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looselucy · 7 years ago

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Petals

80 Wednesday the 5th of April should have been like any other day, really. It should have involved waking up with a big smile on my face, a few more jobs to apply for, Harry either holding me close or already up making breakfast. They were the mornings I’d become accustom to after a fortnight of living with him. But I didn’t get any of those lovely things.

I awoke already squirming and complaining as Harry whipped the duvet off me, sniggering to himself as searched for sheets that were no longer there, my fingers clasping at nothing and my eyes still closed and my lips pouted. “Noooooooo.” I cried. “Why are you doing this to me?” “Get up! C’mon! We’re busy today.” “No.” I shook my head and then turned it into the pillow, my voice dulling. “I remember specifically that you said you weren’t working today. We have no plans. Only bed.” The mattress bounced aggressively as he leapt onto the bed, and then he started jumping. The idiotic man was actually jumping on the bed. I turned my head so I could face him, my whole body jolting as he grinned to himself, happily jumping up and down with not a care in the world. “Get up!” “I hate you.” “GET UP FLORENCE!” “DON’T FULL NAME ME!” He was so giddy over his actions, it almost looked like you could set up camp in his dimples. Even though I was cold and desperate to still be snuggled in bed, I couldn’t help but smile, just seeing how happy he was. “The thing is, Florence, there’s something happening in the centre today, and I didn’t know about it until this morning but we have to go.” “What does it involve?” I finally giggled, reaching my hands up so he could pull me to my feet. “That’s a secret.” He grunted as he dragged me upright. He stopped bouncing as soon as I was on my feet, because we both knew I wouldn’t be able to stay vertical if he continued bouncing like he had. “I’m not going unless you tell me.” “But it’s all part of the fun!” He fought. “Do you trust me?” “Of course I do.” “Then I promise, you’re going to love it.” “As long as it’s something we’ll both enjoy.” I folded my arms. “I’m going to enjoy it more than you are. Hands down. I’m going to die, I’m that excited.” “Tell me!” I pleaded. He shook his head, moving in and planting a firm, loud kiss on my forehead, and then he jumped back off the bed, practically skipping over to the kitchen, because it turned out he was midway through making breakfast after all, I’d just been too busy complaining to notice. “Go get ready.” He instructed. “We need to be there in like… an hour, so you’ll find out soon enough.” “This best be good.” I stumbled downwards, strolling towards the bathroom. I heard him sniggering again, enjoying keeping me in the dark when it came to our plans, and I was trying to enjoy it too, be excited and eager but I was just a bundle of nerves. I hated the uncertainty of it, and how hyped Harry was. It genuinely could have been anything, knowing him. He wasn’t easy to predict in that sense. It also really pissed me off that I had no idea what I should wear because I had no idea where I was going. I was just about to shout him and ask, but I knew he wouldn’t reveal anything to me, so it was entirely pointless. Harry had sorted me a set of drawers in his bathroom, which I literally thought was the most adorable thing ever. He was weirdly tidy for a young male with his own place, no one demanding he tidied up after himself, so he’d probably only done it to get my clothes off his floor and into an organised space, but I still thought it was adorable. By the time I was ready, Harry was laying out our omelettes on his dining table, still just wandering about in his underwear like he always did, hair tied into a loose bun, muscles flexing. I’d grown accustom to him looking that way, but occasionally, the sight of those tattoos, his large arms, the span of his hands, the tattered curls, the full lips and toned physique; it completely knocked the wind out of me. He was beautiful, and though I knew that to be true of his soul, sometimes it was almost like I had to force myself to be blind to his physical appearance. “What?” He pulled me from my trance. I hadn’t realised I’d been gawping at him, but I definitely had, so much so he’d noticed. “Nothing.” I gasped, though it was clear I was lying. He had this look in his eye, like he had me completely figured out, like every emotion and thought I felt was once again something that he could access easily, crawl within and explore. As I began to approach the table, wanting to move on from my obvious staring and his obvious knowledge, he moved towards me, standing his body firm in front of mine, blocking me. I looked up to him, my lips close to his chest, his fingers clasping around the dagger pendant I kept tight around my neck. “I need to make something clear.” His voice sent shivers sparking down my spine, so deep, hypnotic. He then wrapped his fist around my necklace, using it to yank me forward, my breathing faltering as the front of my body jounced into his. “What’s that?” I tried to keep my composure. But then I looked up to him, and every ounce of equilibrium I’d managed to salvage slipped away, just seeing the smirk on his face, the spark of charm that flickered somewhere in the green of his eyes. I was fucked. “What’s happening today, what I have planned for us… It’s a date.” “Wh-what?” “I’m taking you out on a date.” “I… Uh… I don’t-” I tried to pull from him, but he wouldn’t let me. I took a step back, and he followed, predicting my moves and gripping his large hands at my waist. “Tell me you don’t want this.” He groaned, keeping me in place. