From me/warnings: I've had this in mind since last year 🥰 Jealous Harry, a little angsty, and a LOT of Callie. I also wanted to do a birthday special for our favorite guy 💕 also, I wrote a good chunk of this on my phone so please don’t mind any spelling or grammatical errors.
Summary: Harry thought he could handle her being friends with Callie But maybe he can't. She just loves Harry a lot.
Harry was jealous. Just plain, old, green-monster jealousy. Tried and true.
It took him a lot to admit that but, in the end, he knew that’s what it was and there was no getting around it. It wasn’t her fault. She was simply his favorite person in the world, and he just didn’t want to share her with anyone. He had waited so very long to have someone like her in his life. Someone who knew all the bad parts of him and loved him anyway.
He was selfish and wanted her all to himself.
Selfish and jealous.
But the worst part, the absolute worst part of being jealous…
He was jealous of Kian Calloway of all people.
The way she giggled at Callie made his stomach knot. When he smiled at her while she spoke (like he was actually listening and not just picturing her naked) he felt his blood pressure spike. If Harry even thought about him actually picturing her naked then he might have already “accidentally” killed one of his best friends.
She warned him. That he would feel this way. And he knew she’d be right. She was right about everything. All the time. It wasn’t even irritating. It was a calming constant to know that his sweet, lovely Rookie just had it all together. Like she was true north on a compass. Always pointing where to go and he didn’t have to worry about anything else.
But he really hated that she was right this time around.
“Rookie?” He called. She was entranced by her phone. Completely preoccupied. He was almost jealous of the piece of plastic, metal, and glass just as much. But it wasn’t just the phone. He was jealous of who was at the other end of her enchantment with her cell. He turned on his stool in front of the kitchen island where he was eating an English muffin with avocado that she made him. She stood across the island nibbling at her toast with jam. There was a clementine that Harry peeled for her and she bit into a slice while she ignored him while smiling at whatever dumb fucking thing his best friend said. He didn’t even have to ask who she was texting. He already knew. Because they had been texting more and more frequently. For hours at a time.
God, Harry hated Callie. “Kitten, love?” He called a little louder.
“Oh, sorry baby,” she put her phone aside and turned to him with a sweet smile so unbelievably beautiful he couldn’t stay mad at her even if he wanted to—and he wasn’t mad at her, not even a little. He just didn’t want her to be happy without him in her life. And if Callie could make her happy…“I was just checking with Callie if he wanted to hang out tomorrow. Is that alright with you?”
And what was he supposed to do? Say no? She already talked about how she had no friends. How Kael isolated her from her friends and family and everything under the sun that was so awful he couldn’t put it into words. If he said no, how would he be any different than her ex? Because he was jealous? He wasn’t even remotely worried about Callie taking her from him, he just wanted to shower her with love and attention. He didn’t want someone like Callie, who didn’t have the reputation with women that Harry had, to remind her of just that.
So, Harry swallowed his pride and ignored the green monster invading his head and bloodstream. “Yeah, course. Y’don’t have t’ask, Rookie.”
Because she didn’t. She was allowed to do whatever she wanted. As long as she was happy. Harry just really hated that her happiness included spending time with Callie for any length of time. “Harry,” her voice was gentle. Like she was going to talk someone out of a fight. Maybe Harry was thinking of it. He looked up at her and smiled encouragingly.
“Mm?” He hummed.
“I don’t have to hang out with him if you don’t want me to,” she held his gaze confidently. Like she could see the little monster that was infecting him as if he was coming down with the flu.
“Y’can hang out with him,” he knew he sounded stiffer than he wanted to. “Y’really don’t’ have t’ask, kitten.”
She nodded, still disbelieving. Clear on her face.
“Well tomorrow after I get home, we can go to dinner, or watch a movie, I’ll make dessert if you want,” she offered. She moved around the island and slid between him and the counter gently pushing his plate away so she wouldn’t get hair in his food. It warmed Harry a bit more because she was locked between Harry and his seat. He wasn’t sure there was anything prettier than her being this close to him.
He was trying. But his smile definitely wasn’t as bright as he hoped because she still had a (pretty) slight pout on her lips. “You mean you’ll be dessert?” He asked cutely. He wrapped his hands around her back and slid them into her pockets. He pulled her closer between his thighs, and she dropped her forehead to his.
Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “If you think I’m dessert worthy,” she smirked.
He chuckled and pressed his lips softly over hers. His whole body tingled and he thought he couldn’t love someone so much. “You’re the sweetest, Bunny. I could eat you up every day.”
*
“Sweetheart, you hung out with Callie yesterday?” Niall asked. She was standing off ice looking at her camera but checking the lighting with random shots for the new posters that needed to be made for the team.
She nodded almost sullenly. Harry felt his chest tighten a bit. She was gone for a good number of hours, but it felt like weeks while he waited for her to return. “Yeah… we got mani-pedis.”
“What color did you get?” Lang rolled his eyes.
“I didn’t get a color obviously, dickhead,” Callie rolled his eyes. “You guys should try it. It felt like magic. I might go back again next week.”
Asher snorted. “Are you taking her with you or are you going alone?”
“I don’t know; do you want to go again, Sweetheart?” Callie asked.
Harry skated to the other end of the ice and tried to slap the puck into the back of the net as hard as he could. Fortunately for him, it missed. It reverberated off the boards so loudly. It made a piece of the tightness in Harry’s chest crack with the anger he felt as it ricocheted off the wall.
“I usually keep my manicure for more than a week,” she shook her head with an eye roll. Her gaze turned to number eleven at the other end, and she watched him collect the pucks and send them back in the direction of the rest of the team. Niall stopped a few and glanced at her with a knowing smile.
She sucked her lip into her mouth and placed her camera on the bench and slid onto the ice on her skates and headed toward Harry. “Hi,” she skidded to a stop unsteadily. Harry caught her arm instinctively and she smiled kindly. “Nice catch.”
“You are,” he mumbled with a smirk.
She felt her stomach flutter. Harry flirted with her openly for months before they actually started dating and somehow the tiny little compliment, (not even an innuendo that he used to give her or still said when he wanted to make her horny), made her cheeks warm. “Are you okay?”
“M’fine. Is it my turn?” He asked.
“Baby,” she pouted.
“M’fine Rookie. Jus’ a little tired. Want to go home.”
She nodded. She had a shift at The Locker Room. So, Harry would be alone. That didn’t bode well for him. She could tell he was upset. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, kitten.”
“Okay, baby,” she bit the inside of her lip. “Do you want a kiss?” She asked.
He dropped his stick and yanked his helmet off. His hair curled around his face with sweat, and he was a little red from the cold. He was so pretty it made her stomach twist. “If I ever say no t’kissing you, Bunny, put me out of m’misery.” He tugged a glove off with his teeth and let it fall beside his stick. He quickly put his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her in to kiss her.
She giggled while he kissed her, which made him smile against her lips. It felt more genuine and normal right then than it had over the last week. If he could just get her to stop hanging out with Calloway for a while, he’d feel even better.
“Styles, if you don’t get your filthy hands off my niece I’m benching you for the rest of the season!”
Harry pulled away slowly, pecked her lips two more times and he winked at her. “Worth it,” he grabbed his glove to put it back on.
“It’s my fault Uncle Charlie. He’s just so cute, you know?”
“No. I don’t. Aren’t you supposed to be taking pictures?”
She pouted. “You’re not supposed to pick on me! Pick less hotter players!” She grabbed Harry’s gloved hand so he could help her skate back to the rest of the team.
“Did you hear that, Coach? She thinks I’m hot,” Callie grinned excitedly at her uncle. Harry felt his blood boil once more and before he realized he reacted, she was putting her other hand over his where he squeezed too tight.
“Must be where I get my good taste in men, huh, Uncle Charlie?” She giggled and grabbed her camera and then returned to the ice. She moved Harry to the center of the ice and positioned him just so. “You’re my favorite though, don’t tell the others.”
“I think they know, Rookie,” he chuckled as she snapped photos of him.
“That I’m obsessed with you?”
His smile grew a hair, and he shook his head as he moved his stick around back and forth hoping it looked natural to her. “Yeah,” he hummed. He liked that. That she was obsessed with him. Liked that she said it. Because he was obsessed with her.
“I love you, Harry Styles,” she reminded him as she skated closer, kissed him quickly, and then blinded him with a flash of her camera one more time. She giggled cutely and Harry rolled his eyes as he shoved her gently but never released her from his arms since he couldn’t see where he was shoving her.
“Do we all get to kiss you?” Asher asked.
“Not if you value your life,” Charlie grumbled.
“Agreed,” Harry smirked and kissed the side of her head once more before swapping his position with Niall.
*
She knew Harry was jealous. Really jealous. She appreciated him trying to pretend he wasn’t, but she wasn’t fooled by how he was feeling.
I’ll be home soon 😘
Okay
I love you Harry Styles 🥰
I love you too Rookie xo
She pouted at her phone and looked at Callie. “The poor thing is so jealous of you,” she sighed and stuffed her phone in her pocket.
Callie chuckled. “Good, I’m jealous of him.”
“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes.
“Don’t worry, Sweetheart, I’m beyond trying to steal you from him.”
“Callie, that was literally never an option.”
“No need to break my heart,” he flicked her cheek. They were sitting at a high-top counter eating lunch next to each other. Callie had a hat on, and he hoped no one would notice him. She couldn’t imagine what the magazines and paparazzi would have to say about Harry’s girlfriend getting lunch with his best friend.
They’d gone to the party store, the bakery, and the restaurant where they would have the party. Harry had no idea. He assumed they were just hanging out like they had been over the last few days so as not to give anything away. Unfortunately, it made him very grumpy and frustrated. Therefore, she tried to keep their hanging out to a minimum. The mani-pedis they got the other day was the longest length of time and she wasn’t convinced Harry would forgive her.
“I love Harry so much Callie, it’s disgusting.”
“It is disgusting.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re disgusting.”
“Good one,” he scoffed and bit into his sandwich.
“He doesn’t have any idea?”
“I don’t think so. I think he’s actually feeling really bad about us hanging out so much,” she pursed her lips as she sipped her lemonade. Callie sighed.
“He’s not really used to this whole girlfriend thing.”
“I don’t think it helps I dated his mortal enemy for a while.”
“Yeah, what did you see in that guy, Sweetheart? Like Harry’s bad enough,” he joked. She shoved his arm.
“You’re friends with Harry.”
“I know,” he shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. “You guys are ridiculous about one another. You wouldn’t even know you like each other.”
He chuckled and snagged one of her fries from her plate. “He’s really in love with you,” Callie smiled knowingly. She grinned to herself, feeling a little warm and embarrassed.
“I know.”
“I know you had some reservations about Harry, but you have nothing to worry about,” he smirked.
She smiled a little brighter. “I know.”
“Now you just have to help me find someone,” he winked. “Maybe if you have a friend who is just like you,” he suggested.
She laughed and shook her head. “I don’t have friends,” she shook her head. Callie frowned, draped an arm around the back of her chair and sighed.
“Well, you have me. Until Harry kills me anyway.”
“I won’t let him kill you.”
“I don’t know, Sweetheart. I don’t think you realize exactly what Harry would do for you.”
She smiled again and sipped her drink while ignoring Callie’s teasing once more. I’m heading to the store; do you need anything?
No, just you 😘
You already have that, Bunny.
“Ahh, I’ve been gone too long he’s calling me bunny,” she smirked.
“Ugh, he’s sickening. I swear I barely know him anymore. In the best way. You’re the best, Sweetheart,” he kissed the top of her head chastely. “Do we need anything else before I bring you home? I know you were worried about the away trip getting in the way of planning.”
“I think we’re good,” she consulted the list on her phone once more to double check she and Callie had gotten to everything. Niall was in charge of getting Harry’s mother and sister from the airport. She was very nervous about the day of—worried getting Harry to the restaurant without blowing the secret was going to be next to impossible.
“Then let’s get you home to your boyfriend,” he grabbed her bags with one hand and placed a hand on her lower back to guide her out of the restaurant. “You’re the coolest girlfriend for doing this by the way. He’s very lucky to have you.”
“The feeling is really very mutual,” she smiled knowingly.
*
On the plane ride home, she and Callie were having a giggle fit. Every time it seemed to stop, it restarted because neither of them could hold it in. One of them would think about whatever it was that was so funny, but they wouldn’t share what it was. She had a hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes, and she was shaking as she tried to stop. Harry couldn’t get a straight answer as to why it was happening.
Callie kept snickering, clapping like a seal, hiccupping, and restarting the laughter all over again every time she snorted. She tucked her face into Harry’s chest, and he felt absolutely miserable as they had their inside joke between them.
“My cheeks hurt,” she gasped and pressed her hands to her face to quell the pain. Had she ever laughed that hard because of Harry? He wasn’t sure. God, it really felt like he was losing her and it was so ridiculous of his mind to play such an evil trick on him. She fanned her eyes. “Sorry, baby,” she giggled softly once more.
“Sweetheart—” Callie began, his breath mostly laughter and air.
“I’m not speaking to you for the rest of the flight,” she shook her head and looked at Harry as he faced forward stoically. His hand rested on her lap; his eyes fixated on the little screen on the back of the seat in front of him with some movie he didn’t see the beginning of and hadn’t a clue what was going on.
“Did they stop?” Asher called.
“Oh, don’t make them start again,” Niall groaned.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m not speaking to Kian for the rest of the trip.”
“Who?” Almost everyone on the plane answered instinctively. She shook her head and looked up at Harry’s stoic expression. “You alright there, baby?” She whispered quietly.
He nodded, slipped on his headphones, and tilted his head back against the seat. She frowned, squeezed his hand in her lap and glanced out the window.
“Sweetheart, do you have snacks?” Lang asked. She nodded, reached beneath her seat for her carry on and dug out the snacks she had buried beneath her spare outfit in case of an emergency. Harry exhaled loudly and she pouted more.
“Baby?” She asked.
“M’fine, kitten. Jus’ tired.”
She nodded, grabbed the plane blanket in her bag that she used for travel and draped it over herself and she looked at Harry expectantly. “Do you want to share my blanket?” She asked.
Harry sighed heavily. Almost like he was irritated with her. Maybe he was. She felt terrible, but she really hoped all her secrets would be worth it. She tucked herself toward Harry; rested her head against his chest. “I love you, Harry Styles,” she reminded him quietly.
He didn’t say anything for a moment; his hand rubbed along her hip bone. Then he kissed the top of her head, his lips rested against her temple. “I love you too, Rookie.”
*
Everyone is here.
Niall sent the text about half an hour ago and she was planning to leave in the next few minutes. Harry was quiet and sour. He felt terrible and she knew it was her fault but she really hoped it would be worth it and that he wouldn’t be upset.
But she was very wrong.
“Kitten… I don’t… I don’t really feel like going out tonight,” he was already dressed, he was sitting on the sofa and rubbing his hands on his thighs.
“Oh, please Harry! It’s your birthday! It will be fun!” She smiled hoping she didn’t sound too eager or excited to leave. The last thing she wanted to do was spoil the surprise. Just a few small fibs to make his day special. “Just the two of us you know? A quick dinner. I promise.”
“But s’my birthday and if s’jus’ the two of us, can’t we stay here? I feel like ‘ve not even seen you lately,” he reminded her with a mumbled, forlorn look.
She frowned. “I was with you almost exclusively for the last seventy-two hours.”
“Yeah, but it was a whirlwind and… I don’t know. I missed you. S’hard on an away trip. When we were home y’were busy working and busy with Callie…” His friend’s name tasted like vinegar in his mouth.
She blinked, took a deep breath, hoping for the best. “Harry, I’d really like to take you out to eat and spoil you. You spoil me all the time I just really want to return the favor.”
“Well… can’t we do it another night? I’d really rather jus’ be spoiled with a movie and kisses,” he muttered.
She stared at him for a moment. He swore he saw her swallow hard, like she was trying to keep from crying—he’d seen it before. But Harry couldn’t possibly understand why. All he wanted was to lay in bed and hold her close until it was too warm. Before he could read into her saddened look, she replaced it with her pretty, genuine, lovely smile that warmed him to his core. “Of course, baby. It’s your birthday,” she took a deep breath. “Just let me get changed into something comfy. You pick a movie,” she leaned down to press a kiss on his cheek and then she headed to the bedroom.
Harry was still a little upset and uncomfortable. He didn’t know why she didn’t want to spend the night in. They loved their nights in together. It was so much fun to make out with her until his lips hurt and giggle over silly movies. It just seemed so unfair she wasn’t happy with him.
Within minutes of her exit, Harry was scrolling to find a rom-com, and his phone started to ring and of course, of course, it was Callie. “I was wondering if y’were going t’call t’wish me a happy birthday or if y’were jus’ going t’ask m’girlfriend t’relay the message,” he mumbled, irritation thick in his voice.
“Why aren’t you going out to eat with her? She was really looking forward to it,” he said instead of saying happy birthday to his so-called best friend.
Harry felt his blood bubble in his veins. Somehow all his blood felt like ice and hot lava was coursing through him at the same time. “She called you?” In the mere three minutes she left the room? Was it that unbearable, that insufferable to spend time with Harry suddenly that she had to call Kian Calloway to complain about it?
What the fuck?
“Yeah, because—”
“What the fuck is your problem Calloway?” He snapped. He stood up and paced. If they were on the ice, Harry would have had a hard time keeping himself in check. Asher would have probably intervened and shoved them apart. Niall would have held him back too.
“My problem? Harry you’re—”
“You’ve been all over her for over a week. She’s been texting you nonstop and talking ‘bout you nonstop. What is that? She’s my girlfriend and m’sick of it. She won’t leave me for you if s’what you’re thinking and I’d sooner kill you than let that happen. She seems t’think she can’t do better than the likes of your friendship but do me a fucking favor as your friend and jus’ back off.”
“Jesus Christ Harry, you’re so fucking stupid it’s a miracle she’s with you in the first place,” he growled over the phone. “Did you think that maybe, just maybe your angelic, perfect, sweet, girlfriend that you claim to love so much is throwing you a fucking surprise party to celebrate you?”
It was like all the pieces of a puzzle Harry didn’t know he was putting together slammed into place. Of course. Of course.
God he was an idiot. Harry closed his eyes so hard he thought his eyelids might burst open from the sheer force. His stomach dropped like he was on a roller coaster. He sat almost immediately on the arm of the couch and took a deep breath. The pugnacious feeling he had seconds before dissipated into nothingness. He glanced down the hall to see if she was still in the bedroom and, or, if she had heard him talking at all. “No…” he shook his head. “Fuck,” he whispered. “No, I didn’t think of that at all.”
“You have some fucking nerve, Styles. I would never do that to her. While I do love her, more importantly, I love her for you. And even though you clearly are going through it, you’re my best friend. Even if you’re a fucking dick.”
“Ah…” he winced and pinched between his eyes wondering how he could have been so blinded by jealousy to not see it coming. Of course it made sense. So much more sense than Callie trying to weasel his way into their relationship. “Yeah…” now he had a headache for an entirely new reason, and it was his own bloody fault.
“Will you just get fucking down here please? And acting fucking surprised, asshole.”
“Yeah… yeah, be there soon,” he mumbled and rubbed his hand over his face again. He hung up the phone and hurried down the hall to the bedroom. He knocked on the door and tried to think fast on his feet how he could get the evening back on track. “Kitten, y’okay?”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah… just a second.”
“Rookie,” he tried to open the door, but it was locked. “I was thinking it over and I was kinda rude. If y’still want t’go out, I’d really like to.”
There was a sniffle behind the door and Harry thought that maybe he should just leave the house and walk straight into oncoming traffic. Who needed a birthday when he upset the love of his life? “We don’t have to,” she said softly.
“Bunny, open the door, please,” he begged jiggling the handle slightly. It was very quiet for a second and then the metallic click of the lock echoed loudly between the walls. Harry pushed the door out of the way and he frowned. The poor thing looked distraught. “Oh Bunny, m’sorry,” he frowned and wrapped her up in his arms quick.
“No, it’s okay,” she sniffled and tried her hardest to keep the tears at bay, but Harry knew it was hurting her more than she could describe. “I should have asked what you wanted to do. It wasn’t fair of me—”
“No, no s’not okay, kitten,” he murmured and kissed the side of her head. “Y’were trying t’do a nice thing for me and I ruined it. M’being a proper idiot. Y’look so pretty all dressed up and m’being selfish,” he rubbed up and down her back. “And now I made y’upset, s’jus’ not nice,” he cupped behind her neck and kissed her temple again. “M’really sorry, Bunny. I hope y’can forgive me.”
She snorted. “You don’t have to be forgiven, Harry… it’s just…” she swallowed. “I just thought that we could—”
He didn’t want to spoil that he knew about the surprise. “Rookie, m’sorry. Please let me jus’ fix it. Let’s go out.”
“Kian called you, didn’t he?”
How she didn’t hear him screaming at his friend on the phone was a mystery. He pressed his lips together and was silent for a minute. She didn’t speak either. After he paused, he pulled her away from him and held her at arm’s length. He smiled gently at her, cupped the sides of her face and kissed her softly. He slid his thumbs across her cheeks brushing the tears out of the way. “I don’t know who that is,” he murmured. She giggled, a little tearily, but definitely happier. “Jus’ take your time t’fix your pretty make up that I ruined and we’ll go, yeah?” He asked.
She nodded. “You’re sure?”
“I shouldn’t have been so selfish, kitten. M’sorry.”
She shook her head. “I just wanted to surprise—”
“Shh, baby. I’m sorry. I was a jealous, hot-headed mess. M’jus’…” he sighed. “I think you’re the best thing s’ever happened t’me and I’ve done a lot of not-so-great things in relationships. I need t’be better. Y’mean everything t’me and I’d be lost without you, kitten.”
She smiled. “It’s your birthday, I’m supposed to compliment you a lot.”
“Rookie, y’have no idea how special you are t’me. I never need a compliment as long as I live.”
“Well,” she shrugged and headed back into the bathroom. “I’m still going to give you a million today.”
He smirked. Relieved she wasn’t in love with his friend. Relieved that the jealous little monster inside him realized how ridiculous he was being so he could celebrate his birthday with the prettiest, perfect woman he loved so much. “That’s why you are the best part of me, Rookie.”
--
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From Me/warnings: SMUT!!!!! SEXTRA 🤭 some fluffiness too of course, but mostly just Harry being feral for his pretty bird
Summary: Harry is tired and cold from a long day and just wants to be warmed up by his best girl.
Construction in January was brutal. Harry was cold. Tired. Hungry.
And most importantly, he missed his favorite teacher.
Harry turned his car off and rolled his neck back and forth before he got out to head inside. He could see the light coming from the living room. It was already so dark outside. The light looked almost like a beacon of warmth. In the winter months, Harry often worked later in the day; it was easier to work with the most daylight and in the warmth (especially on behalf of his crew). He missed his job next door to the elementary school. Seeing the kids (and Miss Bee) at recess always brightened his day. He also missed going to her classroom after school and cutting up paper and laminating for the next day.
But mostly, he just missed her.
“Hi Harry!” She called cheerfully as he opened the door. The light in the living room had nothing on her voice, she was so warm. Whatever she was cooking smelled delicious, and he was overcome with how lucky he was to have her. Even when he was exhausted and tired, she made everything so much better. She was magic.
Her voice was echo-y. Harry didn’t know why. He kicked his shoes off, stepped into the half-bathroom right by the entryway. He washed his hands in warm water and thought about how nice a hot shower would feel after dinner. Maybe he could convince her to join him.
“Hi Miss Bee, did y’have a good day?” He asked over the sound of the faucet. The kids had a half-day today, so she was able to get a lot done at school and come home on time. Harry dried his hands, turned the corner to find her half under the kitchen sink beneath the cabinet. He stopped suddenly, staring at her legs in her lounge-around-the-house outfit, one fuzzy sock was sliding off her foot, and he desperately wanted to slide it back up her ankle. Her lower back rested on the ledge of the cabinet, but she must have found that quite uncomfortable since there was another towel cushioning her position. “What are y’doing?”
Her phone was open to a video. There was a selection of her pink tools from school around her. More towels, small puddles of water. All the cleaning supplies they stored beneath the sink were neatly lined up against the bottom of the oven.
“I’m almost done.”
Harry thought his heart would shatter his ribcage if it beat any harder or faster because in a matter of seconds, he knew exactly what she was doing. He was floored, overwhelmed, and he loved her so much it was almost difficult to stand and breathe. “Done with what, kitten?” he asked softly.
“Well,” she clinked something beneath the sink. Her voice was still echo-y. “I figured if I’m the reason the drain was clogged—”
“You’re not the reason, bird.”
“Of course I’m the reason Harry. I had a literal hole in my ceiling, and you had to insulate my bedroom. And let’s not forget the broken window, the leaky shower, or the hot water heater. I am a curse for homeownership.”
“Those weren’t—”
“Anyway, I know how exhausted you’ve been and it’s cold and whatnot, so I figured the last thing you’d want to do is try and fix something when you get home. I had some time today. Yeah, it probably took me five times longer than it would have taken you, but now you don’t have to do it, right? So that’s good. You should probably double-check my work, but the water is still off so you don’t even have to do it right now if you don’t want to. Honestly, it’s a little embarrassing how long it took me to find the little shut off valve,” she stated. “But I think I unclogged it! How cool is that? It was super gross, but I had to clean this little trap thing which was really the worst part—and you know how I am about cleaning, so I really made sure there wasn’t anything left when—”
Harry crouched down, grabbed her ankles and pulled her until the upper half of her body was out from under the sink.
