to be yours."
His straight face changes into a grin of complete happiness. He shakes his head and straightens his posture. His grin changing into a cool smirk, in an attempt to feign manliness. "Yeah?" He asks against my ear, his low raspy voice filling my senses.
"Yeah." I smile up at him.
Harry leans in towards me. His lips brushing against mine.
"You're my girl." He speaks against my lips. His plump lips making contact with the corner of my mouth. "My. Fucking. Girl." He smirks once more before bringing his hand to the back of my head and pulling me into a kiss.
I pull back, my lips only millimeters apart. "Yours."