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.” Breathlessly, I tried to find the words, tried to form them in my mouth and push them outwards. But they couldn’t form there because they didn’t exist within me. Those words couldn’t rise from my heart, or my gut, because they weren’t there. I couldn’t tell him to stop because there wasn’t a shred of me that wanted him to. “I want this.” I whispered, dizzy over the words. I felt his whole body relax, my admittance easing his exterior and soothing his mind, an almost moan like sound pouring from between his parted lips. “Good.” He quaked, somehow holding me even closer. “I feel wobbly.” “You’re fucking adorable.” “The foods going cold.” He laughed to himself, once again kissing my forehead, and then he let go of me, leaving me stumbling backwards, genuinely woozy over what had just happened. When I opened my eyes, I was seeing stars, maybe because of my unease, or maybe because I was sure I’d never seen Harry look happier. “You’re already dressed for a date anyway.” He shrugged. I looked down to my outfit choice like I didn’t already know what I was wearing, almost like it was a complete subconscious decision that I’d once again decided to wear a dress. “Fuck.” I cursed gently. 81 “A flower show?” I gawped. “Yeah!” “A flower show?” “Yeah!” “You have hay-fever!” I pointed out the obvious, because his nose was already bright red, and he was stretching his face out, trying to control it. We were already stood in the centre of the large, white tent they’d put up for the occasion, surrounded by flowers and elderly couples who were wandering around, pointing at flower arrangements, mulling over the different types and colours. It was beautiful to see, so bright and warm and vivid. I felt at peace in there, and we were only in the first tent. They’d lined up around ten of them in the square in the centre of the city, and Harry was absolutely elated that we’d be exploring them all. And even though it was incredibly lovely, I still had to shake my head at him. He was like no boy I had ever known. “I’ll be fine.” He dismissed. “Are you sure?” “Yes. It’ll totally be worth it. LOOK AT THESE!” He took my hand and pulled me off towards some white flowers he’d spotted, quickly planting me in front of them, delicately reaching out towards the petals. “These are pretty.” I smiled. “Florence Daisy Valentine, these are more than pretty.” He sighed, disappointed in me. “They only grow in like… two or three places in the world. They’re called Skeleton Flowers. I don’t even know how they’ve managed to get them here without them dying. They must have been kept really warm. When the petals get wet, they go see-through.” “Really?” I gasped, a little excited. “Seriously! It’s so cool! I’ll show you the video when we get home. They’re amazing. I can’t believe I get to see one in real life!” I knew he loved flowers, he’d always been open about that, but it was still enjoyable to see him getting so excited over them. He was totally in his element, even if it meant that his eyes were watering and his nose was red and his voice was a little dopier than it was usually. Being stood in that tent, surrounded by the rich colours and the nature he had loved since he was a small boy, years before his nightmares, years before tattoos and liquor and before his father’s cancer, he seemed whole. He was young, encompassed by an awe-inspiring happiness, before the worries and stresses of his life had pushed themselves through his bubble. I could see it all in his eyes, the dreams of a young boy rather than the nightmares of a man. He'd never looked so beautiful. “You look happy.” I told him, wonder in my eyes. “I am happy.” “Good!” I giggled. “I like seeing you like this.” “You always see me happy.” “I know but like… This is on another level. I love it.” He smiled briefly, but then the features of his face began to twitch, and I could see the sneeze building up before it finally escaped. I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out how cute I thought he was. So that was how we spent our morning. We wandered around each tent, and Harry sniffled and sneezed and looked adorable the entire time. He told me facts about the beautiful flowers that he loved and learnt new things about the ones that were a little less familiar to him. We spoke and we laughed and became at one with the rich colours that surrounded us, each petal and stem reaching further than our vision, somehow, almost like the effect they had left the stems tangling and intertwining somewhere much deeper. I finally understood exactly why Harry loved flowers so much. It almost felt as though it was impossible to feel unhappy in that atmosphere. Imagine how much my happiness