“Hey!” Her cute eyebrows bunched together, little bits of her hair that had fallen from the bun at the top of her head and fell in front of her pretty eyes. She dropped the tools she was holding; she was wearing a pair of disposable gloves—she probably bought two boxes. One for school so she could clean and hopefully not get sick with all the kindergarten germs. She used them at home for when she made chicken for dinner and apparently to unclog the kitchen sink.
Without missing a beat Harry knelt over her, his knees straddling her hips and he leaned down and kissed her. He cupped her face, his fingers sliding into her hair around her ears. He pulled her to sit until he knelt back onto his heels. “Well, hi,” she giggled when he pulled away.
“Y’didn’t need t’do this,” he stated softly and stroked her face with the back of his fingers. “I would have done it.”
“I know, but I like to help.”
“Oh, I know, Bird,” he rolled his eyes. “I thought we agreed that—”
“I just wanted to make your life easier for today. You seemed so frustrated when you left and I didn’t think it would be that hard,” she promised. “It seemed like something I should know how to do,” she shrugged.
Harry kissed her again. “You’re so lovely,” he mumbled and moved so he wasn’t straddling her anymore. He continued kissing her and pulled her toward him, so they were both standing. His hands slid down to her waist, and he circled his thumbs on her hips for a moment before they went lower, brushing the outside of her thighs until he caught the back of her legs just above her knees.
Harry held her up for only a second before he placed her on his kitchen island. He pulled her sweatpants off her legs before she could blink.
“Harry—” she gasped, her cheeks turning red. At some point in that fall, she told Harry she was thinking of donating those red pants she wore the day he met her. He insisted she didn’t. Or offered to replace them. But at the very least, at least he knew she would always blush the same color.
“Do y’know how hot y’look?” He murmured spreading her thighs apart, gripping them tightly so his thumbs dug into her skin. He dipped his head and kissed the inner part of her thighs, making her gasp again. “Fixing something t’make m’life easier?”
“I-I… n-no. I don’t—”
Harry tugged her butt toward the edge of counter. He pulled her legs around his hips and leaned in to kiss her again, her head falling back against the counter as he kissed her. “You’re m’favorite thing in the world,” he murmured against her mouth. “Y’have no idea how special you are.”
Her breathing felt erratic, as did her heartrate, Harry kissed her again, a little rougher than normal, his teeth scraping against her lip. The scruff of his incoming beard scraped against her skin. He felt like he was everywhere. His body was warm despite being out in the cold. God, he was hot. “Harry, I made—”
“It can wait,” he mumbled against her lips. “I don’t know how t’thank you most of the time. For being so special. For making m’life so whole,” he kissed down her throat, across her collarbone even though there was a T-shirt that said Under Construction in his way of touching her skin. “Take your gloves off,” he ordered. He heard the snap of the nylon material and the small flop of them hitting the floor behind him. “M’so completely in love with you. And I keep falling in love with you. S’a bit crazy. How d’you do that?”
“Harry,” she whispered as his lips came back to her mouth. “I—”
“Jus’ let me take care of you,” he begged and kissed over the T-shirt. His head stopped between her thighs and he put his hands against the back of her knees and held her so she was almost totally exposed and open to him. His warm gaze against the center of her, where her underwear was keeping the last bit of her from him.
“It really wasn’t a big deal. I wish I could do more—”
He shook his head, dropped one of her legs and pulled the fabric out of the way. Harry’s eyes ran over her; his gaze was so hot it felt like she was being set on fire. “Y’don’t have t’do anything,” he murmured, his lips dropping to her inner thigh. “Y’do so much. All the time.”
It was no big deal though. She didn’t mind helping Harry out. It was the least she could do, truly. He did so much for the house. And her house; especially with a tenant, she had to make sure it was livable. “But not for you—”
“Bird, shut up,” he grumbled and then wrapped his mouth around her pussy.
She arched instantly, Harry’s hands slid down the back of her legs to cradle beneath her butt, and he practically nuzzled further into the apex of her thighs. “Harry!” she gasped. This was the kitchen counter, and they had friends and family over constantly who would eat food off it.
And she was going to come all over his face because of his tongue right on top of the granite. He groaned, long and low while never pausing the rhythm of his tongue on her folds. He dipped his tongue into her as much as he could but knew the best and easiest way to make her come was to keep flicking and massaging his tongue over her swollen, pretty clit.
“Y’taste so good, kitten,” he murmured as he pulled back long enough to take a deep breath. He didn’t need to breathe; he had plenty of air and her natural scent seemed like pure oxygen. “Don’t even need dinner,” he mumbled.
“Harry,” she whined.
His lips sucked her clit again and his tongue slid across her sensitive skin. He forgot about how cold January was, or why he was tired moments ago. He definitely wasn’t hungry anymore. And of course he didn’t have to miss her any longer. He wanted to stay with his mouth on her pretty pussy for the rest of his life. She didn’t need to work. Neither did he. They could just spend forever with his mouth between her legs, his tongue dipping inside her, and lapping at her clit until she—
“Fuck,” she croaked, sliding her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer to her while she shook with pleasure. Harry groaned and continued sucking and licking her up until she slumped against the hard counter. While she tried to catch her breath, Harry continued licking her making sure to get every last drop of her on his tongue. Once satisfied with his work, he pressed a bunch of kisses on both sides of her thighs.
“Y’shouldn’t swear like that Miss Bee,” he teased. “S’not very kindergarten-y of you,” he winked.
She rolled her eyes and slumped backward again. “You’re insane.”
“’Bout you, Bird,” he smiled and slid his pants down his legs.
“Harry, we put food on this counter…” her cheeks were the same pretty red he loved so much. But she couldn’t take her eyes off his movements. Harry had long, lean, sinewy legs that made her practically shy to look at him.
He shrugged, pulled his shirt over his head and yanked her toward him and his warm muscular body to seal his lips over his mouth again. The shyness she felt of ogling his very pretty body continued. He was so lovely, and she felt like she didn’t deserve to look at him. “Can’t be germier than a kindergarten classroom during flu season,” he murmured. She snorted while kissing him. He smiled against her mouth. “Let me make you feel good, Bird.”
“You just did.”
“Mm, I did, didn’t I?” He grinned devilishly. He knew exactly what he was doing and she couldn’t blame him.
“Harry, what about dinner—”
He turned to the stove and turned it off. “C’mon, kitten. Can’t y’help me with this,” he murmured grabbing the base of his cock and pressing it, and rubbing against her clit, freshly licked and swollen from coming so hard against his tongue. “If y’don’t want to—” He started and pulled back slightly.
“No, no!” She hurried and reached between them to grab at him making him moan. She pressed the head of his dick back to her wet center. “I just thought you might be hungry or—”
“I was, but I didn’t know m’pretty bird was going t’surprise me,” he pressed his face into her neck. “Y’looked so hot fixing the sink for me. I didn’t know I could get so turned on by that. I couldn’t take it another second.”
“That’s why you dragged me out from the cabinet?”
“Kitten, you’re wearing m’shirt,” he reminded her, slipping his fingers beneath the hem and scraping his fingertips against her stomach; it felt so good she thought she would explode. “I didn’t have a choice,” he kissed along the curve of her neck. “Please,” he begged. “Please, please, please,” his voice was so low and gravelly as she continued sliding his cock between her folds.
She couldn’t let him beg. Not really. He made her come in minutes with his tongue. He deserved and orgasm that was half as good as she felt. She guided him lower and gasped as he sank into her. He groaned. “Perfect,” he buried his face into her neck. “God,” he moaned. He grabbed the outside of her hips and pulled her toward him, thrusting hard into her. She whimpered.
She wrapped her arms around his back and gasped with each deep stroke of his hips. She barely felt any pressure from the counter he was holding her so tight. “I love you so much,” he kissed and licked down the curve of her skin. He knew he couldn’t leave any marks that her kindergarteners were sure to see. He didn’t want Louis, Niall, or Eleanor to see them either. “I love this so much,” his breath was heavy against her skin. “Baby,” he croaked. “I need you so much.”
It made her entire body boil to hear him so needy. Because he didn’t need her. He didn’t need her at all. He was capable of taking care of his whole house, himself, herself, a whole construction crew… he didn’t need her at all but he did. It made her ache all over.
She was so soft, warm, good it made him dizzy. “Please tell me you’re gonna come again, Bird. Please, please, please,” the neediness was so unbelievably delicious she could hardly think straight, see straight, she was only vaguely sure she could hear him begging. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he didn’t change pace once, something she didn’t have to tell him. Something that he intrinsically knew not to do. How could he keep this up while he was so tired? He was doing ninety-five percent of the work and all she could do was gasp and moan about how good and deep he felt.
“Harry,” she cried.
“God, yes, baby,” he moaned again. “That’s it, come all over me.”
So, what choice did she have?
This orgasm felt like it lasted twice as long as the last and that one lasted for at least six minutes, maybe years. She couldn’t really be sure. Harry yanked her closer, grunted and pulled himself out of her and finished all over her/his shirt. “Fuck,” he whispered, pressing his face against her collarbone.
She smiled and pressed her lips to the shell of his ear. “That’s not very kindergarten-y of you,” she whispered back.
He shook silently with laughter. “I love you so much,” he ignored her little joke.
“I love you too,” she answered. “You gotta clean me up though,” she giggled.
He pulled back; his hair was a bit of a mess thanks to her. His cheeks flushed, his smile deliciously beautiful, his dimples on full display. He tugged the shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. “Lay down,” he ordered again.
She giggled. “Harry!” She gasped as he pulled her legs apart again.
“Y’said clean y’up, Bird,” he reminded her. “Jus’ doing what y’tell me too. M’good at following directions,” he winked and disappeared from her vision again dipped behind the height of the counter once more.
Dinner could wait till tomorrow. They could order pizza or something if needed.
“Go easy on me,” she asked, smiling at the ceiling above her and she pressed her hands to her cheeks to make sure her skin hadn’t melted off from being so warm.
“M’at your service Miss Bee,” he mumbled into her inner thigh.
--
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From Me/Warnings: there is a very slight food sensitive/poor relationship with food moment about halfway through. But otherwise, def a bit of angst but not as bad as the last couple parts. Just Harry being A Man™️
Summary: “Thank you. Please… order room service and do whatever you want to be comfy and happy.”
“Stay here with you, then?” He grinned.
“You don’t have to pretend here, there’s no one… to impress right now. My mom’s probably, practically on her knees for Spencer right now.”
“M’not pretending, Beautiful."
“You ready, Beautiful?”
No. Not even a little. If she had another year to plan, she still wouldn’t have been ready. The only goodthing about the rehearsal and welcome dinner was that Spencer and Dani weren’t going to be there. But that’s where the goodness ended.
(Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Seeing Elijah and Mia would be really nice.)
Harry carried boxes for her into the venue as if she asked him to pick up his niece or a box of feathers. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest and ignored her directive to stay in the car and just dropped her and the stuff off and let her deal with this.
“M’not going t’let y’lift that box again,” he rolled his eyes. He was already mad that she had brought it outside her apartment to put it in her car when he came to park at her place so they could take one car to the long-awaited wedding weekend. When he saw her struggling to carry it the last few feet to the parking lot, he hardly had his car parked before he was out and grabbing it from her. “It’ll also look really suspicious that your boyfriend isn’t carrying a heavy box.”
“Spencer wouldn’t,” she muttered quietly, before she could stop herself. She hoped Harry hadn’t heard.
“Well, thank fuck m’not Spencer,” he grumbled back. Her face felt warm as she got the door for Harry who refused to enter before her. Instead, he held the box and propped the door open with his back for her to pass through. She rolled her eyes, but he smiled sweetly at her and tilted his head toward the room.
Elijah and Mia grinned so brightly at her entrance. After she had relayed all relevant information out to Harry about her brother and his future wife, Harry finally matched the pictures on the bookshelf to her makeshift family.
It wasn’t a bad fit—hence why he hadn’t really noticed in the first place. Elijah had the same coloring, skin, hair, and eye-coloring just like her. The shape of their features wasn’t all that similar upon closer inspection, but with a quick look Harry thought they could be biological siblings.
A woman who looked just like Elijah (but not the pretty girl he came with) eyed them suspiciously as they entered from across the room. Especially unlike the sweet girl he spent the last three months getting to know, there was so much more anger in the woman’s expression and body language. Other than an almost glare, she hardly even acknowledged her own daughter’s presence.
“Thank God you’re here,” Mia said with relief under her breath and wrapped her arms around his favorite girl.
At that moment, a man a good bit older than himself walked by. “Hi sweetheart,” her dad said almost perfunctorily and kissed the top of her head. “You must be Harry,” he stated and quickly shook his hand. Harry nodded politely. Then before they could further the introduction, he headed across the room toward the woman who was the love of his life.
Harry couldn’t imagine being married to someone who could hate the sweet angel at his side.
“Hi Harry,” Mia said excitedly practically bouncing on her toes as he set the box down. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
This was so much better. Harry matched Mia’s excitement as much as he could with a smile directed at her. “Hi,” he greeted and gave her a hug. “Congratulations. Thank you for allowing me t’come t’your wedding.”
“Thanks for keeping my sister company,” Elijah grinned and shook Harry’s hand.
The greetings were clearly supposed to be short, and she wasn’t going to let them extend any longer than needed be. “Yup, thank you, thank you. And thank you for bringing that box in… I’ll see you at the hotel?” She said and all but pushed Harry toward the door again. He chuckled quietly at her urgency. He waved over his shoulder to appease her and without looking rude toward the only two people’s opinions of him that mattered at all.
“You’re not coming to the dinner?” Mia pouted, making her pause with frustration as she glanced anxiously around the room. “You can totally come; it’s more buffet style so there will be plenty of food.”
He could see the anxiety wash over her two-times over. Guilt immediately followed the anxiety. Harry smirked, grabbed her hand from his hip as she tried to keep shoving him toward the door, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We’re minimizing all interactions,” he winked. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers soothingly. “Lemme grab the other box and then I’ll come back in an hour t’pick you up.”
“You don’t need to bring the other box in. It’s lighter and I can—”
“We can take her back to the hotel,” Elijah shrugged. “If that’s easier for you,” he said to his sister.
“Unless you want Harry to pick you up,” Mia grabbed Elijah’s hand and held it tight in silent warning to not mess this up for his sister. He appreciated Mia’s thoughtfulness. But he couldn’t believe how young the pair looked and yet they were still so very much in love.
Was Harry ever that young? Did he ever want to be married when he was Elijah’s age?
Maybe if he had met her…
She looked at Harry apologetically. “Please excuse Mia, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Dani’s here!” Her mom called from the window. “Oh, she brought Spencer too!”
Her face paled. “They’re here?” She whispered.
Harry pulled her closer toward him, just a step. Like there was a lion loose in the venue and not a person. He had a good mind to shove her behind him just in case there was a wild animal attack.
Mia pinched the bridge of her nose and looked completely exhausted. “Your mom must have invited them,” Mia sounded agitated as she spoke to the pair of siblings. “I’m so sorry, babe. I thought—”
“Don’t apologize,” she said hurriedly. She managed to smile, which was more of a grimace. It was clear she didn’t want to make a scene for Mia. Even though Harry was pretty certain Mia would have loved her to make a scene.
“Maybe mom should divorce dad so she can date Spencer,” Elijah muttered and kissed the side of Mia’s head. “I promise I told her they weren’t to come tonight,” he said to his sister.
“It’s okay,” she swallowed hard, her voice was quiet.
Harry smiled sadly at Mia and Elijah who were as upset as they were about the situation. But then he checked on his pretty date again to make sure she was doing okay.
It was very clear that she was not.
Mia frowned, recognizing the same problem as Harry. “They were not supposed to come here,” she whispered to Elijah. Like she wanted him to kick them out. It was just not a good moment. It was impossible. What could they do that wouldn’t cause a scene?
“Mom probably—”
“Harry, let’s get the box,” she suggested from beside him. Quickly. At once she practically tugged Harry, silently begging to get her out of there.
“Sure, Beautiful,” he hurried soon after, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze.
She headed outside through the opposite door furthest away from where her ex and cousin were entering. A loud greeting from her mother, that her only daughter didn’t receive, was given as Dani and Spencer waved to everyone like they were royalty.
Harry imagined her mind was practically back in her apartment as her body made way to the car. She released his hand in the doorway to walk even faster when he overheard Mia say to Elijah, “I don’t know what your mother sees in that prick.”
Harry smirked to himself sadly and watched her nearly sprint to the car in her pretty evening dress. She put a hand on back of her car and the other on her chest while she took deep breaths—kind of like when they went for runs.
He already knew, but he asked anyway. “Are you okay?” Harry asked softly. Of course she wasn’t.
“No,” she shook her head. Harry felt a little happy that she was telling him the truth. Even if it was an awful way for her to feel. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she admitted. “We were together for so long. And he…”
Harry pulled her toward him, kissed the top of her head and rubbed her spine up and down. “I can stay if y’want, kitten,” he murmured into her hair. Nothing would make him happier.
“No, I… I don’t want this to be about me. This is Mia and Elijah’s day.”
“They’re making it about them,” he shrugged.
“But I’m better than them,” she grumbled.
“Well God, Beautiful. S’about time y’noticed,” he chuckled. He pushed her back a bit, cupped her face and ran his thumb across her cheek.
“How do you know where to touch?” she mumbled and he felt the slightest tilt of her head, the pressure of her leaning into his palm.
“M’good at touching,” he winked.
She rolled her eyes, but he felt the heat through his hand from the color of pink cranberries dusting her cheeks. He once more thought he needed to fix that card he gave her ages ago about his favorite color.
“Thank you. Please… order room service and do whatever you want to be comfy and happy.”
“Stay here with you, then?” He grinned.
“You don’t have to pretend here, there’s no one… to impress right now. My mom’s probably, practically on her knees for Spencer right now.”
“M’not pretending, Beautiful,” he shrugged. He figured he’d have to say it a few times over. “I’d much prefer t’stay with you. Protect you.”
“I can handle it,” she said softly. “I’m going to have to, right?”
“Mm… but y’don’t have t’do it alone, Beautiful.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed. “I’ll be okay,” she shouldn’t push him away. There were only hours left in their fake relationship. She should have been soaking up every last second of Harry and his pretty face close to her. With getting ready for the wedding and all the help and events she would need to do over the next forty-eight hours, there were even fewer hours left with him because they wouldn’t really be together for a chunk of them.
“I know you’ll be okay, love,” his lips pressed to her temple, and he rested them there while he held her. He was sure if her mother were to look out here, she would have a comment on the display of affection that wouldn’t be given to Elijah or Dani in a million years.
He held her tighter.
“You are the strongest person I know,” he murmured. “But it doesn’t mean y’have t’be strong alone.”
She nodded against his chest, tightened her hold around his waist. “Thank you for doing this,” she whispered. “In case I forget to say it.”
“Y’don’t need t’thank me, Beautiful,” he whispered. “S’what fake boyfriends are for.”
*
Did you know about her mom?
She told me our senior year. I met her during our freshman year, right? It took her four years to tell me. It’s not something I could tell you.
He wasn’t blaming Niall. He was just surprised.
I think it’s easy for her to not say it because she was so young.
It’s awful. To feel that alone and unwanted.
It probably kills her mother for Elijah to love her so much.
Good.
Having a good time?
How was Harry supposed to answer that? Right now, she was all alone, with her ex, her cousin, her mother who didn’t love her, and the only two people who adored her were appropriately wrapped up in a love bubble.
He was miserable.
Part of him wanted to head back and park right outside the restaurant in case she needed him.
Just grand. He answered Niall instead.
You know… if you are in love with her, a wedding is a real romantic place to tell her…
🙄
Coward
I’m not a coward but I’m not going to… do that at her BROTHER’S wedding.
🐔
Go fuck yourself Niall.
</3
*
The click to the hotel door spooked him and he looked up in surprise.
She was returning from the rehearsal dinner very early. From the itinerary she shared with him, it was only just getting started. But as he watched her, the look of pure exhaustion in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. His heart caught in his throat and the sentence he had been speaking died on his lips as he watched her.
Her lower lip was jutted out and her eyes welled with tears. Harry could see them from across the room, that was how sad she felt that he could see it across the room. He thought he could have seen it from space.
Her shoulders were shaking.
Harry’s chest felt tight, he felt sick to his stomach because of her anguish.
She kicked her shoes off dropping back to her regular height. “I couldn’t even eat,” she mumbled dejectedly. “Not in front of them… I could feel my mom’s eyes on me and Spencer’s and all my aunts and everyone,” she sniffled. “Did you order anything? I’m so hungry. I don’t know how I’m going to do this tomorrow, and I know I have to. I just don’t know,” she looked so upset, like she had cried in the car on top of the tears that were wobbling on her lash line. She must have gotten a rideshare which also broke his heart. She had cried all by herself in a stranger’s car.
He wished she called him. He would have gotten her in a heartbeat. Harry was certain that she was about to start crying again—at any second.
Naturally, he was going to have to make it worse before it got better. Harry stared at her as she spoke and bit the inside of his lip. He didn’t want to say it, but he had to. He just knew it was going to make her feel worse and that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Hang on a second, Gem,” he said softly to his phone, tapped the screen, and started shifting to get up to comfort her.
If the hotel suddenly collapsed in on itself, she would have been eternally grateful. It would have put her out of the misery that was that weekend as well as this exact moment. She was completely mortified. “Oh my God, Harry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt your sister, I can come back—” Her hand was on the doorknob to exit; shoeless, sad, upset, broken. Harry dropped his muted phone on the bed and nearly ran the short distance to the door to slap it shut just as she opened it.
“S’jus’ Gem, kitten,” he hushed and put a hand on the side of her neck and coaxed her to turn back toward the room. “S’okay. Jus’ let me say goodbye and I’ll order us some food. I wasn’t expecting y’back so soon.”
Even though she wanted to die of embarrassment, Harry was very sweet. He seemed to genuinely care. “I couldn’t do it,” she mumbled, tears spilling over her cheeks silently. It was too late; she was entirely unable to hold back what happened and how she was feeling. “I felt so alone, and I couldn’t…” Harry never should have left her. He felt awful. “Mia told me to leave said she would tell everyone I was running a bridal errand.”
“Hey,” he shook his head. “Don’t cry.”
“Dani’s so pretty Harry.”
“Hey,” he repeated and reached for her face again. She pushed his hand away and she swallowed hard.
“—and it’s so obvious he’s so in love with her—”
“Can you please—” He cupped one side of her face ignoring her pushing against him.
“—Can’t stop touching her in these little ways that I begged—”
“Love, please—” She tried to push his hands away again but this time he held her in place. Her hands resting on his wrists as she tried to get away from him.
“—because she’s beautiful. So much more beautiful than I am—”
“Kitten—” She dropped to the edge of the bed, completely dejected. Harry stood between her knees, the dress bunching up a bit as he did. He held her face still and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“—and she’s perfect…and… and I’m just not! My mom is probably mad I’m nothing like Dani and I’m just a reminder I’m not her best friend either and I’ll never be her and I’ll never—”
“Beautiful, enough,” he said with a bit more authority. She stopped. Finally.
She sniffed and took a deep breath trying to remember that she couldn’t break down like this when they hadn’t even made it to the wedding yet. She took heart-wrenching, heaving breaths for a few moments while Harry stroked her cheeks and tears. He watched her duck her gaze from him while she tried to keep her emotion bottled up. “You’re on the phone with Gemma,” she reminded him. “I can go find something and—” She stood and moved way. But Harry pulled her back in by the wrist.
“No, come here. Gemma’s been dying to meet you,” he tugged her with him as he reached for his phone across the mattress.
“Harry, I can’t meet your sister when I’m a crying, disgusting—” But he picked up his phone and pulled her toward him in the same motion. He tugged her till she was between his legs (trapped, so to speak, which he liked the idea a lot more than he cared to admit) so she perched ever so slightly on his thigh. She was worried she was going to crush him by leaning on him and she shifted slightly trying to wrangle her way out of his hold. Instead, he reached around with his left arm and wrapped it around her waist, stilling her and her thoughts of trying to leave his body any further.
With his other hand, he unmuted his phone and held it out far in front of him to get them both in frame.
“Hey Gem, this is—”
“Oh my God, finally! It’s so nice to meet you!” The girl on the phone was gorgeous like Harry was and it was so utterly unfair that one family could have so much prettiness in it. For God’s sake, even the baby was more beautiful than her.
“Sorry I look—”
“Where’s the baby? We need a smile,” Harry interrupted and gave her hip a squeeze.
Gemma grinned without an ounce of pity in her eyes and brought the baby into view. “Do you know who that is?” She asked the little girl.
“Auntie Beh!”
Harry smirked. “Are you kidding, y’little brat?” He pouted at the camera. “Told you she loved y’more,” he shook his head and leaned in to press a kiss on the strap of her dress at the front of her shoulder.
She snorted, a smile coming to her lips despite how sad she looked. “Auntie is her first real word,” Gemma smiled just like Harry did. Just like the baby did. “Harry’s been showing her your picture when they hang out,” she explained.
She glanced at Harry. “Oh?”
He grinned. “Can’t say Uncle Harry. But auntie she can handle.”
“Auntie has better vowels,” Gemma reminded him.
“Mm. Traitor.”
“We’ll let you both go. Have fun tomorrow and take lots of pictures. I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look, love. Harry’s been talking about your dress, and your hair and makeup ideas all week!”
It was clear she was uncomfortable with the easy affection coming from his sister, someone that hardly knew her but clearly loved her as much as Harry and his niece did too. “Bye Gem, bye baby girl. I love you so, so much even though y’don’t love me as much.”
“Uncle Harry is so dramatic, hmm?” Gemma winked and waved as she hung up.
“You talk about me?” She whispered.
“Course,” he smiled. “I’ve jus’ spent the last three months getting t’know you. S’like m’favorite subject. Think m’an expert now.”
She swallowed. “Oh,” she mumbled. She wiped the back of her hand across her cheek and Harry tossed his phone toward the head of the bed, it slid off his pillow and he tilted his head at her.
He gave her hip another squeeze. “Y’look really pretty, Beautiful,” he hummed. “S’a really nice color on you.”
She bit the inside of her cheek—prior to seeing Dani and Spencer, she thought the light pink dress looked nice as well. But her mom had said the straps were too thin for her shoulders and that she should have worn a taller heel to elongate her legs. But Harry thought she was pretty. So that was enough for now. “Thank you.”
“What are you hungry for?”
By Harry’s estimates, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast because she claimed she was too nervous to eat at lunchtime. The poor thing had to be starving, and Harry wanted to get her whatever she wanted. “Just a salad will be fine.”
“No pasta?” He asked without censoring his thoughts.
She shook her head. Immediately, she was unable to speak, her throat closing in as her eyes welled with a fresh batch of tears.
“Hey kitten,” he said very softly. He cupped the side of her face letting his thumb skim over her cheek. “M’going t’order the salad y’want because I know you’re nervous and y’think that having salad is a better choice or something but y’don’t need t’feel that way. Y’could eat pasta for every meal of the day for the rest of your life if y’wanted.”
Her frown deepened and he could see her trying not to cry as hard as she possibly could. “I think you’re pretty stunning whether y’eat pasta or salad or cookies or anything. I jus’ like seeing you smile, yeah?” He grinned gently at her and brushed his thumb over her lip. “But I can see you’re sad, so can y’cry please? Get it all out because it’s safe here,” he promised. “M’not going t’tell anyone.”
As they got to the deeper stuff of their fake relationship, she was more emotional (completely warranted in Harry’s eyes). So of course, once more, she burst into tears instantly at his suggestion. She buried her face against his shoulder. He cupped the back of her head and rocked very gently as he shifted her from his leg and stood up to comfort her. “I know baby,” he cooed very softly. “I know,” he tugged her back with him, toward the head of the bed. Carefully he all but draped her, dress and all, across his body so he could hold her more comfortably. “I know,” he sighed and kissed her temple.
And maybe, because she had told him absolutely everything there was to know about herself, he really did know.
*
Come to our room! Elijah texted her.
Bring Harry too! Mia added.
She and Harry were sitting on the bed beside one another. He put on Alice in Wonderland while they ate pasta, salad, and a dessert so decadent she didn’t have the heart to tell her brother that there was no way his wedding cake would compare.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
“I’d be happy to,” he assured her. “It’ll be fun, let’s go,” he stood and held his hand out.
“I should change.”
“Don’t,” he shook his head, snagged his keycard off the nightstand and pulled her toward the door. “Y’look pretty. Y’dress needs t’be seen.”
“It’s just Elijah and Mia,” she reminded him.
He shrugged and tugged the door shut behind them. They walked down the hall in the hotel-issued slippers, her fancier dress, his jeans and T-shirt. “What room?” He asked.
“Uh… 238,” she gestured. Harry knocked and her brother answered.
“We’re glad you came!” Mia called.
Elijah smiled and gestured for them to enter. “Don’t you guys want time alone or have your friends who want to hang out?” She asked.
Elijah shrugged. “I just wanted to hang out with my sister, is that alright?”
She nodded. His eyes darted to Harry and Harry smirked to himself. “How was the dinner?” Harry asked. Mia grabbed seltzers from their fridge. She was still in her dress and Elijah was in a dress shirt and slacks. They forewent the slippers, but it felt like Harry was underdressed.
“Fine,” Mia shrugged. “I wish I could have left with you.”
She snorted and sat on the sofa against the window. Harry fell into the seat beside her, draped his arm across the back of the couch. He fiddled with the end of her hair brushing his thumb over the soft piece that felt like a brand-new paint brush.
“Are y’excited? Or are y’ready for it t’be over?” Harry asked with a wry smile.
“I wish we eloped,” Mia sighed. Elijah chuckled.
The pretty girl beside him was smiling very gently. Like if she smiled too much, it would hurt. He looked at Mia again. “We got room service,” he explained. “Y’should try the chocolate caramel coffee pretzel bars.”
“Say that three times fast,” Elijah snorted.
“I know, but we had some and I had t’commit it t’memory,” he explained with a chuckle. “They were good, huh, Beautiful?” He dropped her hair and squeezed her shoulder.
“Really good,” she agreed quietly.
Mia looked at Elijah pointedly. “We didn’t invite them to the dress rehearsal.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to explain or apologize. It’s your wedding and they’re family—”
“No, she’s family. Barely. You are family,” Mia said knowingly.
She glanced at them briefly and then looked away. “It’s okay,” she promised. “I was just a little overwhelmed.”
“We’re not mad at all,” Mia frowned, shaking her head quickly. “If I were you, I would have punched him and probably pulled her hair. I had a good mind to do it myself,” she stated proudly. Harry felt his heart cracking for her as he smiled at her soon to be sister-in-law. “I strongly suggested that they not be invited,” Mia explained.
Elijah nodded. “It’s true. She told Mom and everything.”
“You did?” The disbelief in her voice was heartbreaking. Like she truly couldn’t believe her brother and sister-in-law loved her that much.
“Of course we did, you’re my sister, for God’s sake,” it was Mia that said it which made her straighten a bit.
“What did she say?” She asked. Mia’s face paled a bit, but she recovered quickly. It was clearly a conversation she didn’t want to have. Elijah looked away briefly. “Just tell me.”
“It’s not worth it,” Elijah promised. “Why do you want to know?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I sometimes think I make this stuff up—that it’s not that bad and then I feel like I should be more grateful for being part of a family. I’m lucky I wasn’t put into foster care.”
“You don’t make shit up. You don’t need to know. It was bad. That’s it.”
“Did she ask you to uninvite me?” She wondered. “Said I wasn’t actually your sister and I didn’t need to be invited?”
The silence was so loud, Harry wanted to run out of the room. “What the fuck,” he whispered.
“I told her you were getting a plus one and she said that would be in very ill-form or whatever dumb thing Mom says about you dating so soon after Spencer. So I said, then Dani can’t bring Spencer, and she got all bent,” Elijah rolled his eyes. “I told Mom she could be uninvited if she had an issue with you bringing Harry,” he explained.
“There’s not a world in which we would have our wedding without you,” Mia promised. “Eloping or not.”
She nodded and looked at her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry you had to have that conversation.”
“Jesus Christ,” Harry muttered.
“Can we chat in the other room?” Elijah asked, holding out his hand for his sister to take. Harry watched her follow behind Elijah to the other room in the suite.
Mia sighed. “Their mom is the worst person I know,” she grumbled. “Elijah talks about her constantly. She’s his best friend, he looks up to her, everything.”
Harry grinned. “I figured.”
“She’s amazing,” she stated.
“I gathered,” he nodded. He leaned toward Mia and grinned gently. “I’m positive m’in love with her—but I haven’t told her yet.”
Mia beamed, her excitement bubbling like it did when they met earlier that evening. “Oh Harry, that’s,” she put a hand on her chest. “Spencer was horrible to her. I don’t know what she told you. You’re so lucky,” she said knowingly. “I love her so much,” Mia’s voice cracked as she was overwhelmed with emotion. “I don’t know how those two turned out so well with a mother like that… please tell her,” she begged. “She is so special, and she doesn’t see it. It’s painful and Elijah and I can only do so much. You know, we were going to beg her to move in with us—but she got her own place and then she came to us with this idea to find a date that she was going to find online and then she talked to Niall… and Harry—” she swallowed. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Mia, I don’t need t’be thanked. Falling in love with her was the easiest thing in the world,” he assured her.
The door from the next room opened again and she returned, that look of preparing to cry or having just cried was all over face. Harry stood up as she came back over to the sofa and he rubbed her arm. “Y’okay?” He asked.
She nodded. But Elijah said no. She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine,” she promised.
“D’you want t’play a game?” Harry asked.
She perked up a bit. “I don’t know, it’s kind of late—”
“That sounds like fun!” Mia said excitedly.
“Don’t you guys need to go to bed earl—”
“What’s the worst that happens? They can’t start without us,” Elijah shrugged.
She snorted. “If you’re sure,” she said. Harry smiled, found a charades-like game on his phone and passed it off to her to begin. The four of them laughed the entire time until it was way too late.
*
She booked the hotel room almost as soon as her brother announced his engagement. Back when she was still with Spencer. Therefore, there was just a king size bed in their room as she got ready for bed.
“I can sleep on the floor,” Harry offered.
“No, that’s silly.”
“Want you t’be comfortable, Beautiful.”
“The bed is big,” she shrugged. “Sorry.”
“Nothing t’apologize for.”
Harry was hoping that maybe in the middle of the night there would be some subconscious cuddling. He wanted to hold her tight so badly. Harry changed in the bathroom, brushed his teeth, after she did her stuff. She was curled in the bed as close to one edge as possible when he returned, looking at her phone. Her hair pulled into a loose braid and made her look more like Belle than his niece could have predicted. “All set with the light?” He asked, standing by the light switch.
“Yeah,” she nodded.
Harry watched her for a moment. “Hey Beautiful?” He asked.
“Hmm?”
“Can y’go on the other side? I want t’be closest to the door,” he smirked.
She blushed but scooted across the way. Once she was in the correct spot, he flipped the lights off, then edged into the bed carefully. There was about a foot and a half of space between them once he settled and he could feel her foot wiggling uncomfortably against the blankets.
“Y’okay, Beautiful?” He asked. She nodded. Her face was illuminated by her phone and Harry reached over and took it from her. He knew this would be easier to say in the dark. “Y’mum has no idea what she’s missing,” he whispered. “Mia and Elijah adore you. M’not sure why the rest of y’family is like that,” he reached between them, grabbed her hand and squeezed. “S’insane t’me. You’re perfect.”
There was a quiet sniffle. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He chuckled. “Y’know Beautiful, you are so lovely m’back t’thinking y’don’t exist at all.”
--
Here's a reminder for the post I made about my taglist, so if your name is missing, this is probably why, just let me know if you missed it and need me to add it back.
general taglist: @daydreamingofmatilda @loving-hazz @angel-upon @summertime-pills
I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)
From me/Warnings: mostly fluffy and a bit angsty. It references some time from when she first comes back and also a good sort of distant future. I want to be able to come back to different time points between the story and this so I'm imagining a chunk of time. Don't read too much into the timeframe like I do. It's been a while.
Summary: She loves Harry the most. Or he loves her the most. Maybe it's a tie. Who's to say?
Harry came home from work and smiled at her pretty figure sleeping on the sofa. He hated the angle of her neck and the way her body twisted uncomfortably. But he couldn’t stop her no matter how hard he tried. Regardless of how often he told her not to sleep on the couch waiting for him. Instead, he simply scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed.
After she nestled into the pillow and blankets, he went to use the bathroom, showered his shift off from his body, brushed his teeth, flossed, and tidied up the bathroom a bit. Harry was wont to leave his stuff all over the counter when he was getting ready for work. Normally he came home to find it cleaned up because he kept forgetting he didn’t live alone anymore. It was over a year that he spent working too many shifts and never cleaning up his bathroom because he didn’t need to clean it up for himself.
If he missed the trash can with his floss or didn’t put the cap back on the toothpaste, she would pick it up because she was perfect. But he didn’t want her to have to do that. So, he cleaned up his messes, ensured the cap was tight and his floss was in the trashcan. He blinked a few times because he was so sure he was imagining things from being so sleepy and every once in a while, he had to remind himself that she really was home—tonight was one of those nights.
He wasn’t rushing to get to bed, but he wasn’t slow either; eager to get back to her lying on her side of the bed. He never told her it used to be his side, because as far as he was concerned, she could have whatever she wanted. If she wanted his arm or one of his teeth, she could have it.
When he finally left the bathroom, he found her sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “Hi kitten,” he whispered with a smile.
She dropped her hands, and a grin spread across her face. It was so sweet and so cute it made his heart melt. “Hi baby.”
Baby.
It was music to his ears.
“Missed you,” he crawled into bed. He pulled her toward him, so she was cradled into his body, spooned nice and tight. He wrapped his arms around her, tucked her head beneath his chin, and kissed her temple. “Missed you so much,” he murmured.
She sighed. “I missed you too.”
He squeezed her—not too hard because he was almost certain he would die if he hurt her—even by accident. “Sleep tight,” he whispered and dotted kisses along her hairline, from her ear to the back of her neck—all he could reach.
“Love you,” her words were slurred.
“Love you most,” he answered.
*
Harry was in his shed working on some project for his coworker. She didn’t ask what. It was one of the only holdovers from their time apart that he was happy to keep. Same with her knitting. So, on his days off they spent several hours apart while she continued her writing and Harry worked in his makeshift workshop. Crafting and making things for friends, family, and coworkers.
With the sound of the saw, his music, it was almost impossible for him to hear her calling him. She preferred to call his phone because he usually had it propped up, poised to announce her call. Rarely did he answer it. Opted for heading inside instead.
The weeks following the fire were toughest. The short separation for work shifts proved to be a bit nerve-wracking.
It was extremely comforting that she voluntarily shared her location with him. He won’t ever tell her, but he watched her little dot all night during her first shift—stationed at the restaurant and only left when she was returning home. Every shift got a little easier. She texted when she could. Even if it was just to send a smiley face.
There’s a really cute couple I’m waiting on. They’re like a hundred years old.
Yeah? What’s so cute about them?
They’re totally in love. Like the kind of love that I want to write about.
Too bad you’re writing about us.
Don’t be jealous, baby.
Don’t make me jealous, kitten.
I’ll be home in an hour, and I’ll show you there’s nothing to be jealous of 😉
Good 😘
She only worked four days a week at the restaurant—three nights, and a double on Friday. “I don’t want to not pull my weight.” She insisted it was only until she found a job that paid her comfortably. In the meantime, she would write on the off days.
“Y’could never work again. Jus’ write. M’happy t’support your writing career.”
Her heart bounced in her chest. Even after everything, he wanted to do anything to help her. Honestly, she didn’t think about leaving him for three years that much, but it was the big moments that reminded her. He loved her so completely that truly nothing else mattered. He would let her live there for free. Let her write her little heart out. “You don’t have to do that,” she giggled softly.
“I lived here without you,” he said gently with a shrug. “I don’t need your money,” he explained. He didn’t harp on it either. Their time apart was a blip, in the grand scheme of things. There were ways they were still connected when they were apart anyway. The way they told others they were happily taken, both finding comfort in her Jump piece, and how they couldn’t get themselves to go on a singular date because it was impossible when they already had the best, purest love there could ever be. “M’happy t’be paid in other ways,” he joked and pulled her by her hip toward him. He brushed the back of his finger along her cheek, followed the path to her lips where he traded the back of his finger for his thumb.
She snorted, shook her head interrupting his soft touch on her skin. “You’re something else,” she laughed.
“Jus’ want you t’be happy,” he shrugged one shoulder.
“I’m so happy,” she promised. “This is heaven on earth.”
He laughed. “S’very kind of you, kitten. Normally I’d argue, but I think y’have it right.”
She smiled brighter, pulled his face toward hers and tried paying him in another way.
*
Harry was tired. He took an extra shift to help out a coworker. He really didn’t want to. He missed her. Granted, he always missed her, but he really missed her. There was something about working three days in a row that made him extra anxious.
He knew she wasn’t sleeping well. That made him anxious. There was the cleaning she planned on doing and Harry had this irrational fear that she would mix toxic fumes together and he’d find her unconscious. Not to mention there was her work shifts that she didn’t get to text much. Including her double. He hated it when she worked the double at the same time as him. It made the hours of his shift feel like purgatory.
So, when he got home, finally, ready to crawl into bed and snuggle with her, he was irritated that she was carrying in groceries for Mrs. Peterson. If it was any other time he might not have cared so much. But he was already annoyed.
“Let me get that,” he hurried up the front steps. She shrugged him away gently.
“I’m already in the house, baby, thank you,” she said softly. “I’ll be right home. You’ve got to be exhausted! Just—”
“Kitten, give me the bags,” he sounded a little more forceful. She stared at him, confused.
“Are you alri—”
“Give me. The bags.”
She blinked and handed them over because she was so lost by his tone. Had he ever raised his voice at her? Aside from their argument on their first date when she came home? Or when he was trying to get her out of the apartment during the fire? Occasionally, he called her name and yanked her back in a parking lot when someone was driving too fast and almost clipped her.
But really, Harry never raised his voice at her. Never spoke to her in a tone that was anything less than dripping with love in every word.
Harry’s voice was off as he spoke to Mrs. Peterson. She could see the clench in his jaw, the way his back muscles tensed, and how he was nearly talking through his teeth with a closed smile. “I can take a look tomorrow, Mrs. Peterson,” he offered.
“Thank you, Harry. We did our best to move all the heavy stuff out of the way to get it away—”
Harry’s gaze cut to her. “You moved the heavy stuff?” He asked.
“Uh… yeah?” She laughed. “I’m um, a lot stronger than I look?” She glanced awkwardly at Mrs. Peterson. She didn’t want their older neighbor to see their argument. Or whatever this was.
For over a week Harry had been pushy and clingy. She didn’t mind completely. If she could sew Harry to her side, she probably would have. But the pushiness was different and a little weird. He wouldn’t let her push the grocery cart. He was insistent on sitting in the bathroom while she showered claiming he wanted to talk to her, and it couldn’t wait until she got out of the shower. When she came home from a shift, he greeted her at her car door. All but whisked her off her feet and massaged them until she fell asleep.
It wasn’t bad, it was just weird.
So, the raised voice, the irritation, it was odd.
“Everything alright?” She asked as they walked back to the house.
“Yeah,” he shook his head with a sigh. He took a deep breath. “M’gonna go out t’work on m’project.”
She blinked. “You just worked a crazy shift. Don’t you think you should nap before you work with power tools?”
“I need t’finish it,” he grumbled dropping his bag on the bed and stripping of his shirt.
Nope, not getting distracted by the tattoos and muscles. She shook her head trying to focus. But God, he didn’t fight fair. Fortunately, he slipped into another T-shirt, and he ran a hand over his face. “Did y’clean?” He asked.
“Well… yeah, it was—”
“I don’t want you t’clean while m’not here.”
“Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “Forget it. M’fine.”
“You don’t want me to clean while you’re not here, but you can go work with a saw and a nail gun when you’re clearly overtired?”
“I’m fine, kitten.”
She took a deep breath. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I am. Jesus,” he rubbed his eye with the palm. “I won’t go work on it. Forget it,” he shook his head hard.
“Did I do something?” She asked.
“What? No,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “Of course not. M’jus’ tired, kitten,” he muttered.
“Okay, well… why don’t you go to sleep, and I’ll make you something to eat—I just have to go to the grocery store. I was just about to, but I saw Mrs. Peterson—”
“I’ll go with you,” he sighed.
“No, it’s not needed, you need to sleep.”
“I don’t want you t’go alone—”
“Oh my God,” she laughed. “Harry, I’m getting whiplash. What is the matter?”
“Nothing! Jus’,” he sighed. “M’sorry. Go shopping,” he mumbled. “M’gonna work on m’project,” he headed for the backyard. “Lemme know when you’re back so I can help bring in the groceries,” he called over his shoulder.
“Absolutely not working with a saw when you’re this tired,” she followed after him, a light jog because Harry’s legs were so long. She hopped in front of him as he approached the door. “Go take a nap.”
“Kitten. Get out of the way. I need t’work on this.”
“No,” she said simply. “I can’t. You won’t let me shower alone. I’m not letting you work with power tools while I’m not here in case you need—”
“I do not need a babysitter, get out of my way. I need t’finish,” he repeated.
“For the love of God Harry, why are you acting like this?! What are you even working on that you ‘need to finish?’” She dropped her hand to the door handle and swung it open.
“Don’t go in there!” he stated hurriedly and grabbed her hand to stop her.
But it was too late.
She gasped. All the sound stopped. Their argument, or whatever it was to be called, died on the spot. The air in her lungs felt thick, like she was trying to breathe in the smoke again.
She sucked her lip into her mouth. A hand dropped to her chest. “You knew?” She whispered.
He closed his eyes and nodded. He took a deep breath. There in the middle of his workshop was a crib so large and lovely it looked like it could support the weight of an adult body—maybe even two. He probably designed it that way purposefully.
“How long have you known?” She asked.
“I found the test in the trash a couple weeks ago. I dropped m’floss next to the trash can. I wouldn’t have seen it if I didn’t.”
She scanned the project he’d been working on for several moments. She shook her head in disbelief. “You didn’t say anything.”
He snorted. “You didn’t say anything.”
Touche, she thought. “This is a huge crib,” she whispered.
He smiled proudly. “Turns into a bed too.”
“Jesus, you’re talented,” she mumbled.
Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at her nervously. “Kitten.”
She bit her lip, her eyes watering while she looked it over. “You built a crib?” Her voice was soft. Almost instinctively, her hand dropped to her stomach. There was nothing there. Not even the faintest hint of a bump at all. But Harry was in love with the gesture anyway.
It felt like his knees buckled beneath him. The same way it felt when he saw her at the stoplight, and she looked at him for the first time in three years. Like when he found her sleeping on the couch the first time he came home from his shift. When she merely said his name when he realized she was with Lauren alone at a bar.
How he wanted to crumple in on himself and just give up when he just got her back and thought he was going to lose her because her apartment was on fire.
Just her own hand on her stomach and he wanted to cry because he was just so goddamn emotional about her. His favorite person. His whole world. “Yeah... I figured we need one… right? We do need one, yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah,” he voice was soft. The confirmation wracked through his body like nothing he ever felt before. “We do.”
“Kitten,” he frowned, sad that she still hadn’t said it.
She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” her voice shook.
“I thought y’would have told me by now. Every time y’call me over I think this is it. Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong? Are y’not happy with me?”
“No,” she shook her head. “No, no, it’s not that Harry. God, it’s not that,” she sniffled and wiped beneath her eye with her sleeve. Harry grabbed her hand again.
“Then what, kitten? What’s made y’so… nervous. Around me? S’kind of a crazy way t’feel around me...”
“I just didn't want to... let you down. Again.”
“Let me down?” He repeated. “How would… how could you possibly—”
“You may have forgiven me for leaving you, but I don’t think I will,” she said to the ground. “If… if something went wrong in the first twelve weeks or if… if you didn’t want to have a baby with me then I don—”
He gasped. “Kitten,” he shook his head. “You weren’t going t’tell me for twelve weeks?”
She sniffed. “I don’t know… I’m not… I’m not thinking clearly! There’s a baby growing inside me making me unstable!”
He chuckled, shook his head again, and pulled her close to him. “My love,” he murmured into her hair, “if something did happen… y’were jus’ going t’deal with that all by yourself? Did y’tell Addie at least? Or your mum? Or my mum?”
She shook her head. “No… I don’t know. I don’t know what my plan was. I just didn’t want to let you down,” she repeated, her voice cracking and aching as she said it.
He tugged her closer somehow, kissed the top of her head. “Kitten, s’forgotten. Wasn’t your fault,” he reminded her. “You’re here now and s’the only thing that matters t’me. S’the only thing that will ever matter and m’never letting you leave ever again. So will you please tell me what you’ve been keeping from me?” He asked, almost a chuckle in his voice as he begged her.
It was that simple. He was serious. Maybe it was really forgotten. At least the bad parts of it. Harry knew for at least three weeks, and he didn’t say anything because he was just worried about her. She bit the inside of her lip again. A smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as her eyes watered with more happy tears. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered.
He grinned. Almost pretending like this was the first time he found out. It felt like the first time he realized it. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered. Harry gently lifted the hem of her shirt to the bottom of her chest.
“Hi little one,” he murmured. She sobbed hard and Harry put a hand on her stomach. “We’re going t’love you so much,” he promised. “Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” He asked, drifting his finger across her belly.
She laughed, a watery sound. Then she sniffled. “It’s too early to know,” she told him.
He chuckled shyly. “I know… but… do y’have a feeling?”
She thought for a moment, put her hand on top of his and squeezed his fingers. “I think it’s a boy,” she whispered.
He tore his gaze from her stomach to her eyes again. “A boy,” Harry’s heart bloomed.
She nodded, smiling, shaking, excited all these emotions running through her. “Yeah… a perfect little boy who’s just like you.”
Harry felt overwhelmed. Tears pricked his eyes. He cupped the sides of her face, pulled her close, and kissed her. She smiled into the kiss, and it felt so good, so perfect, Harry felt like the luckiest man alive. “I love you so much,” he whispered.