inflated when Harry appeared with a gigantic bunch of sunflowers he’d purchased me. He’d explained he had been a little tempted to get me daisies put with them just because of my middle name, until he remembered I hated my name, and the sunflowers alone would have to do. By the time we’d sat down for lunch, I was still blushing, having to move the sunflowers down to the floor because I couldn’t see him when they were atop the table. They were big and bright and beautiful and completely in the way. “Your face is a normal colour again.” I cooed. “Good.” He chuckled, smiling sweetly across the table. The sun sunk through the ivy that climbed the metal frames that sectioned off the outside area of the restaurant he’d chosen, igniting his caring face, beating down on him almost as though he was pulling in the suns power. “You look good today.” I told him. It wasn’t that he didn’t look good every day, because he did, but he looked extra beautiful that day, filled with joy and covered in pollen. “Thank you. So do you.” He returned. “Thank you.” “I love it when you accept my compliments.” He sighed, picking up the menu. “So, how do you think it’s going?” “What?” “The date! How do you think the date is going?” I guess I’d kind of forgotten we were on a date. I hadn’t felt nervous, or jittery, I’d just been myself. Because, technically, it was our first date, but in a way, I’d already been in a relationship with him. I lived with him. Being in his company was so natural and easy, that even the title of a date wasn’t enough to make me nervy. Even so, there had been something special about that day, and we were only in the early afternoon. “It’s been really good.” I admitted, my teeth keen to show themselves. “I’ve not been on many dates, but this is by far, the best one I have been on.” “That’s a bold claim.” “Not really.” It was stupid how large my smile was. “You’re probably the only nice person who has ever taken me out on a date, so you don’t have much competition.” “Fair point.” He chortled. “But, I think you would still take the title anyway. Today has been lovely.” “So far!” He noted. “Plenty of time left in the day for me to fuck this up. OR, make it better. Hopefully the latter.” I watched him trace his eyes over the menu, and I was fascinated by him. I guess I always had been, but I was letting myself feel it more. A part of me wished I could list it all off, find the specific thing that made him so captivating, just so I could make sense of it. But it seemed to be everything about him. People often possess certain good characteristics, like kindness, intelligence, humour, good looks, compassion. I found it easy and helpful to tag people with certain wonderful characteristics. Yet Harry loudly possessed every good quality I could name, almost like you didn’t have to get to know him to realise it. His wonder was so intense and strong, that it emitted from him, and I began to question if the glow I’d noticed was coming from the sun, or if it was something that just happened from within him. I couldn’t get enough of it. At some point, I managed to pull my eyes away from him and pick what I wanted to it, opting for the biggest burger available. No mucking around. “I’ve been speaking to my sister recently.” I told him nervously. “Really?” His eyes went wide. “Shit. How’s it going?” “I think it’s going quite well! Like, we’re just texting back and forth a bit, but, it’s nice. It feels normal. Like, it just feels like I’m chatting with my sister. We’ve not been like that for years.” “Must be nice.” “It is. It kinda feels like… we could be okay.” He nodded, his fingers searching over the woven material of the white sheet on the table, tracing the white flower that had been stitched with care into the seams. He looked like he was a little hesitant over the words he was about to say. “Do you… Do you feel like you’re any closer to talking to your parents?” I was doing everything one step at a time, and it was working for me. I’d gone from ignoring things to handling them, but it had to be one by one. I felt like speaking to them was one of the final steps, one that was so far into the distance that I couldn’t see it, so I didn’t need to think about it. “I don’t know.” I acknowledged, running my hand through my hair. “It just feels like that’s a huge step, y’know? I’m just not there. I will be. Sometimes, it feels close, but… It’s not. Not yet.” “That’s okay! It’s okay if you never get there!” His pitch heightened to some extent. “It’s not an easy thing, and if it’s too big for you, that’s understandable. I… I know I wasn’t with your family for long, but I can imagine how intimidating your mother can be. I can imagine her reacting badly and fighting what you tell her. I know you snapped, when you said to your sister that you’re close to cutting them all out of your life, but… if that’s what you need to do, then… that’s okay. I think it would be amazing, if you can talk to them and figure something out. I hope that happens, I really do, but… I want it to be something you want, rather than something you feel like you should be doing. Am I talking sense?” “I think so.” “I just mean… if cutting them out is what you want, then do it. Don’t fight for something