“Me or the baby?” She asked quietly.
He chuckled and bumped his nose against hers. “Both of you, kitten. I love you both so much.”
“I love you most,” and Harry was so happy it sounded like a promise. One that wasn’t going to break ever. “Now, can I go grocery shopping, please?”
“No,” he smiled. “Y’thought I was controlling and protective the past few weeks? Y’got nothing on me for the next nine months,” he said proudly. He kissed her over the laughter that spilled from her mouth and onto his lips. “You can write and that’s it,” he murmured.
“No restaurant?”
“I already wanted you t’quit that,” he grumbled.
She smiled. “You’re sweet, baby.”
“For you, kitten; anything for you.”
--
general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach
I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)
Summary: “I don’t know, the surprise is for happy almost-first graders. I can’t have my surprise thinking this is a sad day not a party day.”
They all giggled and licked their popsicles in various tropical colors. They brightened a bit more with each pass of the word surprise. “What kind of surprise?” Brayden asked.
The weather was getting warmer. Harry got to see her springy, flowery dresses, the bright colors, and so many pretty ribbons in her hair it truly felt like dating a princess.
“All my friends love to line up quickly and quietly!” She called at recess. Harry watched with awe from the fence on his break. He cherished these moments. When the building was done, he wouldn’t get to see her in action. (Although, he wasn’t kidding when he told her, he very much planned to volunteer when she was sick.)
The little ones hurried to line up. Miss Bee was exhausted once more. Harry felt terrible. It seemed never-ending. Every time she got a small reprieve, something else came up. She wasn’t sick, thank God, but she was tired. Tired to her core. Snappy, when she didn’t mean to be. Harry paid no attention to her sharpness; he’d be snappy too if he did everything that she did with a smile plastered on her face. He rarely asked her what she wanted for dinner anymore. He paid attention to recipes she mentioned in passing for inspiration. As casually as he could, he spoke about food in a way that didn’t sound like planning or asking. If she requested something, he did his best to make it or order it. But it was his goal that he took very seriously to take away the decision from her fatigued mind.
In the bouts of never-ending exhaustion and stress, if he had something important to ask her, he waited until morning. Harry could have been mid-conversation with one of the members of the crew and he would take off from the jobsite just so he could walk her to her classroom (he also carried items she might have had with her as needed). Harry started spending the nights at her house more frequently. Almost every Saturday night through Tuesday night. She stayed with him almost all the other nights. Rarely were they sleeping alone anymore. Asking her a question at night often led to exhausted tears. Then that snappiness that she couldn’t help, followed by more overwhelmed tears that made her feel like a terrible girlfriend. Harry always hushed her, promised her she was okay and didn’t need to answer right then.
Almost all of April was spent prepping for her sister’s wedding shower, bachelorette, and parts of the wedding. (After preparing for the following day and leaving her classroom, that is.)
“I think it’s ridiculous you can’t go,” she frowned while he helped her iron the T-shirts for the bachelorette party. They were seated on her living room floor, in front of all the tools, materials, and things her sister insisted on having.
She peeled the excess lettering off the plastic part of the fanny packs everyone would get as well for the trip. Each girl would get a welcome gift and there was simply too much in it and a lot that required her craftiness. But she did as her sister asked without questioning it because she loved her more than anything.
He smiled. “S’okay, kitten. I would jus’ be watching you the whole time. I’d tell everyone that y’were upstaging your sister and then y’family wouldn’t like me much anymore.”
She rolled her eyes and felt the warmth flood her cheeks. “If someone can’t come, I’m going to push for it.”
“I don’t want t’mess with the table arrangements, Bird. S’no big deal. M’happy t’hang out where needed. I get family dinner on Wednesdays now. S’no big deal,” he promised. “I’ll hang in the hotel and wait for you,” he shrugged. “M’sure I can come to the after party, yeah? I get it, s’hard t’arrange tables for a wedding. I don’t want t’add any stress t’your sister’s plate.”
“Yeah, but…” she sighed and looked at him with a frown. “I wanted to dance with you in pretty clothes, and the venue is so pretty. Like I always told her I wanted to get married there but it’s quite expensive. But then—”
He smiled immediately. She was adorable and Harry couldn’t think of anyone better than her. He was lucky. So utterly lucky it ached him to the core. “There will be plenty of weddings, Bird,” he assured her and tugged her away from her task. He put one hand on her lower back, cupped her hand to his chest with the other and slowly swayed—no music at all to guide them. “We don’t need pretty clothes t’dance,” he promised. She felt her face flush and he kissed her forehead. Then she dropped her head on his shoulder, sighed contentedly. He was right, of course. Gently, he kissed her hairline again. “I love your house,” he murmured.
“Me too,” she sighed.
“I want you t’move into mine,” his voice was quick to say it. She tensed ever so slightly. It wasn’t an afternoon or evening conversation. Her brain was tired, and she was busy. “Sorry, I didn’t mean t’ask y’that till after school let out for the summer. I don’t like asking y’questions after work.”
She shook her head. “You want to live with me?” She asked in disbelief.
“I basically do now,” he shrugged and gently moved her around the kitchen. “Do y’think m’gonna find out y’snore or something? I already know y’do,” he pressed a kiss to her temple.
He dipped her. Actually dipped her. Like they were on a dance floor. But it was so much better without other people there. She stared at him when he pulled her back up. “I love you,” she shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before. I thought I was, but this…” Harry smiled, kissed her softly, and waltzed her around her sweet little house. For a moment, her head was back on his shoulder but then suddenly lifted her head from his chest. Her gaze met his, accusation in her tone and all over her adorable features—pinched brow, pursed lips. “What do you mean you don’t ask me questions after work?”
*
With the warmer weather, they went for walks in the evening, did yard work in both their yards, and went to her little ones’ baseball games. “Hi Miss Bee!” Some of the kids were a little older than her group that Harry had gotten so accustomed to. They had her for kindergarten over the last three years. “S’like you’re a celebrity,” he chuckled beside her while she waved back.
They sat along the fence surrounding the field. It was hard to believe the school year was rapidly winding down. “Hi Mr. Harry!” Someone shouted.
She smiled. “See, you’re a celebrity too,” she patted his knee as a few of the students in her class ran up to them. “Hi gals and pals,” she giggled.
Milo, Kaleb, Janie, and Kai were among the ranks. They were each wearing a little baseball uniform that looked so cute on them. “Did you see me throw the ball?” Kaleb asked, bouncing up and down gleefully. Hands perched on the arm rest of her chair. She nodded with a bright smile.
“Sure did,” she winked at him. “Janie, nice hit you had,” she answered.
“It went so far,” she said knowingly. She leaned in toward her ear to tell her a secret. “Further than all the boys,” Janie whispered to her. She giggled in response.
“Kai, y’had a nice catch too,” Harry gave him a fist bump. “Milo lad, y’gonna be an all-star pitcher one day?” He asked. At their age, the kids threw three pitches before the parent-coaches stepped in to lay out easy tosses for the kids to hit. But even still, Milo did a pretty good job. He beamed at Harry’s compliment.
“All of our brothers are playing right now,” Janie explained. “Mommy said we couldn’t be hooligans. But we saw you and wanted to say hi!” She explained excitedly.
“So cool,” she rubbed her hand on Janie’s arm, she giggled. “I don’t think you guys have it in you to be hooligans,” she wrinkled her nose. Harry chuckled.
“Are you guys married?” Kaleb asked.
She laughed and turned her gaze away nervously for a moment. It was barely six months into their relationship; she didn’t want Harry to feel any kind of external pressure to move things along. She was completely happy with the way things were and didn’t need anything to change. Dating Harry was lovely and if it progressed to that point then she would be the luckiest woman in the world. She didn’t need her little group of students to make him feel like he had to—
“Not yet,” Harry chuckled and patted her knee before giving it a squeeze. She felt her face warming with color and the way Harry smiled at her she knew she was as red as the pants he liked most. She turned away again to cough. He winked at her as she turned back to her audience.
“Miss Bee, do you want to come get ice cream with us?” Kai asked.
Harry gave her knee another gentle squeeze knowing that she was a little overwhelmed and that she was absolutely going to say yes to them. “Ooh, that sounds like fun,” she agreed standing from her camping chair. “Do you want anything Mr. Harry?” She offered and assured herself she had her wallet as she stepped away from their chairs.
“Surprise me,” he smiled. Janie grabbed hold of one of her hands and Milo took the other. Almost like it was almost instinctual.
“Oh, please tell me you’re not bothering your poor teacher after hours. Doesn’t she do enough for you lot?” Someone called. She laughed and shook her head.
“No bother at all!” She responded. Harry knew that even though she often wore herself thin worrying and caring for them, she really meant it when she said they were no bother.
*
Harry was in her room fixing all the drawers that tended to stick, but moreover, specifically refused to open in the humidity. Now that they were winding down their final days until summer break, she was taking down decorations, putting away student work, and organizing things to be tucked away for the summer. That is, Harry asked for orders, and she supplied them even though she had done it herself for three years. Harry didn’t mind, of course, but with the end of the school year in sight, there seemed like there was more to do than ever on top of her regular prep-work. Her sister’s wedding didn’t help ease any tension, but she told herself that she couldn’t worry about the wedding while she was in the classroom.
“I’m just going to make some copies!” She called from the doorway of her room as she headed down the hall for the nearby machine.
“M’gonna fix the door handle on the bathroom, yeah?” He called back.
“My hero,” she sang. He chuckled.
The copier jammed frequently due to the humidity too many times to count. She should have given up. Cut her losses and tried again after it had time to cool down. Right before she left, that was when she should have made the copies. Then the pages wouldn’t be so damp and warm. It was a miracle they were dry enough for the kids to use the following morning. Why the copy room lacked AC wasn’t a mystery to her underfunded school, but she felt it should have been a priority. “Temperamental, annoying piece of—”
“Hey.”
She dropped the papers she was holding and spun around. She blinked. Before she could even get herself to form a greeting, she was simply shocked. “How did you get in here?” She asked instead of hello or hi. Quickly, to distract herself, she knelt to scoop up some of the papers.
“I signed in at the office. They let anyone in when you know Miss Bee,” he said with a shrug and a shy smile.
She cleared her throat. She wasn’t afraid of Evan by any means, but she didn’t want to be around him either. Especially alone. It was obvious he made her uneasy. He had this way of making her feel like shit about herself, a way of making her think she was a little crazy for doing all that she did. It was how he presented his argument. It was how he got her to believe she was doing too much and not enough for him.
And he did it again. It was her fault that he was there. He knew her; could give the main office specific enough details that they would let him in because it was Miss Bee and of course she wouldn’t mind another person around. The more the merrier! She was sure the secretaries at the front assumed she wouldn’t mind in the slightest.
He probably assured them that he could find his own way to the classroom—no need to call down and ask her. I’m sure she’s busy with something at the moment. I’ve been there a few times, actually. My nephew Milo is in her class—I know, such a small world! That businessman persona was sure to be smooth talking the older women who printed his visitor pass and sent him on his way. He was probably still on the visitor list because she never thought he would come willingly. It was true, too, he had been there a few times during her first two years; he knew his way enough. Enough to find her anyway. It was her fault that he could just go along to find her. All because of her sweet demeanor.
She struggled to gather the papers. A slight shake in her fingers from being overwhelmed, caught off-guard. “What are you doing, Evan?” She asked. The copier was loud enough that unless she started yelling too loud and set off alarm bells, Harry wasn’t going to hear her.
“I was asking Milo more about Harry,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
She snorted. “Getting info from a kindergartener is a good way to get bad info,” she said knowingly.
“Glad you agree, that’s why I’m here.”
Shit. She stared at him. His ability to use her own logic against her was uncanny. “Why?”
“You have time for a boyfriend?” He asked, the accusation settled in his tone. “Milo doesn’t shut up about you two. My sister-in-law doesn’t seem to care. But I think it’s weird.”
“They wanted to hang out with Harry first,” she stated, it was a dumb thing to say but Evan always made her feel flustered. He snorted.
“You realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?”
She did. “Did you have to come here while I’m working? Like honestly, Evan, what are you doing here?”
“Well, it’s not like I can catch you at another time. You’re always working.” She abandoned her copies immediately, a shake of her head. She had this argument with him too many times when they were together. She wouldn’t have it any longer—especially now that they weren’t a couple. She made her way back toward her classroom. Except, he grabbed her wrist and sighed. “Sorry, no. That’s not how I wanted this to go… I just think it’s unfair.”
“What is unfair?” She yanked her hand from his grip.
“That you can suddenly have enough time for a boyfriend when you never had time for me,” he took a step closer to her. Was there hurt in his eyes? No. She devoted every spare minute she had to him. There was no way he was hurt. He didn’t attend school events like Harry did, he didn’t take the care or time to know her students. She shook her head, turned to her classroom again. “You’re really going to say nothing?”
“I had time for you. You didn’t like that I had time for other things too,” she said over her shoulder.
“Stop walking away from me,” he followed after her.
“I’m busy, Evan. Keep up or leave. You’re in my school, you’re gonna have to play by my rules.”
“You’re always busy.”
“I am,” she agreed.
“You don’t think that all this is detrimental to your relationship? Any relationship? Look what happened to us.”
She continued walking toward the classroom. Knowing that Harry was nearby was comforting. She knew that he wouldn’t take one second of Evan’s intimidation. Evan reached for her arm again. “Evan don’t touch me,” she pulled away.
“Christ, babe. It’s not like I’m going to hurt you,” he rolled his eyes. She ignored him and continued to the classroom. But he snagged her arm again. She glared at him. “Is he in there?”
“Harry? Yeah,” thank God. She wrenched her arm away once more. But as she entered the classroom it was much too silent. She closed her eyes. Squeezed them tight just briefly, hoping that just mentally wishing for Harry to reappear would make it so. Harry must have run to his car to grab something. Or maybe he was helping one of her coworkers—he had done that a few times since he started helping her regularly after school. Fuck. Evan glanced around the room while she stared at him. “You seriously came to my job to tell me I suck as a girlfriend?”
“You didn’t suck as a girlfriend,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. I just think you put too much effort into your kids and not enough into our relationship.”
“And how much energy did you want me to put into our relationship?” She snapped.
“More than you did,” he grumbled. “I was constantly jockeying for position to be first in your life.”
She shook her head. “No, I put you first over and over. I left events early. I scheduled you first and foremost. I won’t back out on a promise I made to my kids. There is too much instability in their lives—” She started cleaning up the desks as she always did and he followed her much too closely until she was backed into the corner of her room where the art supplies were. He loomed over her.
She felt frozen. Still not quite scared for her well-being but worried that he was going to do something rash. “You put up this front that you’re this sweet, innocent victim. That you’re a martyr because of your profession. You picked it, sweetheart. You are nothing but manipulative. You act all selfless doing everything for others, and it’s not selfless. It’s selfish. You put everyone ahead of the person you’re with. You act like this classroom is the only thing in the world that matters. One day Harry’s going to see it, just like I saw it and then you’ll be alone again. The way you should be. You’ve got everyone fooled, but not me.”
Behind her eyes stung with tears that were desperate to get out. What was the point of this? She wasn’t scared. Evan wasn’t stupid enough to hurt her in a public town building, much less a school. But he was making her nervous, that was for sure.
And…
Well…
Was there some truth to what he said?
Whether he was or not, she wasn’t going to let him bully her literally into the corner of the room. There was no place for bullies in her classroom. She swallowed back the emotion she felt, the fear and ache that she wasn’t good enough for Harry blooming and spreading in her stomach and chest.
She could faintly hear Harry’s voice in another room, and she wondered if Evan heard it too. She backed up a step purposefully. She knocked over the rolling cart that contained every marker, pencil, and crayon that she owned. It clattered loudly, the cart broke in a few places, and she sighed heavily to herself with equal parts, relief and frustration.
Whatever conversation with Harry ended abruptly. “Kitten, y’okay? Did y’try moving something on your own? Y’should have called for me, Bird. I was jus’ next door helpin—” His voice was hurried but he came to a full stop in the entryway from the hall near the bathroom. His eyes narrowed at her predicament, backed into the corner of her room. “Evan,” his voice was flat.
“Harry,” he greeted in the same monotone voice and took one small step away from completely looming over her. “Just stopped by to say hi to our girl.”
Harry didn’t speak. She knew he hated the idea of him saying our referring to anything that had to do with her. She definitely wasn’t Evan’s by any stretch of the word. Harry quickly crossed the room and wedged himself between her and Evan. Harry searched her eyes for less than five seconds then turned to Evan again. “Did you hurt her?” He snapped.
Evan laughed. “Don’t get all—”
“Did you fucking hurt her?” He repeated his voice was low, dark. She never heard it like that before. Not even like the first time when he asked about Evan. Not when he yelled at her for climbing her roof in the rain.
“Jesus Christ, no, I didn’t fucking hurt her,” he rolled his eyes. Like this was a joke.
Harry stared at him silently; his mouth pressed into a line. Then he turned to her. “Did he hurt you?” He asked gently.
“Oh, for the love of—”
“No,” she shook her head. “He didn’t.”
Harry searched, her face again. Not that he didn’t believe her, but he could see her trying to get out of this and waiting until he was gone to tell him the truth. “Evan, you need to leave.”
“You’re not in charg—”
“No, but you’re clearly making her uncomfortable,” he took another step forward just so she was behind him. Her stomach flipped at the protection she felt just by him standing in front of her. She silently crooked a finger through his beltloop. Like that was really going to stop him should she decide to do something. “Stick to pick up,” he grumbled. “Leave her alone.”
“Then you should have to leave too.”
She opened her mouth to protest but Harry answered faster. “Fine by me. I’ll wait in the parking lot for her,” he shrugged. “Makes no difference to me.”
“You’re really going to stay with her,” he chuckled but there was no humor in the tone. “She can’t give you all her attention. She never will. Everything in her life will come before you.”
“She’s a person, not a slave,” Harry reminded him. She tugged a little on the belt loop.
“You’re pathetic,” he snorted.
“I’m pathetic? I don’t show up uninvited to my ex-girlfriend’s place of work and antagonize her. Are you jus’ realizing you made a mistake letting her go? Too little, too late. The only good thing you did for her in your relationship was leave her. Sorry you’re jus’ realizing that you’re an idiot. They start teaching common sense in kindergarten if you need a place to start. But for now, get away from her, and get the fuck out.”
She tugged on his belt loop a little harder—especially when he pulled to step forward. “You’re fucked. Both of you,” he shook his head and headed for the door to the path.
“Hey!” Harry called and pulled from her small hold on his beltloop as Evan made his way toward the parking lot. “Did you ever think you weren’t worth being put first? That’s why you felt that way? Because I can tell you,” Harry shook his head. “I’ve never felt like second place in her presence.”
Evan rolled his eyes, and perhaps appropriately flipped Harry off. “Stupid fucking prick,” he growled pulling the door shut hard. It made a loud cracking noise. She bounced in surprise. Harry didn’t turn sour often. Or at least, not since she had known him. It seemed the only time he raised his voice or got extra growly in his tone, was when she wasn’t okay or he was worried about imminent harm. He turned to her again and cupped her face so delicately. Like she was made of crystal. It was so gentle she almost burst into tears. “Bird, do not lie t’me,” he said pointedly. “Did he hurt you?” he whispered keeping his voice calm but there was a shake of frustration as well that she knew he was struggling to keep at bay.
She shook her head. “He grabbed my arm to get my attention. Not to hurt me,” she promised. “I would have told you if he hurt me, I swear,” she put one hand over his against her cheek and gave his shaking fingers a squeeze. “I promise,” she whispered.
Harry shook his head, sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “What the fuck,” he whispered to himself. Then he crushed her to him. She inhaled his shirt deeply. Harry smelled like clean laundry despite the fact he was sweating during work. A mystery. Completely unfair, but she would marvel in it anyway. He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tightly. She released a long breath, wrapping her arms up around his back. “Can’t leave y’alone for a second,” he mumbled into her hair.
A breath of laughter escaped her lips. “Thank you.”
He shook his head. She could feel him shaking from the inside out, from his core and outward. “Do not thank me,” he mumbled and squeezed her tighter somehow.
She rubbed his back gently. “Let’s go home,” she suggested pulling away to look at him as he struggled to remain calm.
“Hmm,” he hummed. “You need t’finish your copies, yeah? And I left the drawers a mess. I finished the bathroom handle, but Bethany came looking for help with moving a table, so I went t’help. I don’t want t’leave your room a mess, Bird. You’ll have t’pick up all these pencils and markers by yourself tomorrow morning.”
She shrugged a shoulder, holding his hand still and trailed her fingers up and down his forearm with the other hand. “I’ll put caution tape up tomorrow morning or something. The kids will love it. We’ll say it’s a project for Mr. Harry and we can look at it tomorrow,” she offered. “I’d rather go home, eat dinner, go for a walk, and lay around with you,” she suggested. “If that’s okay with you.”
A small twitch of a smile poked at the corners of his mouth. “Y’drive a hard bargain, Miss Bee,” he mumbled. But she knew it wasn’t really something she had to argue for. She squeezed his hand and hurried to her desk to scribble a few notes regarding her extra messy room for the custodians. “If that ever happens again,” Harry murmured as they headed up the path toward their cars, “please scream for me,” he squeezed her hand.
“It won’t,” she assured him.
“How do you know?”
“He’s just… jealous,” she shrugged. “He’s not…” she sighed. “He’s not dangerous.”
But wasn’t he? Because there was that tiny little voice that sounded an awful lot like Evan telling her how selfish she was and how Harry would see it eventually. Just the way he saw it.
“I don’t like him,” Harry stated.
“Tell Louis and Eleanor, they’ll get you a bumper sticker,” she muttered trying to ignore that voice.
He laughed. A beautiful, warm, lovely sound that she wanted to record and play like her favorite song. When they reached her car, she was silent again trying with everything in her to get herself to believe she wasn’t the problem. It was Evan, right? It had to be. Harry never once complained.
Was she selfish?
“Kitten,” he said gently and opened her driver’s door. “Whatever he said, don’t believe it,” he promised. “I meant it. I’ve never felt like second place. You love me and I know it. S’the best thing t’ever happen to me,” he sounded so reassuring and it made her stomach flip. She looked away from his face in fear of crying for being so seen without having to say anything at all. “Don’t believe him,” he almost sounded like he was begging. He turned her face back toward him and he searched her eyes for a moment. “Please.”
She nodded. “See you at home?” She asked quietly.
The sigh that left his mouth was filled with relief but his eyes seemed a little more worried. “See you at home.”
*
They were working on stuff for her sister’s wedding. A random assortment of boxes in her car that she was now responsible for, for the remainder of the month. Louis and Harry were coming back and forth from the driveway carrying way too many things. “How’d you get this in your car?” Louis grunted from one end of a particularly heavy box. “Is this bricks? Is she building the venue?”
She frowned knowing Harry was exhausted from his own laborious day at work and he looked a little pained at the other end of the box. “I think I blacked out,” she shrugged.
Harry frowned instantly. “I would have come with you, Bird,” he murmured.
Eleanor sifted through some of the items. “What do we have to do?”
“Go through them,” she sighed. “Make a list of each box and what’s in it so they can find it at the venue.”
“What is your sister doing to plan this wedding?” Louis asked carrying a much lighter box inside.
She shrugged, rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Nothing maybe? I think I planned it.”
“I think you planned it too,” Eleanor agreed. “What is this even for?” She pulled out a set of tubes attached by a string and shook her head.
“I don’t even know anymore. I can’t wait for this wedding to be over,” she rubbed a hand over her face. Her visit from Evan hadn’t left her mind. Doing too much for everyone else in her life was exhausting.
He had a point… didn’t he?
Harry kept looking at her. Like he could read her mind. It was as if he knew she was worrying about their relationship. Something he had assured her needed no worry at all. He gave her hand a squeeze as he headed outside again with Louis. They would be going out back next to finally put together the elaborate archway. It would need more hands—hence Louis and Eleanor.
“What’s wrong?” Eleanor asked as they made their way to the backyard.
“What do you mean?” She smirked. Pretending everything was fine like when she didn’t feel good at school.
Except it was a lot harder to hide her nervousness from her best friend than it was for a group of six-year-olds who only really cared if they were going to get to color that day. Eleanor looked at her suspiciously. “You’re acting weird. Harry keeps looking at you like you’re going to run.”
She opened her mouth to respond but at the same time Louis marched into the backyard, his eyes blazing mad. He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her back inside. Harry passed her on her deck where she could barely get a hey! out. He sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and went to Eleanor.
“What are you doing!?” She frowned at her other best friend as he continued tugging her all the way to her bedroom. He pushed her to the bed. “Louis, we don’t have time for—”
“Evan’s a piece of shit,” he stated, matter-of-factly. He paced in front of her. She pressed her lips into a line.
“Tattletale,” she mumbled of her boyfriend and looked at her hands in her lap.
“You’re thinking of cutting Harry off. Aren’t you?” He asked. “After all he’s done. After every single thing he’s done that’s shown and told you how much he adores you? You’re just going to give up because that stupid prick said you weren’t good enough?”
She didn’t look at her friend. She stared at a spot on the ground. “I’m really tired, Louis,” she said softly.
“You’re not leaving this room until you promise me that you’re not going to break up with him.”
She tilted her head back and then flopped back onto her bed. “Evan… he made some good points,” she murmured.
“Jesus Christ,” Louis growled and rubbed his hands over his face. “No. No he didn’t,” he said and dropped onto the bed beside her. He laid with his head opposite hers so they were right beside one another. “Why would you believe him? We hate him. I’m your best friend. Eleanor is your best friend. Harry loves you. Why would you believe some stupid, selfish dick?”
Her eyes watered. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “Because… I do think my classroom is the most important place in the world.”
“So what?!” Louis sounded exhausted. “Harry seems to agree.”
“But he shouldn’t have to,” she whispered. “He shouldn’t have to come to my room every day after school and be content with laminating and cutting up paper just to spend time with me. He shouldn’t have to fix my house up and live out of a suitcase half the week. He shouldn’t have to go to little dance recitals and baseball games because I love my kids. He should be able to go to my sister’s wedding and not have to help put it together,” she listed, her voice cracking over and over as she spoke.
Louis sat up, briefly left to get a few tissues from her living room, and returned closing the door behind him. He dabbed her eyes gently. “Don’t do this,” Louis whispered. “You’re going to break Harry’s heart. That’s a fact. But you’ll break yours too and I can offer to kill Evan all day long, but I won’t be able to offer that if you break your own heart,” he teased. She snorted, sat up, grabbed the tissues from him. “Don’t do this,” he begged. The same way Harry quietly pleaded for her to forget everything Evan said yesterday afternoon. “If you break up with him, I’m going to be his best friend and you’ll be stuck seeing him all the time anyway. I’ll make him come over all the time. You won’t get rid of him,” he promised making her laugh despite her tears.
“What if I’m not enough?” She whispered eventually.
“People like Evan project their own insecurities on perfect people like you. I hope his pillow is always warm,” he grumbled. She snickered quietly. “You went two years without sex. You really want to do that again? Eleanor said that you’re really enjoying it,” he nudged her.
She shook her head, cheeks pinking under the assumption. “Your girlfriend is a gossip.”
“Don’t break his heart,” Louis repeated.
“I won’t.”
“You promise?” He asked. “Not over this,” he amended. “If he cheats on you or something, fine. Or if he buys the wrong kind of pizza. I’ll be the one driving the getaway car.”
She rolled her eyes. “Harry would never cheat on me.”
“Good; then you’re in it for the long haul.”
“The wrong kind of pizza?” She laughed.
“I don’t know. He’s perfect for you. There’s very little I think he could do that would make you break up with him. You want to break up and it has literally nothing to do with him.”
She wrinkled her nose and looked at the door for a moment. “Did you get all that El?” She asked.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about!” But her voice drifted away as if she was walking down the hall.
“Gossip,” she repeated.
“Pull yourself together, you look like you just cried. I’ll go tell Harry the good news,” he offered. “And if Evan ever comes to your classroom again uninvited, call the police.”
“Seems a bit dramatic,” she muttered and went to her bathroom to try and get the redness around her eyes to disappear.
After a few moments of deep breaths and rational thoughts that reminded herself that she was being ridiculous, there was a knock on the bathroom door. There was only one person present who would politely knock and wait. She pulled the door open and poor, sweet Harry looked nervous as hell. She imagined he spent the last few minutes pacing her backyard refusing Eleanor’s offer to go listen in through the door.
“Louis said you’re not going t’break up with me, but I’d really like you t’tell me,” he ran a hand through his hair.
She tilted her head at him. “Harry,” she said gently.
“I jus’…” he swallowed. “I love you so much, Bird. S’like the easiest thing I’ve ever done, and I don’t want y’stupid ex t’make y’believe that y’aren’t worth—”
“After the wedding, can I move in with you?” She interrupted. Harry’s voice broke off mid-word and he simply stared at her in disbelief. “Maybe we can rent out this place and then… I don’t know what comes after that. I know it’s all very fast, moving in together within a year and all the time we spend together and all the time that’s spent on my class but—”
Harry yanked her to him and took a breath that sounded like he had been holding it since the afternoon. “Yes,” he nodded, kissed the top of her head. “Whatever y’want. M’at y’service,” he assured her, his voice full of relief.
She smiled. “I love you,” she reminded him.
Another breath left him full of crushing relief. His shoulders sank and he squeezed her hard. “Yeah? Good,” he chuckled awkwardly. “That’s… that’s really good.”
She giggled. “You’re a tattletale.”
“It was a matter of safety.”
“For who?”
“Your heart… and mine.”
“Yeah… that’s true.”
He kissed her temple and squeezed her tight again. “I love you,” he sighed, quietly shutting up the little voice that sounded like her ex in her head.
“I love you too.”
*
“Miss Bee, can’t we have you again next year?” Amara asked while she licked the popsicle that her teacher brought in. Her room was going to be a sticky mess. Exactly how the last day of school should have looked, she thought.
She grinned. “Well, I have to prepare a whole bunch of new kindergarteners for first grade. And don’t you think they’ll be lucky to have me?” She winked.
Milo’s lower lip jutted out and his eyes were shiny with tears while his popsicle melted on his hand. Zara frowned too. “But we love you, Miss Bee. We don’t want to go to first grade.”
She pouted. “Well… I love you all, too. I’ll still be in this room. You can always come say hi to me,” she promised. “I still go to baseball games, soccer games, and dance recitals,” she reminded them. “You guys are too smart for me now, you’ll have to come back and teach me all about first grade,” she said knowingly. “Don’t be sad, guys and gals, this is a good thing,” but even her heart was heavy because of the sweet, good group that was leaving her. At this age, out of sight out of mind was very likely. Plus, this was the class that brought Harry to her life. She wasn’t going to forget about them any time soon. “If you’re all going to be sad and grumpy then we can’t have a final day surprise,” she shrugged.
Twenty pairs of eyes all turned to look at her with rapt attention. “Surprise?” Kai asked, expectation glittering in his eyes.
She shrugged again. “I don’t know, the surprise is for happy almost-first graders. I can’t have my surprise thinking this is a sad day not a party day.”
They all giggled and licked their popsicles in various tropical colors. They brightened a bit more with each pass of the word surprise. “What kind of surprise?” Brayden asked.
But said surprise was knocking on the door. Everyone gasped in excitement as Harry and Niall entered the room. “Miss Bee, where are the kindergarteners?!” Niall asked dramatically, putting his hand over his brow and scanning the room like they couldn’t be seen.
She smiled as the class laughed. “I don’t know Mr. Niall. I think they’re all grown up now.”
“Oh wow, Mr. Niall, I think we got a new crew ready for the site,” Harry said looking at the tables of little ones eating their popsicles and their final little project in front of them (a summer bucket list; made to look like a sand pail and shovel that Harry had helped cut out the night before).
“Mr. Harry,” Janie giggled tugging on his pant leg as he paused near her. “We’re still too little to work on a construction paper job.”
He laughed, gave Kaleb a fist bump as he held his hand out when Harry walked by. She knew that Evan would say something like your hand’s covered in popsicle and this suit is expensive. But Harry didn’t mind at all.
“Mr. Harry do you remember when I dressed up as a doctor and Miss Bee got a bloody nose?” DJ asked.
Harry chuckled and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, lad. I remember.”
“I don’t think I want to be a doctor anymore.”
“No? DJ, you’d be a great doctor,” she frowned.
“Miss Bee, my popsicle got on my dress!” Zara gasped. She crouched beside Zara to help with the wardrobe fiasco. Niall took a seat between Mae and Hadley. They both giggled at his large body crunched into a small chair and Harry grabbed a popsicle from the cooler filled with ice that she lugged all by herself to her classroom because she arrived earlier than Harry expected that morning. He passed one to Niall and then sat across from DJ.
“What do y’want t’be instead, DJ?” Harry asked.
“I’m going to be a teacher, like Miss Bee,” he said knowingly.
Her attention snapped toward him. She swallowed hard, the emotion catching in her throat. She wasn’t going to cry. She muttered it to herself this morning while she walked in with a box to fill with items that needed to come home for the summer. She said it to herself last night while Harry brushed his teeth beside her while she did her skincare routine. She wasn’t going to cry.
She wasn’t going to cry.
“Me too!” Mae bounced excitedly.
“Me three!” And around the room almost all of them said they wanted to change their profession to teaching.
“I still have my future crew and y’can’t have them Miss Bee,” Harry winked at her and high-fived Milo across the table.
“That’s very sweet, my loves,” she frowned. After her whole speech telling them not to be sad, she couldn’t help but feel the emotion wracking her body. Harry simply smiled at her, licking his popsicle so his lips turned blue.
“Miss Bee,” Tyler raised his hand. “Mr. Harry has a surprise from us.”
Now her attention moved from the wardrobe malfunction (nothing a little water couldn’t fix) and looked at Harry.
Harry, who painstakingly endured countless long afternoons in her classroom, post-work, since he started dating her. Who sat through so many chaotic family dinners. Listening to what could only be described as elementary school-bad chorus concerts, watched ridiculously silly soccer games, and carried her to bed after falling asleep on the couch. All to do it over and over without complaint every week. Harry, who was going to help her carry boxes to her sister’s wedding despite that he wasn’t even going to be attending. The kindest, most patient man she ever met. “Does he?” Her voice felt weak.
He winked at her. Niall dropped his popsicle stick into the trash can and moved to open the outside door. “You’re all little traitors,” she whispered in exaggeration to the group. They all giggled in response.
Harry and Niall came through the door, and she swore her heart stopped.
“Isn’t it cool Miss Bee?!” Janie clapped excitedly. “We all helped. Mr. Harry came to art class.”
A rocking chair was painted white, Miss Bee written across the top, each slat painted like a pencil, pen, crayon, ruler. The seat was painted like a piece of lined paper. It was just like the ones she found on Pinterest. Just like the one she didn’t have time to make nor the money to buy it.
“Oh,” she sucked her lip into her mouth. Put a hand on her chest to keep her heart from bruising against the inside of her ribs.
“Mr. Harry had us sign it,” Kai said and pointed to the slats that lined the arm rest, the legs as well. Her eyes welled with tears. “Harry,” she whispered. He winked at her. The time it must have taken, the planning, the energy, how he pulled it off so that not one of the little ones squealed, she had no idea.
“What do you guys think? We need to break it in with one last story time?” Niall said cheerfully and the little ones cheered once more and headed to her colorful carpet while he carried it over. They all admired it, pointing out their names to Niall while he gave her a moment to collect her emotions.
“Y’know,” Harry cleared his throat from beside her as she picked up some of the popsicle sticks and quickly wiped down the tables that were undeniably sticky with the melted fruit juice with a paper towel. It would need a second pass with the disinfectant wipes before the custodians moved all her stuff into the hall to wax the floors.
She looked at Harry, his smile gentle as could be while he watched her. Like she was the center of the universe. The feeling of being completely adored and loved was so warm she thought the kids and Niall would overheat just being present in the same room. His gaze dropped to her hand while he gently rubbed her fourth finger between his thumb and forefinger. “If m’lucky enough, and you’re okay with it, one day your name will be Mrs. Styles. But here in this room,” he shook his head and smiled so fondly at the little group ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the rocking chair he made for her, “I think you’re always going t’be called Miss Bee.”
--
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From Me/warnings: a sick fic, fluffy, angsty stuff, and Evan
Summary: “Y’scared me,” he admitted. “Not quite falling off your roof, but close. Y’do this t’all your boyfriends?” There was a smile in his voice. “S’this a test of some kind?” She snorted and then winced. “Sorry,” he kissed her forehead. “No jokes.”
March was the longest month of the year.
Teachers should be paid double in the month of March.
She groaned as her alarm went off and her head felt like a balloon was taking residence where her brain was supposed to be. Or behind her eyes. And her ears. Then there was the whole thing with her nose and her throat. Pretty much anything an otolaryngologist would oversee, felt like it was swollen.
Standing up, she moaned again. It felt like her skin hurt. Without turning on the light, she made it to her bathroom. Blindly she reached for the cabinet door of the vanity. As she opened it, it came off in her hand and dropped on her foot, corner first of course. She hissed and rubbed her other foot on top of her injury while the broken door flopped to the ground too loudly for that early in the morning and for someone that felt like they were suffering from the worst hangover of their life.
Sighing she felt blindly for the thermometer among the shelves in the cabinet.
It was definitely DJ. DJ coughed and sneezed all over everything last week regardless of how many times she reminded him of good hygiene practices. There wasn’t enough hand sanitizer and anti-bacterial soap in the world to stop the super germs of kindergarteners.
Moaning she made her way back to her bed and flopped down. No fever. Despite the fact she felt like she was sweating. All she wanted was a break. One little day. But no fever meant this was doable. It was just a cold. She would sleep for another hour. Show up on time instead of early. She’d been doing this long enough so that she could wing together anything that needed to be put together in a last-minute, last-ditch effort and it would still turn out okay, at least. Either way, the little ones wouldn’t know. Miss Bee would be her happy normal self, just a little sniffly. A little sweaty. A little tired.
She just needed one extra hour of sleep.
*
Harry was worried.
She didn’t answer him yesterday afternoon. Not that he demanded nor needed her undivided attention, but he had never seen her leave work early (early for her, that is). He wasn’t quite sure how he missed her. It was probably like a bad sitcom. Harry saw her at dismissal, fortunately there was no Evan so maybe he didn’t feel the need to keep an eye on her as close as he normally did. That was perhaps his mistake. So, when he looked back, she was gone. He headed down the path to her classroom door, peered in like an absolute creep. He was lucky he did the background check that first day he met her. He was certain the police would have been by to arrest him otherwise. But her lights were off. A novelty. In the six months he had known her, not once had he approached her classroom after school and found it, for all intents and purposes, dark.
It was Tuesday. They always laminated and cut paper on Tuesdays.
He frowned at her empty classroom. Hey Bird, everything okay? You leaving in a hurry for something?
How had he missed her? It went unanswered and after school she was usually pretty, immediately responsive. Running a hand through his hair, he headed back up the path. Her car was gone, and he swore it had to be a joke that he was missing her. He imagined if he was crazy enough to run closer to the road, he would have caught the sight of her taillights heading off.
Turning to his car he sighed. He could swing by her house. That would be a normal boyfriend thing to do, right? It wasn’t crazy, or stalkerish, right?
Right?
“No after school special?” Niall asked.
Once he headed for her classroom, Harry rarely saw Niall after school let out. Niall was just one ladder rung (no pun intended) below Harry on the jobsite, and he was kind enough to check things over at quitting time just so Harry could get even a few extra minutes alone with his pretty bird.
“I guess not,” he mumbled. “S’a bit unlike her. Leaving so quickly. Not answering her texts…”
The one he sent at lunch time because he hadn’t seen her at recess either… Harry’s stomach churned uneasily. Was it something he did? No, it couldn’t be… Their date on Sunday was fine. Everything was fine. So, unless it was something Evan said the day before, or something her pretty brain conjured up in her mind, everything was fine.
“Maybe it was a family emergency,” he shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll text you soon. Don’t stress so much.”
But even if it was nothing to worry about, it still worried him because it was so unlike her. “Driving by her house would be…?”
“Creepy,” Niall stated.
“It would, wouldn’t it?” He grumbled. “She said I could come by any time,” he reminded Niall. They stood facing one another, separated by Harry’s car, Niall leaning back against his driver’s door while Harry leaned against his hood.
“Mm, that’s true. Maybe you could be in the neighborhood. Drive by just to see if she’s home? Maybe she’s just had a long day, and she went home,” he suggested.
Harry nodded. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered. It just sounded so unlike her. Harry really hoped everything was okay. “Yeah. I’ll drive by,” he confirmed to himself and got in his car without much more thought of it. He sped a little faster and headed to the familiar house with its patched roof and painted shut windows. He wanted to ask her to move in, it would be so much easier, but he knew she loved this house. He didn’t blame her. It was adorable, a great area, and so completely her. If it weren’t for the fact he loved her so much, he probably would have already asked her to abandon it.
He parked in the driveway beside her car, his anxiety easing a little as he headed up the path to her front door and knocked. But then his anxiety kicked right back up as his knock went unanswered. He frowned. Called her phone. Which also went unanswered.
Harry felt bad he was tattling, but he remembered her rule was that it wasn’t tattling if it was a safety concern and there was no question that Harry was concerned for her safety. Hey Louis, it’s Harry. Have you heard from her today? She’s not answering her phone…
No, I haven’t. She must be sick. She’s probably trying to sleep it off and isn’t fully coherent. It’s pretty much the only time her phone goes unanswered. Did she go to work today? She’s insane ya know. I’ll check with her sister just to be safe.
Harry felt only the most minor bouts of relief. However, he was still upset if she was ill and went to work and was hiding it.
I’m… actually at her house. Do you think it’s alright to go in and check on her? She’s not answering the door.
Oh yeah, she’s got an open-door policy for loved ones anyway. Probably especially for you. The spare is on the back side of the welcome sign. It’s hooked on a magnet, can’t miss it. Let me know if she’s worse for wear than we thought.
Harry felt all kinds of emotions as he hurried to find the key and get inside her house. “Hey Bird,” he called, putting the key on the entry table and locking the door behind him. “Y’home?” He asked and kicked his shoes off. It still felt creepy whether he had been granted permission or not. “Kitten,” he called quietly again. “Y’making me a bit nervous,” he admitted and headed through the small hall looking for her. “Oh fuck,” he frowned. She was lying on the bathroom floor. The shower was running, hot steam filling the small room she was almost hard to see. One shoe had fallen off her foot. Her face looked peaceful other than the small wrinkle between her brows like she was in pain. “Hey,” he turned the water off and then crouched beside her. The door to the vanity was gone and flopped on the floor haphazardly. Shit, was she unconscious? Did it hit her? “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered and gently moved her so he could cradle her in his lap. “Kitten?” He tried again. “Bird, m’love, wake up,” he encouraged stroking her face and gently nudging her as best he could without moving her too much in fear the door did hit her head. Then maybe she hit her head again going down. But there was no bump, no cut, not a drop of blood on her face.
She groaned low and long. Pain evident in her face as the peace of her face disappeared and the little stitch in her forehead deepened. “No,” she whined.
“Hey,” he whispered. Relief flooded him. “Bird, s’matter? What happened?”
She coughed hard. Her body was shaking. “S’cold.”
Harry was sweating and so was she. He brushed his hand on the back of her forehead, clammy and a little warm, but not feverish. “Oh, baby,” he frowned.
“M’sleepy.”
“Why didn’t y’say something?” he asked and curled her closer.
“Don’t move me, m’head hurts,” she begged. Making all of Harry’s fears about hitting her head come right back. “I think it’s going to explode,” she explained.
“What’s going t’explode, m’love?”
“My head.”
His heart took off three times as fast. “Bird, did the door hit your head?”
“No, my foot,” she muttered. She was taking him on a roller coaster, and the highs and lows were so jarring he wanted to cry. He glanced at her feet, but she was wearing tights so he couldn’t see anything. “M’head hurts,” she repeated. “I think it’s gonna explode.”
“Kitten,” he frowned. “What happened?”
“M’sick.”
“Why did y’go t’work, Bird?” He whispered and gently scooped her up, one shoe and all. She moaned and tucked her face into his chest.
“No fever.”
“Kitten,” he tisked. “Jus’ because y’don’t have a fever doesn’t mean—”
“Shh…” she sighed. “Please,” her voice cracked, “it hurts so much, and m’so close to crying and then it’ll hurt worse,” she begged, hardly more than a whisper escaped her.
Harry pressed his lips together, brought her to her room and laid her on top of the covers. He kissed the center of her forehead. Wrapping her up in so many blankets she had in the basket from when her room was an icebox. She coughed something fierce, making Harry nearly want to cry for her. She moaned and fell back against her pillow and then was so silent Harry would have seriously worried for a second that she had died if he hadn’t been able to hear her quiet snore through her stuffy nose.
After assuring himself she was alive, he went to her kitchen. His eyes scanned briefly looking for something to help him help her. All the spices were all lined neatly in a shallow little tray—like one you would use to carry items on the patio in the summer. Harry quickly removed them all, leaving them on the counter and searched through her drawers and cabinets looking for things that she would need.
Medicine—cold, flu, anti-inflammatory, pain relievers, cough drops. All of it went on the tray. Next, he grabbed one of her water cups filled in the fridge and placed it with the medicine. Had she eaten? He had no idea, but that would have to wait. He would have to order soup from somewhere nearby. Mum swore by chicken noodle. It was medicinal in its own way. He returned to find her still sound asleep.
It was going to kill him to wake her. But his chest hurt knowing she was unwell. “Baby,” he whispered softly. Almost too softly as he set the tray on her dresser. He grabbed a handful of drugs and her water cup and approached her. “Bird, m’love,” he cooed and gently stroked her face again.
“No,” she whimpered. “No, it hurts,” she didn’t open her eyes, but her lashes developed tiny little crystals, breaking his heart as she sniffled.
“No, baby, don’t cry,” he begged stroking her face as lightly as he could. “I have t’give you medicine. Then you go right back t’sleep, I promise, kitten. M’sorry baby. I’m so sorry.”
She cried anyway. Nonetheless, she did as he asked. Harry placed pills at her lips, and she swallowed her medicine, drank three huge gulps of water, all with her eyes closed. Harry put everything on the tray, climbed into her bed, sitting up against the headboard and brought her head down to his lap. Her cries subsided after a few minutes all while Harry hushed her and as carefully as he could massaged her scalp with his fingertips. When the sniffles and tears finally stopped, Harry felt more relieved than when he realized she wasn’t ignoring him, just simply too sick to move.
While she slept, Harry ordered soup from his phone and continued her head massage for a while. When there was a knock on the door for the soup delivery (seven different soups, two chicken noodle, but other options just in case), Harry slowly removed himself from her bed.
He put all the soup on the counter and headed back to her room. He slowly pulled the covers away from her, whatever the cold medicine he gave her was enough to make her boneless. Her body was hard to move but he would do it slowly and carefully to make her feel better.
Even sick, she was adorable. So cute and pretty Harry almost smiled. She wore a plaid dress with large buttons down the center. A shirt below it since the straps were thin and the neckline was low. Slowly he unbuttoned each one and coaxed her sleeping figure out of her outfit. He removed her remaining shoe, then tore the tights off her legs. He made a mental note to buy her another pair. He couldn’t imagine anything more constricting than the elastic digging into her skin when she wasn’t feeling well. His eyes checked her foot, nothing more than a scrape—not too serious of an injury, thankfully.
In just her underwear, he reached beneath her and unhooked her bra, and he swore she sighed with relief as he removed it from her body. He noted a sweatshirt at the end of her bed. He hadn’t seen it before since his focus was on wrapping her in blankets and nothing else. He grabbed it, slid it over her head and she once more sighed, nuzzling into the collar like she was awake. His heart throbbed painfully in his chest as the Under Construction logo stared back at him. When had she taken this? Not that he cared. Did she sleep in it when he wasn’t around? God, she was cute.
“Harry,” she murmured.
Her sweet, adorable self was going to kill him. He practically groaned hearing her sleep-talk about him. Gently he kissed her forehead, wrapped her back up in her blankets, and left the room once more.
The bathroom looked like a crime scene. The shower curtain was half off the rod, some of the plastic rings were broken. Like she crawled to turn the water on and grabbed the curtain to help herself up. His heart clenched at the thought. He propped the vanity cabinet door against the wall. He’d fix that another day when the sound of his drill wouldn’t hurt her aching head. Then he grabbed her other shoe. She even brought her work bag in with her, which was open and spilling onto the floor as well. Some of the papers inside curled from the steam she made from turning the shower on too hot. Good thing she didn’t get in, she would have burned herself.
Everything alright? Louis texted.
She’s real sick. I just gave her some medicine and put her to bed.
Good. She loves to watch Disney movies when she’s sick. Loves ginger ale. Even if it’s not a stomach thing. Swears it soothes her throat. Harry went to the fridge and grabbed a can of soda as well.
Good to know. I’ll put some on. Her head was killing her.
She gets migraines when she’s run down. Harry swore to himself and sighed. He should have known.
Shit. Thanks. I’ll… keep you posted.
Harry returned to her room, she was still asleep, soundly. He felt relieved. He placed her bag by the door and crawled back onto the bed beside her. He continued his scalp massage and eventually, he found himself asleep too.
*
She missed her un-insulated room. It was much too hot, and she thought she was going to combust. She moaned quietly, her head still aching, though she could at least move without fear of passing out or throwing up or both.
Her skin still hurt, and her body ached all over. How did she not have a fever?
“Hey pretty bird,” his voice was low and rumbly in her ear. Good God, did he sound good for her tired body. “Y’awake?” He asked.
She blinked, her head still felt balloon like and not quite attached to her neck as she turned to look up at Harry gazing down at her in the near dark. Everything had a blurry dark gray-blue tint. Like it was about to downpour. “Hmm…” she hummed. Her forehead pounded. She thought her brain was trying to escape. “Harry?” She questioned. She didn’t remember seeing him after school. How did she get home? How did she get in her bed? Was she naked? How did that happen?
There were too many questions and not enough brain power to answer them all.
“Hi baby,” he whispered. Her head might have hurt, and she was sweating beneath the blankets and her Amazonian-like room, but her stomach was working just fine and somersaulted over the softness of Harry calling her baby when she didn’t feel good.