and waste energy on things you don’t want. Don’t try and heal something that’s incurable. I hope it’s not but, if it is, that’s okay, and it’s not your fault.” If we were at home, I would have wrapped my arms around him and held onto him for as long as I physically could. I’d whisper into his ear, tell him how grateful I was for him. I’d run my fingers through his soft curls, shiver when his hands stroked down my spine, sigh when I noticed I could feel the faint beating of his heart. I wished we were at home. “You’re incredible.” I opted for instead. “Thank you.” 82 Louis had done a wonderful job, when it came to teaching Harry how to give sex eyes. I was glad to be on the receiving end. I was trying to talk to him, but I was continuously distracted by the way his eyes would occasionally drop, running down and back up my body, landing on my face as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, his fingers running the softest circles imaginable at the top of my leg. It started feeling more like a date then, with whiskey on the table and charm in his every move. “You lied to me.” I said, ignoring the gentle bustle around us. “What? When?” “Well you told me, once upon a time, that you don’t have any moves that you pull on a date. I feel like I’ve been lied to.” “That’s not strictly true.” He leaned even closer to me, his body twisted so he could look directly at me. “I told you about the sex eyes, and I told you that I like flowers. I bought you flowers, didn’t I?” “You did. And the sex eyes…” “How am I doing?” “Very well.” “Good,” Again, his eyes flicked downwards. “I’m glad you’re impressed by my efforts. Besides, there are a lot of date moves I haven’t pulled.” The bar we’d chosen was filled with circular booths. Harry had called in a favour with a friend earlier on in the day, because apparently people booked months in advance to get one of the booths for the evening, even if it was on a bloody Wednesday night. Even though we could hear the faint chattering coming from other booths, the piano being played somewhere in the distance, it felt totally secluded. There was just me and him, most of the booth empty, the two of us tucked close together. He took his unoccupied hand, the back of his fingers brushing against my collarbone as he toyed with the chain of my necklace. “Such as?” I prompted. “Yawning and putting my arm around you, which is a classic.” “Then do it.” So, dramatically, he did. He faked the most ridiculous yawn I had ever seen, making me blurt out a laugh as I picked up my drink and brought the straw to my lips, needing something there to stop me from blurting out again that I genuinely thought he was the most adorable human being of all time. His arm fell heavy around me, making sweet little sleepy noises as we eased into our new position, and I was sure his lips were getting closer to my own. “That worked quite well.” His voice was getting lower. “Are you still comfortable?” “Very.” “Good.” “And I don’t just mean the position. I’m comfortable around you! You… make me feel comfortable. I dunno. It’s weird.” The tip of his tongue escaped its trap so that he could wet his lips, his eyes falling again, but they stayed on my mouth, his heated breath tickling the area his eyes were adoring. Maybe I’d spoken too soon, because seeing him look at me that way had my heart beating twice as hard as it needed to, my throat tight and my lips quivering. I should have been better at handling myself, but when a boy so beautiful holds himself so close, focuses on your lips whilst he dampens his own with his smooth tongue, it’s near impossible to stay unruffled. “There’s another date move that I can’t pull,” He sighed. “Even though it’s a classic. So, I’m a bit upset about that one.” “What’s that?” I managed to choke out, my voice small. “After walking you home, I’d kiss you outside your front door.” He spoke casually, and I almost gasped. “But I can’t do that, since you live with me.” The deep tone of his voice suggested that Harry had never known rejection, like he’d confidently seduced every woman he’d ever wanted. He had complete control and it was wholly inspiring. I felt like there were so many things I could learn from Harry, things I was already learning, but that kind of magnetism was something he was just lucky to be born with. You can’t learn that kind of charisma, and it can’t be taught. You either have it, or you don’t. Harry was swimming in it. “I guess you’ll need to pull an imaginative move then.” I tried. “I have something in mind.” He was leaning in, and my hand landed on his thigh, closing my eyes as though not seeing it happen would mean it wasn’t happening, because somehow it was too much. My emotions were too much, his words were too much, the atmosphere we’d created was too much. I had to close my eyes, meaning that his fingers on my jaw came as a surprise to me. “HARRY?” We heard. My eyes automatically bolted open, seeing that Harry had his screwed shut, more to do with frustration than the fact that his lips were literally almost on mine. “This is literally… the most private bar I could find.” He sighed angrily, eyes still closed. “I literally… only managed to get us a booth because I work at Vocatus.” “OH MY