She spent six hours a day, five days a week caring for little ones. Ensuring they were happy, healthy, and learning. She spent an undoubtedly high number thinking about them seven days a week. Since moving out of her parents’ home at eighteen, no one had cared for her or been so gentle with her (especially not Evan) when she was sick since she was young. Not even herself. She tried to push herself up, but Harry gently pushed her back down. “Hey, no, no,” he cooed softly. “Jus’ stay still, yeah?” He asked. “Jus’ rest,” he ordered.
“What…?” She swallowed, the feeling in her throat was dry, sore, painful. She cleared her throat which felt like knives.
“Here,” he slithered lower in her bed and brought the straw of her cup to her lips. The water tasted like chocolate. Not actual chocolate, but the idea of having chocolate prior to getting your period and it tasted so good she wished she could swim in it. He rubbed his thumb on her temple while she sipped, easing the tension she felt in her eyebrows trying to pinch her forehead in the middle. “How are y’feeling, kitten?” His breath was cool and minty. Did he ever smell bad? Probably not. She remembered every unseasonably warm day in October that Harry never smelled gross despite working in the hot sun. What an unfair glitch. She probably smelled like sweat right then. And a cough. Whatever that smelled like. “Y’scared me,” he admitted. “Not quite falling off your roof, but close. Y’do this t’all your boyfriends?” There was a smile in his voice. “S’this a test of some kind?” She snorted and then winced. “Sorry,” he kissed her forehead. “No jokes.”
“Did you undress me?” Was that really the most pressing question she needed answered?
A wave of guilt washed over Harry. He felt his face warm with embarrassment. He was so focused on making her feel better, he hadn’t considered that she wouldn’t want him undressing her unconscious body. “Yes, m’sorry. I jus’ wanted you t’be comfortable,” he frowned. “Did I mess up?” He asked. “M’sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“No, no,” she said softly and squeezed his hip where her hand rested. She could hear the guilt in his voice and no, she decided, it wasn’t the most pressing question to ask him. She shouldn’t have bothered. Harry had seen her naked countless times in the last six months. That wasn’t something he should have felt guilty over. “Mi body es su body,” she joked lamely. “I’m sweating,” she said softly and pushed the blankets away from her. Harry helped unravel her from her cocoon. Harry reached across her to grab the remote control to the fan that she normally had blowing on her, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to turn on when she was shivering earlier. He could see her physically deflate once the cool air spilled over her. “I thought I tried showering,” she cleared her throat again. It hurt less since there was water coating her esophagus, but it still ached quite a bit.
“You did,” his frown was still etched on his pretty lips. “Baby, y’scared me so much,” he was so close to her face. “Y’didn’t tell me y’weren’t feeling well. Didn’t answer,” he pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“You’re gonna get sick,” she whispered.
“Then I get sick,” he shrugged. But he was pretty confident in his immune system. Even if he was doing manual labor, she worked about two to three times harder than him. Probably more rundown than he was in comparison. “Why didn’t’ y’tell me?” He asked.
She turned her head to cough, and he continued stroking her hair. “I don’t really think straight when I’m sick,” she explained. “I use every spare bit of energy to focus on the kids at school.”
He was downright pouting in the shadowy dark she could barely see him in. “Y’shouldn’t have gone t’work.”
“You don’t know how much more work it is to make sub plans.”
“I would have made them for you,” he assured her. Her chest ached with love for him so hard it felt like a rib was going to crack. “Would have gone in t’teach them even.”
She smiled and willed her tired, overrun body not to cry at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That’s so sweet to offer.”
“You can’t go t’work tomorrow.”
“I feel so much better… what time is it?”
“S’late. I got y’soup. Are y’hungry?”
She sat up slowly, put one hand to her temple and slid out of bed. “I probably need to eat. I skipped lunch in favor of not dying and napping instead.”
“Miss Bird,” Harry frowned and walked her down the hall to her kitchen. She didn’t turn on any lights and she looked at the six cartons of soup on her counter.
“You got me a lot of soup,” she murmured and squinted to read the labels in the semi dark. The low glow of the clock on her stove said it was a little after nine. She sighed. Tomorrow would be better, right? This was the worst of it. Harry opened a soda can, and she turned to see him offer the ginger ale to her. She stared at him in disbelief. “Did you text Louis?”
“Bird, I was scared. I thought I did something wrong or worse y’were hurt,” she was a little too in love with the thought that was the order of severity for him.
“That’s very sweet,” she sipped the cold soda, the bubbles soothing the ache in her throat the way the water had but it was still sweeter and better even though it made no sense.
“What kind of soup do y’want?” He asked.
“Whatever will make me better to deal with six-year-olds by six AM.”
“Y’cannot be serious,” he shook his head and put two pints of soup into the microwave.
“It’s too late for sub plans. If I try to look at a computer right now, I’m sure I’ll have an aneurysm.”
“Kitten. S’not a good idea. You’ll be sick and tired. The kids will—”
“I’ve done this before, I know what I’m doing!” She protested. “I promise.”
“Jus’ because you’ve done it before means y’should. Nor do I agree with you.”
She nodded. She noted that Harry stopped the microwave before it beeped and opened the door as quietly as possible. He poured the soup into bowls and was cautious not to let the spoons clink against the glass. Her heart swam in the warmth of love that crushed her. Harry saw more of her and cared for her more in the last six months (even in the last six hours) than anyone ever had. “I need to shower,” she said while she welcomed the burns that she was giving her tongue and the inside of her mouth as she ate her soup. It felt soothing in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
Harry took the soup away from her and brought it to the small table she had between her kitchen and living room. He came back and tugged her to the chair in front of her bowl. He ate across from her. In the dark. Only the light from the streetlight barely filtering past her blinds.
“Can I stay in the bathroom while y’do?” He asked referring to her statement on showering.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“M’not sure y’understand how nervous y’made me. I’ll leave after that,” he promised.
I don’t want you to leave. It would have been so easy to say. Harry was so comforting, and he felt so good to sleep next to. It seemed she had been asleep for at least five hours, and she wanted nothing more than to stay snuggled next to him. But he had to work tomorrow, and he needed to be awake at four. “Okay,” she sighed. “It’s really not necessary,” she repeated.
“Mmm,” he hummed.
*
Harry made her blow dry her hair, it was loud and made her head throb, but he refused to let her go to bed with wet hair. “You’ll get an ear infection or something,” he insisted. Which sounded like an old wives’ tale, but his thoughtfulness was too much. He gave her another round of medicine and kissed her forehead once he had her comforter tucked around her in bed. “Good night, Miss Bird,” he said softly. “Please consider not going t’work tomorrow,” he repeated.
“Okay,” she whispered softly.
She felt sleepy, warm, cared for, and comforted. She wished she could open her mouth to ask Harry to stay. It felt sad to see him go. Overwhelmed by how bad she was feeling. She knew he would stay. But it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t showered the day off him, and he would be up in a little under six hours by the time he’d get settled in bed in his own house. “S’matter?” He asked.
“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Just don’t feel good,” she sniffed and tried, tried so hard to push her emotions down so she wouldn’t cry. If she cried, Harry would worry. He would stay and the poor thing probably wanted to go home and sleep in his own bed just as much as she wanted to sleep without pain.
“Hey,” he cooed. “Baby,” and she was done for. Tears spilled over before she could stop them. The dim light from the hall catching those little water crystals like diamonds in the sun. How on earth this beautiful girl made crying look so pretty had to be one of the greatest paradoxes in the world. “No baby, don’t cry,” he swiped the tears away.
“I know you want to go home, but I don’t want you to,” she sniveled.
His heart broke. She was a beautiful grown woman and he loved her so much. She was adorable, just his sweatshirt around her pretty, sick body. Even though Harry had spent hours taking care of her, she still felt like she had to take care of him. “Kitten, I don’t want t’leave you at all. I never want t’leave you, why would y’think that?”
She felt so ridiculous. Sad, tired, sick, run down, exhausted. “Because it’s late and you have to get up early and you haven’t showered and I’m so gross and so much work and it’s—”
“Bird, m’love, shh,” he hushed her ranting and shifted himself on the bed and combed her hair. “Y’can always ask me t’stay,” he whispered. “Shh,” he whispered, shifting her to lay against his chest. He rocked her gently. “M’gonna let y’fall asleep. Then I’ll shower and come right back, yeah?” He offered. “I don’t have t’go anywhere,” he promised.
“Okay,” she sniffled. “I’m sor—”
“Shh,” he kissed the top of her head. “I love you, bird. Go to sleep.”
“I love you too,” she croaked.
“Good, now sleep, baby,” he murmured.
So she had no choice but to listen.
*
Harry’s alarm went off at four. She moaned quietly against his chest. He kissed the top of her head like he’d been awake the whole time waiting to wake her up gently. “M’gonna go home, baby,” that name warmed her. It felt like the medicine he gave her. “S’that okay? I can come back. S’not far. I’ll be quick.” It nearly broke his heart to hear how sad she was last night. He was going to address their living situation as soon as she felt better. This felt like he was going to war and not five minutes around the corner. He could sense her thinking it over in that pretty brain of hers. It spun over in her mind, and she wanted nothing more than to ask but he knew she wouldn’t.
Even in the dark he could see it. “No, that’s alright,” she murmured very softly.
He was already planning on coming back. He shouldn’t have bothered to ask. “Okay, go back t’sleep, bird. I’ll check on you at recess,” he assured her. “How do y’feel?”
“Better.”
It was a little bit of the truth mixed with some untruth. Her head still throbbed, her throat still hurt. But it was better than yesterday. She knew she wasn’t going to have a fever. After a few more mumbled words to Harry, she was only half certain she remembered to say, “I love you,” and only vaguely aware that her front door closed before she was asleep again.
When her alarm went off at six, (what felt like five minutes later from Harry’s departure), she wasn’t the one to turn it off. She groaned softly, turning to find Harry settling her phone back on her nightstand. She frowned immediately, her eyes watering. “You came back,” she whispered keeping up with the thought of Harry going to off to war and not just to his house.
He chuckled quietly, kissed her forehead again. “I couldn’t leave you, kitten. Not when y’feel so poorly, Bird,” he answered. She wondered if she could permanently fix his fingers to her hair and scalp. He smelled so good, again. He showered again and was wearing cologne. Everything about his presence was like a warm hug, physical medicine that would have fixed her up if he wasn’t giving her actual medicine.
“But what about work?”
“I can be late. They know what they’re doing.”
“I love you, so much.”
He chuckled. “I love you, too, baby.”
“I think I should sleep another hour.”
He nestled further into the pillows, wrapping her close to him, and he kissed her again. “Whatever y’want, kitten.”
*
Harry was insistent on driving in together. He gave her another round of medicine. Got her bag organized, her lunch packed. Hoping it would get her more time to rest while he did those things. He drove her car, parked in her unassigned but assigned parking space. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and headed to the job site promising once more he would check on her at recess.
Other than completely, totally sweet, she thought nothing more of his kindness. There wasn’t enough time to think about it. There was morning work to deal with, attendance to submit, lunch counts, and all the other parts of her morning routine to take care of while her head felt like someone was hammering the inside of her skull repeatedly. By the time the kids had settled onto the carpet, she wasn’t thinking about Harry (as much as she wanted to). Her head hurt and her kids were needy.
So, she did a true double take while Mae was reading the date and schedule for the day to the rest of the class when the door to her classroom opened. Her jaw dropped and many of her students’ eyes followed her gaze.
“Mr. Harry!” Hadley shouted.
Any of the students that hadn’t turned to him all turned to the door at that moment. There was visitor sticker on his chest. He was wearing regular clothes. A long-sleeved shirt, a pair of jeans, and trainers instead of work boots.
The excitement unfolded quickly. Her minor wince made his heart ache for her. It was his fault; he caused the excitement. “Hey, hey, hocus pocus,” he called gently.
“Everybody focus!”
She now understood why Harry found that so attractive when she did that. That was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen him do. (And he did this thing with his tongue that was truly mind-blowing.) She coughed into her elbow and shook her head. “Mr. Harry… We weren’t expecting you,” she said quietly.
He smiled. “I was thinking I haven’t been t’school in a long time and I wanted t’do some learning. Do we have an extra spot for me today?”
The group cheered while she sneezed into her tissue. She wiped her nose daintily, dropped it into the small trash can he had no doubt was filled with tissues already and knew the can was following her around the classroom.
“Miss Bee is sick,” Brayden explained.
Her cheeks turned pink which was great because she needed a bit of color for Harry to allow her to stay and not drag her out the room and back home. She used hand sanitizer attached to her lanyard. “Is she?” He frowned. He thought of the sweet girl crying into his shirt as she fell asleep last night. She looked so normal right now. Pretending. Hiding. Showing up for her students because she loved them beyond her own well-being.
Well, two could play at that game.
“You don’t have to work?” She asked suspiciously.
“Nope,” he said simply. “School’s more important.”
She rolled her lips into her mouth and hid her cough in her elbow again. Harry winked at her and took a seat on her carpet. Janie giggled as his big body overflowed the square he picked. He gave Janie a high five and she was pretty certain one over her ovaries was popping. Everyone was still kind of giggly over his presence. “Think we gotta let Mae continue, yeah?”
Her heart simply burst.
*
During reading time, Harry read a chapter of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for her. Like he read to the group every day. Harry asked questions. Good questions. Prompted them to think, ask their own questions, make predictions. How could she possibly love him more? He walked around to her groups when she was too tired to check on them. When she coughed too hard, he brought her water cup across the room. He made sure she ate lunch, walked around the perimeter of the playground (stopping at the fence to get a hot cup of tea from Niall to soothe her throat).
When the kids went to specials, she stared at Harry. “You can’t skip work every time I’m sick.”
He simply smiled, continued helping her clean, and organized while they were gone. “Watch me, baby.”
Her cheeks burned.
But truth be told he was exhausted. More exhausted than he thought. She did this every day? Teachers should be paid triple. Double that amount in March. In like a lion out like a lamb was wrong. In like a lion out like a tornado was more like it.
Harry would need a counter next time. She must have repeated directions eight times in the span of a minute. Settling student disputes and sending an email at the same time was a choreographed dance. She punched the straw through three juice boxes while reading the slide off the SmartBoard at the same time. All while feeling like death warmed over.
He knew she was a superhero. He didn’t need proof. But it was something else to watch up close.
“What?” She sniffled. Not once did she complain about her head, the cough, her sneeze. “Do I have snot on my face? I’m gonna crawl in a hole and—”
“You are incredible Miss Bird. Everyone in the world should have t’go t’school for a day. But everyone should have to try a day in your classroom.”
She smiled weakly. “Some days are easier than others.”
“Did I make today easier?”
She nodded. “Yes. So much so. That was….” She shook her head. “Thank you. I needed that.”
He smiled. “Good.”
*
She skipped family dinner. She was sick and wanted to lounge in bed. She was going to be behind in life, work, and at home for a week. But it was the best she could do.
She ate one of the soups Harry left for dinner. Then he came around at six PM. “Hey, pretty bird, did y’nap?”
God, she loved him. She loved him so much it seemed insane that she did anything but say it. There should be no work. No jobs. She should just be required to say “Harry I love you” twenty-four hours a day, three-hundred and sixty-five days a year.
“And had soup,” she murmured into his shirt. He smelled so good. There was a bag over his shoulder.
“Good girl,” he scooped her up behind her thighs, wrapped them around his hips and carried her to her bedroom. He deposited her gently on the bed and then dropped his bag.
“Are you staying?” There was a lot of hope in her voice.
“M-hmm,” he stripped instantly making her heart flutter. He pulled a pair of sweat from his bag and over his legs followed by a T-shirt. “Ratatouille sound good?”
“Louis is a tattletale,” she stated.
He kissed the top of her head and headed to the kitchen to get his own pint of soup. “S’not tattling if we have a safety concern, kitten.”
*
The next day, her brain didn’t feel quite as balloon-like. The cough and sneezing had subsided enough to a manageable level.
But she swore all of it came roaring back when Evan appeared at the end of the day. Like a contagion in his own right. Harry’s gaze was ever-present and warm on the side of her face. Hot, really. She could feel it intensely—more so than the other days. “Milo buddy, watch your shoes.”
She imagined hitting him with one of Milo’s shoes repeatedly. Fortunately, the little one didn’t notice her need for bodily harm.
“Uncle Ev, Miss Bee’s boyfriend came to school yesterday.”
Her heart stopped and she choked on her own spit followed by a massive coughing fit. Evan stared at her with disdain, as did Milo (with curiosity however). She had a hand on her throat, surprised by Milo’s confession. If Evan was bothered by her relationship status, there was no outward expression to indicate it.
“Y’okay, Miss Bee?” Oh Lord.
Harry was suddenly there looking at her like she had a bone protruding. He pulled a water bottle from behind his back. His back pocket?
“Hi Mr. Harry!” Milo bloomed.
“Hey lad, how was kindergarten today? How’s our latest book?” He asked, squeezing his shoulder while avoiding touching Evan.
“I can read Green Eggs and Ham all by myself!”
“S’awesome, lad,” he held his hand out for a high five all while Evan stared in disbelief and she sipped from the bottle.
“Harry helpeded me how to sound out words I don’t know like Miss Bee,” Milo explained.
“Helped, my love,” she said very gently.
He grinned at both Milo and her. Harry hardly looked at Evan. But his eyes couldn’t leave Harry alone. She couldn’t blame him—he was incredible. “I’m sorry. We haven’t met, are you a teachers aid?” He said it condescendingly.
“I wish,” Harry snorted. “Harry Styles. I’m the foreman on the jobsite next door,” he held his hand out for Evan to shake.
“I’m going to work for him when I’m older,” Milo told his uncle.
Could she adopt him? The look of shock on Evan’s face made her want to take a picture.
“Maybe by then I’ll be working for you, lad,” Harry winked.
Could she marry Harry? They’d be a cute little family.
“I’m sorry. I’m lost.”
“Mr. Harry plays with us sometimes,” Milo shrugged casually. Like it was obvious and normal. “Sometimes he volunteers in Miss Bee’s room and fixes everything, Uncle Ev. He knows how to fix everything. He fixed Miss Bee’s desk, her bookshelf, her closet. Maybe he could fix the hole in your wall at home for you!”
Adopt, adopt, adopt, adopt. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. Harry chuckled quietly. “I’d be happy t’look at it,” he popped one shoulder up knowing full and well that Evan would never ask Harry for help with home improvements.
“Hmm. Right. Well. Do you have any qualifications teaching?”
“No, but I got a niece m’awfully fond of myself,” he said proudly. “And Miss Bee is a pretty good teacher to show me some of the ropes.”
“Mr. Harry is like Miss Bee. He’s in charge of his crew on the site. It’s so cool Uncle Evan.”
She wondered if he would explode. Harry paid no attention to the praise. “Just came t’check on you,” he put a hand on her lower back briefly. “Y’need help today?” He asked. “I’ll meet y’down in your room. Nice meeting you, Evan. Milo, lad, see you later alligator?”
“In a while crocodile!”
The silence that ensued was deafening. “You have a boyfriend that volunteers in your classroom?” He asked. The distaste in his voice was enough to make her skin crawl but she nodded.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Is that legal?”
She wanted to scream. “Perfectly. He’s got a background check on file, and he doesn’t volunteer the whole day. Yesterday was the first day. I can assure you, he’s a great volunteer, just like any other parent volunteer I’ve had in the past,” it wasn’t unusual for parents to offer volunteer services. Not to the degree Harry was offering them but that probably was the perk of dating him. “The kids like him and his partner, Niall. They say hi to them at recess.”
Evan stared at her. “He spends all that time in your classroom and helping you out for a measly five minutes of a relationship per day?”
She straightened her back, inhaled as best she could through her stuffy nose, and turned her attention to Milo. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my love, alright?” She grinned sweetly. “Evan,” she muttered and headed back inside.
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Summary: Y/n's been dating Harry for a couple of months but a few interactions make her wonder where they really stand. Harry makes sure she knows just how much she means to him.
A/n: They're back! Here, we pick up with them a couple of months after part 2.
Word Count: 6.6k
Warning: age gap, smut, self-doubt, slight angst, a couple of awkward interactions with women in Harry's past
. .
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she said, feeling the clay slip between her fingers again as he guided her hands from behind.
Harry’s quiet laugh brushed warm against her neck. “Maybe. But watching you struggle is adorable.”
She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. He was close enough that she could see the faint gray threading through his hair at the temples, close enough that she could feel his body against her back. God, he smelled good, he always did. The extra effort he consistently put in for her did not go unnoticed.
“You know, when you said you were taking me somewhere different, I had no idea it would be so…” she glanced down at the sloppy spinning mound between their palms, “…messy.”
He grinned, his big hands steadying hers. “Thought you’d appreciate something that wasn’t just dinner and drinks this time.”
“I do,” she admitted, voice a little softer. “It’s just… hard to look cute with mud under my nails.”
Harry turned his face, his mouth near her ear. “You always look cute. Even when you're messy.”
Heat shot straight up her neck. She tried to focus on the lump of clay, but his palm was spread over hers, warm and steady, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d touched her the last time they were together, the Thursday before (though that night was spent just in her apartment and mostly in her bed).
“Careful,” she said quietly. “You’re going to make me mess it up again.”
“It’s already ruined,” he teased, nodding at the uneven lip of the bowl. “But you’re trying. That’s what counts.”
She rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed put. She was having a lot of fun, even if she was awful at pottery work. He'd promised her that they'd actually go out and do something fun this time. She liked it. Liked that he’d planned this as an actual date, not just another excuse to get her into bed. Which part of her worried about, with any guy, not just him.
His hands left hers, and she turned, watching him move away to pick up a rag.
“Let’s call it a masterpiece,” he said, wiping his palms on a towel. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Good.” He met her gaze, soft and lingering. “I want to feed you. Then I want to take you home.”
Her stomach flipped at his words. She wiped her hands clean and tried to pretend her cheeks weren’t burning. But when he took her coat off the back of the chair and held it out for her, she didn’t bother hiding her smile.
The sidewalk was slick from an earlier drizzle, the streetlights turning every puddle into a scattering of gold and red reflections. Y/n felt almost weightless when Harry laced his fingers through hers as they walked. She was still getting used to him.
It was stupid how much it meant, that simple gesture. That he’d hold her hand like that in public, like he wasn’t even thinking twice about it. It felt good, being with him. Easy. Like they’d done it a hundred times already.
Harry glanced down at her as they reached the corner. “You cold?”
“No.” She smiled, leaning closer just because she could. “I’m fine.”
He squeezed her hand lightly, and they turned the corner toward the little restaurant entrance, golden light spilling out onto the sidewalk. That was when the woman stepped into their path. Pretty. Sleek dark coat. High-heeled boots that clicked confidently against the pavement.
Harry slowed, his hand loosening from around Y/n’s.
“Harry?” the woman said, her eyebrows lifting in polite surprise.
Y/n blinked up at her, thrown by the way he'd let go of her hand and in the way she was looking at him.
“Sloane,” Harry said evenly.
Sloane’s gaze slid to Y/n, and for a split second, something sharp flickered behind her eyes before her expression smoothed over. “Crazy running into you here.”
Y/n felt the question rising in her throat—Who is this?—but before she could ask, Sloane smiled, all polite curiosity.
“And… you are?” she prompted, looking at Y/n directly.
“I'm Y/n,” she said, glancing from Sloane to Harry.
“Y/n.” Sloane nodded slowly, lips pressing together. "Let me guess… You're his niece? The one from out of town?"
Her brows pinched together as she glanced up at Harry. She didn't even realize he had a niece. That wasn't something they'd discussed yet.
Harry’s jaw ticked. “She’s not my niece.”
“Oh.” Sloane let out a small, surprised sound, her gaze swinging back to Y/n. “I see.” She paused, studying her for an extra beat, eyes scraping over her frame, before her lips curved again. “Sorry. Just… you look so young. It threw me off. Surely this isn't some kind of date…”
Y/n swallowed, trying to ignore the flush climbing her throat. “I’m not that young.”
"This is a date, actually," Harry said.
Sloane hummed, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Well. That’s nice, Harry.” She flicked her eyes toward him, the corner of her mouth lifting. “I didn’t know you were into…”
Harry’s brows lifted. “Into?”
Sloane waved a hand, dismissive, a laugh trickling from her throat. “Oh, you know. Younger women. It’s sweet. Keeps you young, too, I suppose.”
Y/n opened her mouth, then shut it, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or annoyed. Her voice was calm when she finally spoke. “We’ve been seeing each other, a while.”
“Have you?” Sloane’s gaze sharpened, yet somehow her expression was still pleasant. “Aww, cute. How long?”
Y/n didn't appreciate the condescending tone.
Harry’s voice was even. “About two months now.”
Sloane blinked once, the only crack in her practiced composure. “Two months,” she repeated softly. “Well. That explains it, I guess.”
“Explains what?” Y/n asked, before she could think better of it.
Sloane’s smile thinned. “Nothing. Just… a bit of confusion about why our plans fell through about two months back.” She turned her eyes to Harry again. “I imagine this is why you cancelled on me?”
Harry’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”
For a moment, no one spoke. A car crawled past, headlights sweeping over the three of them in a long, uncomfortable arc.
Sloane’s polite tone returned like a switch had been flipped. “Anyway. I won’t keep you. Enjoy your evening.”
She gave Y/n a final, assessing look that somehow made her feel like she was standing there in a too-short skirt and borrowed shoes, even though she knew she looked fine.
Then Sloane turned and walked off, her heels tapping briskly down the sidewalk. Harry let out a quiet exhale. Y/n didn’t look at him. Her pulse was beating hot in her ears.
“Y/n,” he said gently.
She shook her head, voice tight, eyes focused on the restaurant. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not. I can tell you're upset.”
“I said it’s fine.”
When she finally forced herself to look at him, his expression was serious, eyes searching hers. His hand closed around hers again, thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go inside.”
She let him guide her to the door, but the heat in her chest didn’t fade. And she couldn’t stop hearing Sloane’s voice in her head, all honeyed sweetness over something sharp.
You look so young.
It’s sweet.
How cute.
The hostess led them to a small table near the window, the soft glow of string lights overhead doing nothing to ease the tight knot in Y/n’s chest. She wasn't jealous… Not of Sloane. Though the fact that she knew something about a niece who lived out of town while Y/n didn't, felt strange. It was the first time she'd felt so out of place next to Harry since they'd started dating.
Harry pulled out her chair for her, but she sat without meeting his eyes. When he took the seat across from her, she could feel him watching, even as she pretended to study the menu.
A beat passed. Then another. “Y/n,” he said quietly.
She kept her eyes on the drink list. “Hmm?”
“You sure you're okay?”
“I am.” She flipped a page, ignoring how her voice trembled just annoyingly. “I'm fine.”
His brow creased. “Something's got to you.”
She forced a small smile as she finally looked back up at him, though it felt thin on her face. “Can we not do this here?”
He watched her for another long moment before nodding once, settling back in his chair. “All right.”
She hated how relieved she felt when he didn’t push. She needed to get her thoughts in order anyway before they talked it out. But the reprieve only lasted until the server came to take their order.
Harry asked for a steak and a glass of red. She ordered pasta she knew she wouldn’t eat much of, her stomach already in knots. She was being silly. Or… maybe she wasn't.
When the server left, Harry folded his arms on the table, studying her. “You know she doesn’t matter. Right?”
Y/n traced the rim of her water glass with her fingertip.“I’m aware.”
His voice softened. “Then why are you acting like something bad just happened between us?”
She huffed a quiet, humorless laugh, eyes still fixed on her glass. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I just…” She stopped, shaking her head. “It’s stupid.”
“Try me.”
“It’s nothing, Harry. Can we please just not?”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He shifted back when the food arrived, thanked the server, and set into his meal without comment. He was frustrated, made obvious by the tension pouring from the set of his shoulders.
She pushed pasta around her plate, appetite long gone. Her mind kept replaying Sloane’s voice, the way she’d looked at her like she was some novelty that Harry had picked up along the way. A temporary distraction.
You look so young.
I didn't know you were into…
Why did Harry like her even? What did they really have in common? Was he one of those men who liked the younger ones? Easier to manipulate, someone with less experience who wouldn't give him too much lip? Y/n didn't feel like she was a pushover, but what if she'd gotten it wrong? Maybe he was just enjoying fucking a pretty young thing because he wasn't serious about their future.
When she finally glanced up, Harry was watching her steadily, his expression unreadable.
“You’re not eating,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, I am,” she said, stuffing a forkful into her mouth and chewing as she raised her brows.
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Y/n.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, softer this time, though she knew he didn’t believe it. She didn't believe it herself. But she didn't want to get into it at the restaurant in front of everyone. She'd come out looking like the dumb young girl who was overreacting.
They finished in tense silence, her fork barely touching the food again, other than a few mouthfuls to prove that she was eating something. The only sounds were the muted clink of silverware and the low hum of conversation from other tables.
When the check came, Y/n offered her card, but Harry waved her off and paid without comment. He stood and held her coat out for her, but she couldn’t quite meet his gaze as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.
Outside, the night felt colder than before. She kept her hands stuffed in her pockets instead of reaching for him. Harry didn’t say a word as they walked the short block to where he’d parked. He unlocked the car, stepped around to open her door, and waited while she slid in.
The moment he closed his own door and settled behind the wheel, she felt the hush of the car wrap around them. No music, no chatter from nearby tables, no reason left to keep pretending.
He didn’t start the engine. He just sat there, hands resting on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.
“Are you going to drive?” she asked, though her voice came out small.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he said calmly, turning to look at her.
She shifted against the seat, pressing her palms over her thighs. “I told you. It’s silly.”
“Are you jealous of her? Cause you shouldn't be.”
“Harry…”
He turned his body toward her. The low light from the dashboard cut across his face, tracing the lines of tension around his mouth.
“I’m not taking you home like this,” he said quietly. “If you don’t want to talk to me, fine. But I’m not going to pretend everything’s okay when it’s clearly not. You're upset about something.”
A knot tightened in her throat and she swallowed around it. “I'm not jealous, so you know. The issue is… It's… dumb.”
“Then humor me.”
She rubbed her thumb over the seam of her coat, trying to gather the mess of her thoughts into something she could say out loud. “It’s just… that woman.”
“Sloane.”
“Yeah.” She hesitated, eyes fixed on the dash. “I know it’s not about her, not really. But she—” Her voice caught, and she pressed her lips together.
“She what?”
“She looked at me like I was… like I was this stupid little girl you picked up for fun. At least that's how it made me feel.”
His brow furrowed. “That’s not what this is.”
“I know.” She forced herself to look at him. “I do know that. But it made me think… about the age thing.”
His expression didn’t change, but she felt the heat rush up her neck as she continued. “I mean… we’re at different places in our lives. You’ve got kids, an ex-wife… a whole history I’m never going to be part of. And me…” She let out a breath. “I’m just some… twenty-something who doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
The confession hung there, raw and unpolished. She could feel her pulse hammering behind her ribs. The more she spoke, the dumber she felt.
Harry drew in a slow breath, his gaze steady on hers. “Is that what you think I see when I look at you?”
She didn’t answer because she wasn’t sure.
He reached across the console and covered her hand with his. “Y/n. If I wanted something easy… someone who didn’t have opinions or who was just here to make me feel young, I wouldn’t have come looking for you." He pushed out a laugh. "You're smart, outspoken, feisty… and to me, you and I get along really well. I don't really think much about the age difference.”
Her eyes burned. She tried to blink the heat away, but it didn’t help. “Then what is this? Because I…” She swallowed. “I really like you. And maybe that’s stupid, but I do. And I don’t know what this is to you.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Long enough that her heart sank, sure she’d just made everything worse. Then he gave her hand the smallest squeeze.
“It’s not stupid. And it’s not nothing. You’re not nothing to me.”
She felt something crack in her chest, relief and fear tangling so tightly she couldn’t pull them apart. He seemed so sincere. It was in his eyes, in the way he seemed so sure of what he said. She let her eyes wander over the numbers on the clock on his dashboard briefly.
Harry’s voice softened. “Look at me.”
She shifted her gaze back up to his again
“I like you,” he said simply. “I like you more than I've liked anyone in a really long time. And it’s not about your age. It’s about you. Like, genuinely, Y/n. I like you.”
Her throat tightened, her voice a whisper. “I don't know what to think sometimes. Because I really like you. One of my friends even warned me not to get attached because chances were you'd regret this or decide you'd had your fun and be done. I want to prove that that's not true, but I don't know… After what Sloane said…”
His jaw flexed, and for the first time that night, something like anger flashed in his eyes. Not at her, but at the idea itself. “People like that don’t know shit about us. They'll see soon enough that we're solid.”
She blinked, a shaky laugh escaping before she could stop it. Her grin widened as his did.
His thumb brushed over the back of her hand again. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not to Sloane, not to your friends, not to me.”
“But I feel like I do.”
He nodded, as if he understood more than he was saying. “Then let's figure this out together. Yeah? Probably time to really sit down and talk about what this is.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was tentative. Careful. But it felt gentle and hopeful.
Finally, he released her hand and started the engine. “All right,” he said, his voice low as he started up his car. “Let’s go back to mine and we'll talk about all this.”
The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. She felt like her skin was still buzzing from the way he’d looked at her when he was talking, like she was something precious, not temporary. That was all she wanted, really. To be taken seriously.
When he pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine, neither of them moved for a second. He just looked at her, his big hand resting on the gearshift like he was still debating whether to say more but he didn't. He climbed out and came around to open her door (always the gentleman), and when she stepped out, he caught her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to his.
“You believe me?” he asked, voice low.
She swallowed. “I do.”
His mouth twitched. “Okay. Good. We've still got more to talk about.”
Inside, the house was dim and quiet. He flicked on the light over the kitchen and set his keys down. She hovered awkwardly by the counter, suddenly unsure what came next after her silly tantrum. Well, it wasn't really a tantrum, more like a moment of uncertainty and wavering confidence in what they were doing. What they were.
Harry turned to her, and for the first time all night, he looked uncertain too. Like he wasn’t sure if touching her would be the right thing. She hated that she'd made it weird.
“You want a drink?” he asked.
“No,” she said softly. “I just… I think I need you to tell me what this is.”
He stepped closer. “What do you want it to be?”
She hesitated, searching his face as she shook her head. “I'm starting to have real feelings for you, Harry. I need to know we're on the same page. I want it to be something real.”
“It already is.”
Her breath came out in a wisp, and she opened her mouth to argue… she didn’t know why, maybe just out of stubborn habit, but he shook his head and cupped her jaw gently in his hand to keep her focus on him.
“I’m serious,” he said. “This isn’t casual for me. It hasn’t been for a while. I've got real feelings for you too, Y/n.”
She blinked, her heart fluttering so fast it almost made her lightheaded. “So what are you saying?”
He exhaled a slow, steadying breath, like he was working up to something.
“I’m saying…” he said, pausing as he took her hand and jutted his head toward the living room. "Let's go sit down."
She followed him to the couch, and just when she thought they'd both sit, he pulled her with him, dragging her into his lap and shifting them both until they were sitting together, looking at one another. He put an arm around her, his other hand on the top of her thigh.
“I've been thinking about it a lot, and I want you to be my girlfriend. If you want that too. Feels right to me.”
For a second, she couldn’t find her voice. All she could do was stare at him, her pulse thumping wildly in her ears. She gripped the side of his sweater in her fist and when she finally managed a breath, it came out thin. “Yes. I want that.”
His hand slid to the back of her neck, and he kissed her before she could say anything else. It was different from the other times. Like he was sealing something between them. Like a handshake but far sweeter.
She slid her hands up to the front of his chest, and when he pulled back, she was smiling so wide it almost hurt.
“You look happy,” he said quietly, thumb brushing over her cheek.
“I am,” she whispered.
“Good. That's what I want to see.”
He kissed her again, slow and sultry, his tongue sliding against hers, and she felt her body soften against his as all the tension she’d been carrying seemed to melt away.
When he finally pulled back, he moved his lips up to kiss her forehead. “Come on,” he said. “Need to make sure you understand how serious I am."
He didn’t rush her. Just led her down the hall with one big reassuring hand at the small of her back. When they reached the bedroom, he turned on the lamp on the dresser to fill the space with warm, honey-colored light. Then he faced her, quiet, searching her eyes as if he was giving her one last chance to change her mind.
She didn’t. She wouldn't. Harry was the man of her dreams, and if he was serious about all this… if he really wanted them to take their relationship to the next step, she was all in.
She stepped close and pressed her palms to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under her hands. God, he was gorgeous and so nice. She didn't know why she ever had second thoughts about his intentions.
“You’re sure you want me as your girlfriend?” she whispered, a cheeky soft smile working its way up on her mouth. Despite her grin, her question was serious.
His lips curved, soft and reassuring. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
His hands came up to cup her face, and he kissed her again. Long, unhurried, like he had all night to convince her she was all he wanted. She felt her body melt into his, her breath catching as he slid his hands down her sides, thumbs brushing over her hips.
When he pulled back, he started working the buttons on her coat that she'd yet to remove. It was slow and methodical, like every layer he plucked at was something he’d been waiting to see. A pleasure to shed each layer with the utmost care.
“You’re beautiful,” he said in a whisper, sliding the coat from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “So fucking beautiful. And so smart. So good for me.”
Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, but he didn’t laugh or tease her, just helped her, undoing each one until she could push it over his broad shoulders. She smoothed her palms over the warm skin of his chest, feeling the way his breath caught when she touched him.
“You make me feel like…” She trailed off, a flush of embarrassment washing over her at the vulnerability of the moment.
“Like what?” he asked softly.
“Like maybe this is real.”
He bent to kiss her jaw, his voice low and rough. “It is real, baby.”
His fingers slipped under the hem of her top, before he pulled it over her head. She shivered nervously, and at the cool air as it touched her skin, but he was already smoothing his palms up her arms, steadying her.
He kissed her again, deeply, ravaging, and her knees went weak at the slow slide of his mouth against hers. When she whimpered, he groaned and pressed her back toward the bed.
“Lie down,” he murmured against her lips.
She sat and then lowered down, her breath coming in soft little gasps as he followed her onto the mattress, bracing himself over her on his forearms. His eyes roved over her face as his chest rose and fell heavy.
“So pretty,” he said.
She puffed out a bashful laugh.
He kissed her throat, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, taking his time, not hurrying to get her naked all at once. His big hand slid up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.
“I want you to know how serious I am about you. Want you to feel it,” he said against her skin.
“You already showed me,” she breathed.
“Not enough.”
He kissed his way down her belly, pausing at the waistband of her skirt, and looked up at her. She watched him move his hands up her thighs, pushing the material up over her hips, revealing her thin underwear. He pressed kisses to every inch of skin he uncovered.
When he settled between her thighs, she gasped, one hand flying to his hair.
“Harry—”
“Shh.” His voice was husky. “Just let me take care of you.”
His mouth found her through her panties, warm and unhurried, his tongue stroking over the damp fabric until she was trembling. He moaned into the soaked cloth and lifted to look up at her.
She clocked that cocky grin on his face as she hooked his thumbs under the elastic of her waistband. "Love getting you messy."
Biting her lip, she watched as he pulled her skirt off and then finally removed her thong, dragging it down her legs slowly. He took his time, kissing the soft skin of her inner thighs, breathing her in like he couldn’t get enough.
He started easy and slow, flicking his tongue over her clit in steady, teasing strokes. When she whimpered, he slipped two fingers inside her, curling them just right until her hips were lifting up off the mattress.
If there were things about Harry that she could brag on (there were many), one of them was that his cunnilingus game was on point. She'd never slept with anyone as good as him in general, but the way he could make her come with his mouth?
“Look at me,” he rasped.
She forced her eyes open, and the moment their gazes locked, the heat that had been building finally broke as he sucked her clit into his mouth and dragged his fingertips into that gooey, mushy spot inside of her that made her brain melt. She came with a soft, broken cry, her body shaking under his mouth.
He didn’t stop until she was squirming, fingers pumping, tongue swirling, and she was too sensitive to take any more. Only then did he kiss his way back up her body, his lips soft and warm against her skin.
She caught his face in her hands when he reached her, kissing him hard, tasting herself on his tongue. Her heart was pounding wildly from everything. Not just the orgasm, but also because of the talk they'd had. They were official. They were real. This was real.
“Need you,” she whispered. “Please.”
His breath shuddered out. “Yeah?
She nodded quickly and watched him as he shifted, removing his pants and then his underwear. He reached over to grab a condom from his nightstand. She sat up and helped him roll it on, her hands shaking with urgency to feel him inside of her.
He grinned at how excited she seemed to be. Yanking her thighs and pulling her against him, he leaned over her and kissed her slowly, only to feel her writhing under him impatiently.
He laughed. "What's the rush? I just made you come and you're already acting like you haven't even been touched?"
She rolled her eyes and lifted her hips. "You're my boyfriend now. Want to feel what it's like to have my boyfriend fucking me."
He moaned, hands dragging down her arms and then over her breasts before he pushed her thighs further apart. He tilted his gaze down between her legs, where his cock was hanging just over her. She felt him slide his thumbs down to her slick labia and then he pulled, opening up her hole to get a good view of where he was about to be buried.
"You drive a hard bargain, honey. You sure you're ready to feel it?" He grinned, eyes moving up over her body, scraping over the tops of her tits and up to her face.
She nodded. "Yes. Right there where your fingers are. Push your big cock in there, Harry."
Y/n was vibrating with need as he massaged just around her entrance, his fingers sliding around her pussylips slowly and pulling them apart again before he finally lined himself up with her.
With his thumb gliding over the pulsing hood of her clit he pressed his tip just past her tight muscle, and she inhaled sharply at the stretch (she always had to brace herself for that initial plunge). Harry cooed softly, halting his thrusts as he rubbed circles into her, watching her pretty bud shift under his thumb and the way her wet pussy was wrapped just around his tip.
When he was satisfied that she was ready for more, he shifted into her again, pressing more of his impressive girth deeper, spreading her open slowly.
"My girlfriend…" he said in a voice that couldn't even be considered a whisper. She almost didn't hear it. Y/n reached out to take his free hand, moving his grip from her thigh to thread their fingers together.
"Yes, your girlfriend."
With their eyes fixed, he buried in until his pelvis was pressed into her clit. Both of them reeling from the intimacy of it. And somehow, it felt different. It wasn't just sex. It was something bigger than just sex.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her free hand bracing his shoulder. He stayed still for a moment, just watching her face.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she breathed. “So good.”
He groaned and began to move, slow and deep, every thrust measured. It felt so good every time they fucked, but this time was even better. Her insides ached around his cock as he dragged in and out languidly. She felt like he was trying to prove something with every careful slide of his body against hers.
And maybe he was. Maybe he wanted her to understand just how much she meant to him. How committed he was to her and only her. He'd do anything it took to get her to see she wasn't just some phase, some easy girl he could control… It was never that with him.
He rocked into her, lowering his chest enough that she could feel the sweep of his chest hair over her nipples. His lips brushed over hers as he panted. "Y'my girl, Y/n… Gonna make sure you know I mean it."
She moaned, sliding her fingers up against the back of his neck to pull his mouth down against hers. He flexed his fingers against hers, their hands still grasped together as he fucked in deep.
The sound of his length gliding through her was wet and filthy, lined by their moans and the soft plapping of skin together. Her body wrapped around him, little muscles flexing over his cock as he stuffed into her, lips and tongues moving together… it was all bringing them both to their end rapidly.
He felt her tensing under him. Pushing in as deep as he could go, until her body was shuddering and she was gasping, he ground into her when she came. The pulsing of her walls on him had him sucking in a sharp breath and pressing his forehead to hers when her lips were no longer moving with his. Her soft gasps mingled with his low groans, and then it was his turn.
His movements were harsher, faster, as he fucked in. Sweat formed over his chest as he braced himself for his orgasm. He drove into her, hips pumping until finally he was coming, buried in tight and throbbing as he filled his condom.
"Fuck…"
After, he didn’t pull away. Just stayed close, kissing her cheeks and her mouth, his hand stroking her temple until her breathing slowed and she finally opened her eyes. He was smiling down at her. A soft expression, gentle, full of feeling and warmth
“Told you I was serious,” he said.
She smiled, her heart thudding. “I believe you.”
.
The morning sun spilled across the kitchen floor, catching on the steam curling up from her mug. Y/n tugged the hem of Harry’s soft old t-shirt lower over her bare thighs and shifted on her stool, trying not to grin like an idiot but failing miserably.
It was hard not to with him standing across the counter in just a pair of sweats, hair still messy from her fingers not long before.
He poured more coffee into her mug, even though she hadn’t finished the first. “What're you smiling about?” His grin gave away that he already knew.
She shrugged, wrapping her palms around the warm ceramic. “You.”
“Oh yeah? Like that I make you smile so big.” He reached over and tugged gently at the sleeve of her borrowed shirt. “This looks better on you.”
“Better than on you?” she teased.
He leaned over the counter, close enough that she could smell the faint clean musk of his skin. “Much better,” he said, voice low.
He sank over her skin. She was about to say something stupid, something mushy she’d definitely regret admitting out loud, when the doorbell rang.
Harry straightened, brows pulling together in confusion.
“Expecting someone?”
“No.” He glanced toward the hall, then back at her. “I'll find out who it is. Be right back.”
Her pulse ticked up as he walked to the front door. She couldn’t hear what was being said at first, just the low rumble of his voice. Then another voice, higher in pitch, a little sharp, feminine: “—and I just thought I’d drop by since you didn’t answer your phone.”
Y/n’s heart thumped harder. She knew without even seeing who it was. And god, she wasn't ready for this yet. She took another sip of her coffee, ears straining to listen as she moved from the stool and stepped toward the living room mindlessly.
Harry’s reply was quiet, but it didn’t hide the tension. “All right. Everything okay?”
“No. I wanted to talk about Riley. And about next weekend. But—”
The woman’s voice cut off, and Y/n realized too late that she’d stepped halfway into view, mug clutched to her chest like a shield.
Harry’s ex was tall, polished, her hair perfectly done, even this early. She turned her eyes on Y/n and took her in with one slow, measured glance.
“Oh.” Her mouth curved, though it wasn’t exactly a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”
Y/n swallowed, acutely aware she wasn’t wearing pants. “Hi,” she managed, her voice embarrassingly small.
Harry’s hand lifted, almost like he was going to reach toward her, but he stopped himself. “This is Y/n. Y/n, this is Colette… the kids' mom.”
“Y/n,” his ex repeated, lips pressing together. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Y/n echoed, trying to ignore the heat climbing her cheeks.
The silence stretched between the three of them, brittle and awkward. She was kicking herself for having stepped toward the living room. She should have just stayed put, but what was done was done, and now she was staring at the woman Harry had once been married to. The mother of his kids.
His ex shifted her gaze back to Harry. “Anyway,” she said briskly, “I wanted to go over Riley’s behavior. Her teacher has said she’s been acting out again, and I don’t want it escalating before next weekend when you get them.”
“Of course,” Harry said, his jaw flexing. “Let’s—”
His ex lifted a brow, flicking her eyes pointedly to Y/n. “Maybe we can talk privately?”
Y/n’s face went hot. “I’ll, um… just—” She gestured vaguely toward the hallway and retreated before she could finish the rest of her sentence.
In the bedroom, she set her mug down on the dresser. God, she felt stupid. She was an intruder in someone else’s life… someone with kids, an ex, responsibilities she couldn’t even begin to understand.
She perched on the edge of the bed, fingers knotting in the hem of the t-shirt, and tried to breathe, to calm herself a little. This was part of the deal; she'd have to get used to the occasional run-in with his ex. She just hadn't been prepared for it.
It felt like forever before the front door finally shut again and Harry's footsteps padded down the hallway. When he stepped into the bedroom, he didn’t look annoyed. He looked tired, but the second his eyes landed on her, something in his expression softened.
“Hey,” he murmured, crossing the room.
“Sorry,” she blurted, before she could stop herself. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Or interrupt. Or—”
“Stop.” He crouched in front of her, big hands bracketing her knees. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Her eyes darted to the door, then back to him. “She hates me.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “She doesn’t even know you.”
“She hates that I’m here,” she insisted, voice cracking as she looked down at the lack of clothing she had on. “That I’m… like this. Prancing around in your t-shirt while she's—”
His thumbs brushed slowly over her thighs. “She can think whatever she wants.”
“She’s the mother of your kids, Harry. I want to make a good impression. I think I just blew it.”
“You're overthinking it. And you’re my girlfriend.” His voice was steady. “You have every right to be here. She'll get used to seeing you around.”
She swallowed. “I just don’t want to make everything harder.”
His hands slid up to her hips, pulling her closer so he could press his forehead to her sternum. “You’re not. You’re not making anything harder. You make everything better, in fact. Don't stress about this, baby.”
She let her fingers drift into his hair, holding him there. “Okay. Promise?”
He tipped his head back, looking up at her. “I promise. I wouldn’t have asked you to be mine if I weren't ready for all of this.”
Her chest squeezed so tight she thought it might break her ribs. “Okay,” she whispered.
He kissed the underside of her jaw. “You’re staying,” he said simply. “I want you here. Next time, I promise I'll introduce you properly. Was just caught off guard by her showing up like that."
She nodded. "Yeah. Hopefully next time we get a heads up so I can get dressed and make myself look presentable."
He laughed. "You're perfectly presentable just like this."
"I'm not. But thank you." She grinned.
"You good? I don't want you getting in your head about this. There's nothing to worry about."
"I know. You're right. I'm good, Harry."
He smiled, that slow, easy grin she was already addicted to. “Good.”
. .
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✨ summary: where harry’s a soft TikTok streamer and y/n happens to find his stream.
📝 word count: 11K
⚠️ content warning: smut
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Y/N stumbled through the door a little after ten, dropping her keys in the catchall with a tired clatter. Her feet were killing her. Her back hurt. Her brain felt like it was still stuck at work, replaying petty customer complaints and the awkward half-laugh she’d given her manager when he made that borderline gross joke.
She didn’t even bother with dinner. Just kicked off her shoes, peeled off her jeans, and crawled under the throw blanket on the couch with her phone. This was her routine on nights like this: half an hour of mindless TikTok before she convinced herself to brush her teeth and go to bed.
Half an hour usually turned into an hour. Or two.
She scrolled past dancing girls, recipes she’d never make, a video essay about why romcoms were secretly feminist, a guy cutting soap. It was all noise.
Then, almost by accident, she landed on a live.
The caption just said: “insomnia brain rot. talk to me.”
Only twelve people were watching. She hovered there for a second. Was it weird to pop into something so small?