GOD, HARRY!” We heard the voice again. “Who the fuck is that?” His question was answered when Zayn literally jumped into our booth, the biggest smile on his face, astonishment in his eyes. Reluctantly, we distanced somewhat, Harry turning to face Zayn and give him a fake, welcoming smile before he flopped his head backwards. “HEY YOU TWO!” Zayn squealed, as happy as ever. “Bro, I didn’t know you were coming here tonight.” “Called in a late favour.” Harry grunted his reply. “Y’know, we were gunna get our own booth, but we might as well join you two! Hold on, don’t move! I’ll go get her.” He said, before bouncing straight back out. “Who?” Harry attempted to grab his attention. “WHO?” But he was gone. I could tell that Harry was frustrated when he turned back to face me and found me laughing against the back of my hand, trying to stay quiet and trying to stop myself because I knew he’d be grumpy. “What about this is funny, Florence Daisy Valentine?” He huffed. “Everything.” I concluded. “If anything, I can’t believe we didn’t see this coming. I can’t believe that we thought this day would run smoothly. There had to be a hitch. It’s us!” He was shaking his head, but just about smiling, and I saw this as my perfect opportunity to lean in and plant a firm kiss on his cheek, the stain of my red lipstick surrounded by the blushed pink of his cheeks. Zayn was back a few seconds later, dragging a girl into the booth with him, still looking exceedingly happy and surprised to have ran into us. “Guys, this is Melissa!” He beamed. “Hi.” I gave her a small wave. “Nice to meet you.” Harry said, easing slightly. “Melissa, this is Harry and that’s Ren! They’re the couple I’ve told you so much about.” My brows lowered, shooting him a confused look across the table and wondering why the hell Zayn had chosen to talk about me and Harry to this girl. “I’m worried.” Harry’s brows furrowed. “What’ve you been saying?” “Melissa agreed to be in a fake relationship with me! I’ve been telling her all about you two and how you did it! This is actually great that we bumped into you. You can tell us everything and give us some advice. Amazing. Let’s order some drinks first!” I wasn’t sure how I felt. I wasn’t mad at Zayn for telling someone, not really. It probably made sense to tell someone he’d suggested that to, that he knew two people who’d done it before. I could tell from the look in the girl’s eyes that she was doing it in the hope of getting closer to Zayn; that much was clear, and she hadn’t said a single word. But I felt uncomfortable. Neither of us had ever really delved into the details of what we’d done and how we’d worked over Christmas. It was too weird to word, and in the end, it had caused so much unnecessary stress and pain, and driven a gap between me and Harry, even though it was the thing that originally brought us together. I didn’t want to talk about it. My relationship with Harry had been so confusing and complex because of our initial beginnings, and I felt like I’d finally spent a day with him where it had never crossed my mind, where everything felt normal and lovely and I was just on a date with a nice boy. I didn’t want to be reminded of all that. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to admit that the only reason we were there together was because of some twisted plan we’d allowed ourselves to get involved in. I turned my head towards Harry, and I could see the same disappointment running through his face. This was not how he’d wanted out evening to be. Not even close. He unwrapped his arm from around me, but dropped his hand to his side and found my fingers so he could link them with his own, clearing his throat and trying not to think about what we’d be doing if Zayn hadn’t just walked in and turned the latter half of our evening sour. 83 I was howling on top of the sheets, squirming around and clutching at my stomach, my cheeks hurting and my eyes watering. “I’m not kidding, Ren!” Harry argued beside me. “We’re doing this again tomorrow! I’m calling in sick and we’re going back to the flower show and back to the restaurant and back to the bar but this time, we’re wearing disguises. We’re doing it all again, but this time, we’re doing it without fucking Zayn coming and fucking it up. We’re doing it right.” “Noooooo!” I sniggered. “We’re doing it! Except, tomorrow, we have to get up an hour earlier to go down to the costume shop and sort out our disguises.” I wiped away my tears, glad we’d decided to make jokes about it rather than dwell on it, because our time with Zayn and Melissa had been totally exhausting. Joking about it made it okay that it had tainted what was otherwise a perfect day. I took my time calming down, my chuckles becoming rarer, and then I pulled the sheets up high, turning on my side and letting out a little yawn, snuggling my head into the pillow. “I’m sorry that it ended like that.” I smiled, closing my eyes. “I fucking hate Zayn.” “No you don’t.” “No, I don’t, he’s a nice lad, but I do. I fucking hate him.” I giggled again, opening my eyes briefly just to watch him settling down, and then I closed them again, completely at ease now we were home. “He’s harmless.” “Okay, so maybe we don’t need to repeat the whole date,” Harry continued. “But can I take you out tomorrow night? I’m working in the afternoon, but… Can I take you out again tomorrow night?” “Only if we don’t have to wear disguises.” “Deal!” “Okay.” I tittered. “You can take me out again.” “YES! Good.” Thanks to our early morning, I was exhausted. It felt like it had been a nonstop day, but it had been almost flawless. The weariness I could feel tugging my eyelids down was actually welcomed. And yet, I felt like I had to open them again, just to see Harry getting himself comfortable, still with a smirk tugging his lips upwards just slightly, seeming relatively heavenly. I was speaking before I’d even figured out what I wanted to say. “Harry?” “Mm?” He replied, eyes closed, facing the ceiling. “I like you.” I whispered, and his head whipped to face me. “I really… really fucking like you.” “Wh-what?” “I think you’re amazing, and… this isn’t a friendship, is it? Whatever it is it’s… totally insane and ridiculous but… it’s not a friendship. I like you.” I knew I’d been making that obvious all day. Maybe I’d been making obvious for even longer than that, but finally voicing it meant something entirely new. I’d just admitted it to myself in the exact same moment I admitted it to him. I’d felt something and dealt with it and voiced it immediately, as soon as it made sense to me. “You like me?” He asked, his voice so quiet I had barely grasped the words. “So much.” I didn’t need to hear him say those words back to me, because he made it clear with every movement. Every touch and every look screamed that he felt something for me that was so much stronger than a friendship. I didn’t need that confirmation, but he did. He had needed to hear that. “Fuck.” He gasped. “I… I hoped, but… Fuck.” I let out a breathy laugh, watching him as he tried to come to terms with what I’d just told him, his eyes searching over my face, like he was waiting for me to just crack and say I was joking. I wasn’t. He was never going to hear that. “Sorry it took me so long.” I swallowed. “No.” He shook his head, reaching his hand out and stroking his thumb just below my eyes. “Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry for taking the time to figure out how you feel.” I nodded, once again quickly accepting that Harry had made an extremely valid point. That’s when I noticed he was closing the gap between us once again. He was slowly hitching his head from his pillow onto mine, his eyes once again focused on my lips. His movements were so slow, drawn out and, his fingers moving to clasp at the curve of my jaw just below my ear. He stopped moving closer when his forehead thudded sweetly against mine, our noses touching, and I hooked my leg over his hip, breathing him in momentarily. “Harr-” He cut off my words as he planted his lips on mine, and I inhaled him some more, pushing the front of my body further into his and moaning into his tender kiss. Harry was kissing me. His tongue licked at my bottom lip, our mouths widening together, allowing the kiss to intensify, continuing to moan and push myself to him, losing my hands within his hair as his trailed down my back. “I adore you.” He mumbled to my lips. You know how you never really remember the moment you fall asleep? It just kind of happens? That’s what kissing him was like; just perfect and soothing and lovely and then it was happening. Whilst his lips were on mine it was like I was knocked unconscious until it was over, and then all I wanted to do was kiss him again, to be dragged under again, to slumber sweetly once again. His hips kept ticking up towards me as he groaned into my open mouth, his tongue working wonders with mine, and none of it felt real. Every inch of my body belonged to him in that moment, and it was perfect. I’d never known a connection quite like the one we were sharing in that moment, it was almost omnipotent. I wanted to kiss him until I could feel that his lips were swollen against mine. I wanted to feel all over him until the mornings sun shot through his rounded windows. I wanted to belong in that moment for as long as I physically could because no feeling I’d ever had compared. I wished it was something I could bottle, return to it and taste the sweet flavour of his lips upon mine for the first time without there being any confusion or misconception. Everything was visible and uncomplicated, and the zest of our vibrant feelings was something I wanted to taste forever. But eventually, the kiss began to calm, Harry pattering sweet miniature presses of adoration to my lips, still holding me close. When he pulled away, his lips instinctively tugged outwards, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “I feel like I’ve waited my whole fucking life for a kiss like that.” He whispered, twisting his finger around the chain of my necklace. I left one last chaste kiss against his plump lips before I snuggled against his chest, feeling the calm hammer of his full heart. It felt like I’d held myself against him so securely a thousand times, but our closeness that night seemed to intensify. “Goodnight, Harry.” I whispered, pressing my lips against his chest. “Goodnight, Florence Daisy Valentine.”

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