But then the guy on screen — who looked about her age, maybe a little older, with messy brown hair pulled back by a ridiculous pink clip — laughed at something in the chat. It was a quiet, raspy sort of laugh that made something in her chest warm up.
He was lounging sideways on a couch, one socked foot tucked under the other knee, wearing an old band tee that had definitely seen better days. His accent was British, soft and a bit lazy, words sliding together like he couldn’t be bothered to crisp them up.
“Alright, next question,” he was saying, scrolling through comments. “Worst cereal of all time. And if any of you say Frosted Flakes, we’re gonna have a problem. Those are elite, don’t start.”
Y/N snorted, surprising herself. God, she must be tired.
On impulse, she typed:
bran flakes. taste like depression.
She almost clicked away before he’d see it, suddenly embarrassed. But then his eyes darted down, and he read it out loud, smiling.
“‘Bran flakes taste like depression,’” he repeated, trying not to laugh. “Oh that’s brilliant. You’re right, actually. Like chewing on your last shred of hope.”
He squinted at the username. “Who’s that, then? That’s a new one, innit? Welcome, love.”
A weird flutter went through her stomach.
Love.
He probably called everyone that. Still.
“Alright then,” he went on, still smiling to himself as he scrolled, “let’s hear more hot takes. Is honey nut overrated? I think it might be.”
Y/N settled deeper under her blanket, phone a little closer to her face, feeling the tight coil in her chest start to loosen for the first time all day.
She hadn’t planned to watch for more than a minute. But then he started talking about his day — how he’d tried to bake banana bread and burned the bottom, how he thought his upstairs neighbor had a pet goat (it was just a big dog apparently), how he couldn’t sleep lately because his brain wouldn’t shut up.
He kept scratching at the corner of his jaw when he was nervous. Made these little faces when he was reading comments. And when he laughed, really laughed, it was like he forgot the camera was there.
There were only fourteen people in the chat now. It felt… cozy. Like stumbling into someone’s living room at 2 a.m.
She didn’t even realize how long she’d been there until her phone buzzed with a low battery warning.
Y/N smiled, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Maybe she’d stay a little longer.
Y/N didn’t really mean to become a regular. It just sort of happened.
Every couple nights she’d check if he was live, and more often than not, he was. Always in that same sagging couch, always with that dumb pink clip holding his hair back, sometimes in glasses that made him look unfairly soft.
She’d plop down on her own couch in pajamas with a mug of tea, and it was like hanging out in someone’s living room. Well, his living room. Which had absolutely tragic curtains and a plant he frequently apologized to for nearly killing.
The chat was tiny. Never more than twenty people. A few usernames she recognized now, all of them forming this loose, late-night club of insomniacs and weirdos.
He’d started calling her “BranFlakes” sometimes, because of that first comment. Or just “trouble,” with this grin that made her toes curl under the blanket.
One night, he was leaning back against a pillow, phone balanced on his chest, scrolling through comments.
“So what’s everyone been up to today? Anyone do something interesting? Anyone commit light arson? Emotional or otherwise?”
Y/N smirked, typed, Define interesting. I didn’t get fired for flipping off a customer, so that’s my personal win.
He laughed — that soft, lazy sound that never failed to warm her up. “BranFlakes is in rare form tonight. Didn’t get fired, that’s the bar, huh? Love that for you.”
What about you? she sent. Burn anything down? Confess your sins.
He squinted at the screen, did that little half-smile. “Uh, I absolutely did. Tried to fix a leaky tap in the kitchen. Made it worse. Nearly flooded the place. Landlord’s gonna love that email tomorrow.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling. You’re useless.
“Oh, properly useless,” he agreed solemnly. Then his eyes flicked to the comments again. “Alright, your turn. What actually happened today? You sound more bitey than usual.”
Her stomach twisted a little. She didn’t usually get personal in the chat. It was mostly dumb jokes, snark, flirting that didn’t mean anything.
But he was looking right into the camera, waiting. Like he actually cared.
She sighed, typed, Just had a shit day. Work was hell. People suck. That’s it. I’ll live.
His face softened. He bit his bottom lip, drummed his fingers on his chest like he was trying to think of what to say.
“M’sorry, trouble,” he said finally, voice low and sincere in a way that surprised her. “People dosuck. Proper tossers, most of ‘em. But you don’t, alright? Just thought I should point that out.”
Y/N blinked at the screen. Her throat felt tight in that annoying way that meant if she opened her mouth, she’d probably make an embarrassing noise.
Thanks, she sent. You’re less useless than usual.
That got a grin out of him. “Oi, I’ll take it. Practically a love letter from you.”
A few minutes later, he’d moved on to reading someone else’s comment, but then paused, squinting at the screen again. “Hey — BranFlakes, do us a favor, yeah? Go get some water. Or a biscuit. Or something. You look knackered.”
She made a face at her phone. You can’t SEE me.
“I can sense you, alright? Psychic link. Don’t question it.”
Y/N laughed out loud, shaking her head, but set her phone down and padded into the kitchen for a glass of water anyway. When she came back, he was grinning like he knew he’d won.
“Good girl,” he teased, voice dropping just enough to make her stomach do a little flip.
Shut up, she typed, cheeks hot.
“Don’t think I will.”
When he finally ended the live, she got a DM almost immediately.
h: get some sleep, trouble. tomorrow will be less shit. promise.
She stared at it for a second, smiling like an idiot, then sent back,
y/n: no promises but i’ll try. don’t flood the kitchen again.
He sent a photo back. Just him with his face half-buried in his pillow, hair a mess, eyes soft and sleepy.
h: s’night then.
Y/N bit her lip so hard it almost hurt.
God, she was so gone. Over a boy she’d never even seen outside this little square on her phone. Over someone who didn’t even know what she looked like.
But she couldn’t stop. Didn’t even want to try.
Y/N hadn’t planned on it going this far.
It was supposed to be harmless. A little escape from the drudge of work and the ache of coming home to an empty apartment. But somehow it became the best part of her day.
They texted constantly now. Not just memes or stupid TikToks — though there were plenty of those — but long rambly messages about everything and nothing. About how she hated olives, how his favorite weather was the five minutes right before it rained, how sometimes he wondered if he was wasting his life talking to a phone screen at 2 a.m.
One night he sent her a voice note. Just a sleepy, “Hope your day was better, trouble,” all warm and raspy and impossibly close.
She played it about fifteen times.
Eventually she started sending voice notes back, her voice small and shy at first. He’d tease her — “didn’t know you were so posh” or “god, your laugh’s unreal, you know that?” — and it made her feel stupidly giddy.
It also made her softer. Less snark, more honesty slipping through in little cracks.
One night she was curled up on the couch in an old hoodie, hair damp from a shower, phone pressed to her ear listening to him. He was rambling about the neighbor’s dog again.
“So it’s official — it’s not a goat. Just a dog with… goatish tendencies. Barks like it’s got a personal vendetta against me, though.”
She laughed, tucked her knees tighter to her chest. “Maybe it does. Maybe you give off suspicious energy.”
“Oh, I’m definitely suspicious. But c’mon, who doesn’t want to bark at me a little?”
She rolled her eyes, grinning. “Can’t argue with that.”
Then it got quiet. Not awkward — just easy, comfortable. She could hear him breathing, a little sigh as he shifted around wherever he was.
He spoke again, softer this time. “You sound tired. Long day?”
“Yeah,” she admitted. “Just work. Same old. I did have a customer yell at me because his sandwich was apparently ‘threatening.’ So that was new.”
Harry snorted. “Did it have a knife? Or just a bad attitude?”
“Bad attitude. Definitely. Lettuce was giving him a dirty look.”
“Cheeky lettuce.”
She let out a soft little huff, hugging her knees. “But it’s better now. Talking to you always makes it… less shit.”
There was a pause, then a quiet little, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her voice cracked around it, and she didn’t care.
“Same here, trouble. Don’t think you realize how much.”
They sat in that for a second, hearts thudding on either end of the line.
Then she blurted, “Do you wanna see me? Like actually see me? I mean, I could video call, or send a pic or something. You’ve never asked, but…”
His voice came back gentle, almost shy. “I’ve thought about it, loads of times. What you look like. If you’d be smiling when you text me, or rolling your eyes. But… I kinda like not knowing.”
“You like the mystery?” she teased, but it was so soft it was almost tender.
“Yeah, actually. Like… it makes me pay more attention to everything else. The way you say stuff. The weird shit you notice. Your laugh.”
Her heart felt too full, pressing up tight against her ribs. “You’re such a sap.”
“Oh, fully. Can’t even deny it.” He laughed under his breath, then went quiet again. “Don’t worry, though. When I finally see you, it’ll be worth the wait. Bet you’ll ruin me completely.”
Her breath caught.
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she just whispered, “Okay.”
He let out a little sigh, like it settled something in him. “G’night, love. Dream of suspicious sandwiches.”
“G’night, Harry.”
When she hung up, her face hurt from smiling. Her phone buzzed one last time.
h: and send me more voice notes tomorrow. m’addicted to your voice.
She squealed into her pillow like a teenager, then typed back with shaky hands.
y/n: only if you promise to keep telling me about your goat dog.
h: deal.
She fell asleep with her phone clutched to her chest, feeling like maybe — just maybe — she wasn’t so alone after all.
She was sprawled on her bed one evening, phone in hand, absently scrolling through photos of cats in funny hats, when Harry’s name popped up on her screen.
Incoming call.
Her stomach flipped. It always did, stupidly, like she was sixteen again. She answered with a half-smile already pulling at her mouth.
“Hey, trouble,” he drawled.
“Hey yourself. What’s up?”
He was rustling around on the other end. She could hear a cupboard door creak, then the distant sound of pouring water. Probably making one of his endless cups of tea.
“So… I’ve got a question. Might be a bit mad.”
“Coming from you, that’s not exactly shocking.”
He let out a soft laugh. “Fair. But listen — there’s this tiny con, kinda a meetup for streamers and random internet people. Not like a big Comic-Con thing. More awkward dudes in graphic tees and cheap coffee. It’s next month, just over in Georgia. I’ve got a little panel spot somehow, talking about building ‘authentic communities’ which is a joke ‘cause it’s me and, like, twenty people on TikTok.”
She grinned into her pillow. “I think your little community’s pretty damn authentic. Bunch of cereal snobs and insomniacs.”
“Exactly. My people.” He paused. She could practically hear him chewing his lip. “Anyway… was thinkin’ you could come? Meet me there? Only if you want. I know it’s a drive and all, but…”
Y/N’s heart was thudding so hard it felt like her chest might crack open.
“You want me to come to a convention?” she teased lightly, trying to keep her voice from squeaking.
“I want you to come see me,” he corrected, softer. “I wanna finally see you. And — alright, selfish — I wanna be the first to see your face. Not through a camera. Just… you, standing there, lookin’ all smug. Maybe roll your eyes at me in real life.”
Her throat was so tight it hurt. She rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “That’s… really sweet.”
“Don’t make it weird,” he groaned, but he was laughing, nervous.
“You’re the one making it weird! Asking me to drive to another state to meet a boy I met on TikTok. What if you’re secretly a swamp goblin?”
“Babe, I’ve told you I’m a swamp goblin. At least three times. Full disclosure, I get cranky if I don’t have snacks.”
She laughed, pressing her fist to her mouth. “It’s just— it’s kind of a big deal. I mean, what if you’re disappointed?”
Harry went quiet for a second, then his voice came through low and certain. “Won’t be. S’not possible.”
She felt tears prick at the backs of her eyes, completely out of nowhere. God, she was pathetic.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll come.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She could hear the grin in his voice when he let out a breathless little, “Fuck. Can’t wait.”
“So what exactly does one wear to a nerd convention?” she asked, forcing a playful lilt back into her voice.
“Dunno. Something cute. Or come in a full Chewbacca suit, I’ll still fancy you.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Hey.” His voice dropped. “Just bring yourself. Promise?”
She swallowed hard. “Promise.”
“Good girl,” he muttered, and it was so low and fond it made her toes curl.
Later that night, she lay awake staring at her ceiling fan, heart pounding, phone clutched to her chest. She was really going to do this. Really going to cross state lines to meet a boy with floppy hair and a voice that made her stomach flutter.
Harry sent one last text before she drifted off.
h: m’counting the days already. try not to crash your car. i’d like to kiss you eventually.
He wanted to kiss her. She buried her burning face in her pillow, grinning like an idiot.
y/n: not planning on dying before you buy me a shit con coffee.
h: romantic. sleep tight, trouble.
She did. Better than she had in weeks.
Y/N started packing three days before she even had to leave. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.
Her bed was a disaster — jeans, crop tops, cardigans, shoes she’d never realistically wear to a sweaty convention hall. Her cat sat in the middle of it all, judging her with bored yellow eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, holding up two shirts. “Which one says ‘I might like you enough to kiss you but also I’m not desperate’?”
The cat blinked slowly, unimpressed.
She flopped down next to it, groaning. Her phone buzzed, and immediately her pulse jumped. It was embarrassing how fast she grabbed it.
h: tell me ur packing. otherwise i’ll come kidnap you myself.
She snorted, thumbs flying.
y/n: packing. but it’s not going well. i have no idea what to wear.
h: wear clothes. preferably.
y/n: you’re SO helpful.
h: m’just sayin, you’d look good in literally anything.
y/n: how do you know that?? you’ve never even SEEN me.
h: gut feeling. also ur voice is fit, so the rest of you must be too.
She made a strangled little noise and buried her face in a sweater.
y/n: stop. i’m already freaking out.
h: why?
y/n: idk. what if it’s weird? or awkward? what if you don’t like me once i’m standing right in front of you?
There was a pause. Three dots blinking. Then his reply came through.
h: listen to me carefully. i already like you. annoyingly so. it’s not gonna change because i see ur cute face in person.
She just stared at it for a long time, her heart doing stupid acrobatics in her chest.
y/n: you’re sappy.
h: i am. you’re stuck with it.
She typed back, her throat tight.
y/n: fine. but if i show up and you bolt i’m keeping your plant.
h: rude. that plant is family.
y/n: he told me he hates you actually.
h: he’s a liar and he needs water.
She laughed out loud. God, how did he make her feel so light?
h: pack something comfy for after. like when i inevitably drag you out for greasy food and keep you up all night talking.
Her cheeks burned.
y/n: okay. i will.
h: good girl.
She nearly dropped her phone.
The rest of the night she kept pulling clothes off hangers, putting them back, debating if she needed to shave literally everything. Her stomach was in knots, but in the best, most electric way.
The next morning, she texted him a picture of her suitcase.
y/n: packed. mostly. leaving tomorrow morning.
h: look at you bein all responsible.
y/n: i’m terrified.
h: i’m not. m’just excited.
She bit her lip, smiling like a fool.
y/n: what if i’m not what you pictured?
h: then i’ll change the picture. easy.
She didn’t know how to reply to that, so she didn’t.
Later that night, curled up in bed with her phone on her chest, he sent her a voice note. His voice was low, tired, a little scratchy.
“Hey. You’re probably asleep already. Just wanted to say… drive safe, yeah? Don’t rush. I’ll be there whenever you get in. And… I can’t wait to see you, trouble. S’gonna be worth it. Promise.”
She listened to it three times before she could finally close her eyes.
Tomorrow, she’d get in her car and drive across state lines for a boy she’d never met, whose voice already felt like home.
Y/N pulled into the hotel parking lot with her heart hammering so hard it felt like it might crack a rib.
The drive had been three hours of jittery adrenaline and overthinking every possible scenario. What if he didn’t like her? What if she said something weird? What if he didn’t even show up?
The hotel was surprisingly nice — not some grimy chain, but modern, with big glass windows and a little fountain out front. She checked in, mumbling her name to the woman at the desk, clutching her phone like a lifeline.
The room was clean, a little cold, with an aggressively cheerful painting of sunflowers on the wall. She tossed her suitcase on the bed and sat on the edge, hands clasped together so tight her knuckles hurt.
Her phone buzzed.
h: just got here. room’s tiny. i look like a giant tryin to get dressed in this mirror.
She snorted, a breathy laugh escaping her. Her hands were still shaking when she typed back.
y/n: i’m here too. hiding in my room. trying not to hyperventilate.
h: don’t hyperventilate. m’too selfish, i really wanna see you alive and breathing.
y/n: same.
h: my panel’s in like 30. after, meet me at the hotel cafe? it’s right off the lobby.
y/n: okay. i’ll be there.
h: sweet girl.
Her stomach flipped. She threw her phone on the bed and covered her face with both hands.
“Jesus Christ, get it together,” she muttered.
She paced the tiny space, chugged half a bottle of water, fixed her hair for the tenth time, wiped her clammy palms on her jeans. Finally she decided to go watch his panel — maybe seeing him from a distance first would make it less terrifying.
The convention space was downstairs, tucked behind a couple big double doors. She slipped inside quietly, heart racing. It was a small room, maybe fifty chairs, half-full. Harry was already on stage, perched on a tall stool with a mic in one hand, a bottle of water in the other.
She stopped dead in the aisle.
God.
He was in a thin dark tee that clung to his shoulders, hair pulled back in that same dumb clip, a silver ring flashing on his thumb when he gestured. He was laughing at something the moderator said, head tipping back, eyes crinkling.
She just stood there like an idiot, hugging her arms to her chest, watching him talk about “building safe corners of the internet” and how people deserved spaces where they could be weird without judgment.
He had no idea she was there.
No idea that the girl who’d been teasing him about cereal and goat-dogs and sending him nervous little voice notes was right in front of him, trying not to melt into the carpet.
When it ended, there was polite applause. Harry thanked everyone, flashed that grin that made her knees weak, then stepped down and disappeared through a side door.
Y/N slipped out with the rest of the crowd, heart in her throat, and made her way to the hotel cafe. It was early afternoon, empty except for a barista behind the counter and a young guy in a hoodie reading something on his phone.
She picked a corner table by the window, set her bag on the seat beside her, and stared out at the fountain.
Her phone buzzed.
h: done. headed that way.
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands were clammy again. She wiped them on her jeans.
y/n: already here. trying not to pass out.
h: don’t. m’serious. i need you alive for at least ten more minutes.
She barked out a laugh that startled the barista.
Then another text came through.
h: also. you better still let me be the one to find you.
y/n: bossy.
h: i know. sit tight.
She curled up in her chair, arms wrapped around her middle, foot bouncing under the table. Every time the door opened, her heart lurched into her throat.
The guy across the cafe glanced up, gave her a polite nod. She tried to smile back, probably looked manic.
Her phone buzzed again.
h: where exactly are you?
y/n: corner table. window.
h: m’bout to ruin your life.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
When the door opened again, she knew. Couldn’t see him yet, but every nerve in her body lit up like it was hardwired to him.
Her heart was thundering. Actually thundering. She could feel it in her throat, her fingertips, her ears. Every nerve felt raw, hyperaware.
She kept fidgeting, smoothing her hands down her thighs, twisting the little ring on her middle finger. The young guy across the cafe gave her another awkward glance, probably wondering why she looked like she was about to jump out of her skin.
This is so stupid, she thought. It’s just Harry. You’ve talked to him every single day for months. He knows your favorite snack, your weird intrusive thoughts, the exact sound you make when you snort-laugh. This is Harry.
But it wasn’t just Harry. It was him. In real life. Not a voice on the phone or a little face on her screen, but flesh and blood and warm hands and — god — probably so much taller than she expected.
Her stomach did a wild flip.
The door to the cafe swung open again. She didn’t even have to look. It was like her entire body just knew.
She forced herself to lift her head anyway.
And there he was.
Standing in the doorway, scanning the room with wide, eager eyes. Hair perfectly imperfect with a curl placed perfectly across his forehead, wearing the dark tee from the panel, jeans ripped at the knee, arms full of tattoos, and phone clutched in one hand like he’d been texting her the entire walk over.
When his gaze landed on her, it was like the floor dropped out from under her.
His whole face transformed — eyes going wide, mouth parting, then breaking into the most ridiculous, glorious grin she’d ever seen.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, mostly to himself. Then louder, “There you are.”
She couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. Just sat there staring at him like a deer in headlights, heart doing cartwheels in her chest.
“Not gonna stand up and greet me, then?” he teased, voice warm and bright and so painfully Harryit made her eyes sting.
She let out a helpless little laugh, pushed her chair back, and stood. Her legs felt like jelly.
Harry crossed the tiny room in three long strides. He stopped right in front of her, close enough that she could see the little bump on his nose, the tiny freckle on his jaw. His eyes were so green.
“Hi,” she managed, voice embarrassingly breathless.
He stared at her like he was trying to memorize every single inch of her face. Then his mouth curved into this soft, disbelieving smile.
“Hi, trouble.”
She laughed again, a shaky sound that was more nerves than humor. “You’re real.”
“Yeah. S’lookin that way.” His voice dropped a little, rough at the edges. “Can I — ?”
She didn’t even wait for him to finish. Just nodded, too overwhelmed to trust her own mouth.
He let out this tiny relieved laugh, then cupped her face in both hands, warm palms bracketing her cheeks, thumbs brushing under her eyes.
“Oh, fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. Then he was leaning down, pressing his forehead to hers, breath shallow.
She couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop trembling. Her hands found his wrists, holding on tight.
“You’re taller than I thought,” she whispered, which made him huff out a laugh against her skin.
“You’re shorter than I thought. Tiny little menace.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
She did. Pushed up on her toes and kissed him, soft and a little clumsy at first.
Harry made this wrecked sound, one hand sliding into her hair, the other dropping to her waist to haul her closer. His mouth moved over hers like he’d been waiting forever, savoring it, chasing every tiny shift of her lips.
When they finally pulled back, breathless and grinning like idiots, he rested his forehead against hers again.
“Worth the wait,” he whispered.
“Yeah,” she said, voice catching. “Worth every damn second.”
They didn’t move for a second, still tangled up in each other’s breath, Harry’s hands cradling her jaw like he was afraid she might vanish if he let go.
Then he seemed to realize they were standing dead center in a mostly empty cafe, making out like horny teenagers. He let out a slightly embarrassed little laugh, dropped his hands from her face, but kept one warm palm resting on her hip like he couldn’t stand not to touch her.
“Alright,” he breathed, eyes still dancing all over her face. “Sit with me before I drag you back upstairs and absolutely traumatize the room next door.”
“Bold of you to assume I’m that easy,” she teased, trying to sound breezy even though her voice came out a bit wobbly.
“Oh, I’m counting on you being that easy,” he shot back, grin going crooked. Then he tugged gently at her waist. “C’mon, trouble.”
They settled back at her little corner table. Harry immediately scooted his chair so close their knees bumped, like he couldn’t help it. His leg pressed into hers under the table, warm and solid, grounding her in the best way.
“You’re staring,” she said after a minute, cheeks hot.
He didn’t even pretend to deny it. Just leaned back, smirked, eyes raking over her face. “Yeah. Been picturing this forever. Sort of unfair how much better it is in person.”
“Stop. You’re going to make me combust.”
“Mm, fine. For now.” He nudged her ankle with his foot. “Order something. We’ll do this proper, yeah? Coffee and awkward small talk before I tell you again how pretty you are.”
She let out a shaky laugh, flagging down the barista. Harry ordered something complicated and way too sweet. She ordered a simple latte because her hands were still trembling and she was terrified she’d spill anything else.
When the barista left, Harry leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands. “So. Be honest. Am I taller than you thought?”
“Only a little. I mean, I knew you had to be tall with that tragic camera angle you always use. Could never see half your face.”
“Oi, it’s artsy! Mysterious!”
“It’s lazy. You’re lazy.”
He grinned, eyes sparkling. “Maybe. But you still fell for me, so joke’s on you.”
She rolled her eyes, but under the table, she slid her foot along his calf. His eyes went molten.
“Y’know, when I first saw you across the room…” he started, then trailed off, swallowing hard. “Christ. My heart actually stopped. I thought, that’s her. That’s my girl.”
Her own heart lurched painfully, and she reached across the table without thinking, catching his hand. He squeezed back immediately, thumb stroking over her knuckles.
“And you,” she said softly, trying to steady her voice. “You’re somehow exactly what I pictured and also nothing like it. It’s weird.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I dunno. You’re just… more. Louder. Warmer. More real.”
His smile went soft, almost shy. “M’glad. Was worried maybe you’d take one look and run for the hills.”
“You’re an idiot if you think that.”
He squeezed her hand again, brought it up to press a warm kiss against her knuckles. “Well. Lucky for me, you seem to like idiots.”
She laughed, but it cracked into something breathless.
Their drinks came, and they pretended to care about them, but neither let go of the other’s hand for more than a second.
“You’re still staring,” she whispered at one point, cheeks aching from smiling.
“Yeah. Not plannin’ to stop anytime soon, either.”
“Good.”
Harry’s knee bounced against hers, eyes flicking down to her mouth before dragging back up. “After this, wanna go somewhere quieter? Walk around outside maybe? Or— I dunno. I’m not ready to let you go back to your room yet. Might actually die.”
She squeezed his fingers, heart tripping all over itself. “Yeah. I’d like that. Really.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said again, laughing through it. “God, you’re such a sap.”
“Hopeless. Absolutely ruined by you.”
They stayed like that a while longer, hands twined on the table, feet tangled under it, Harry stealing these small, soft looks at her that made her want to crawl into his lap and never move.
It was like all the months of voice notes and texts and teasing had collapsed into this tiny sunlit moment, just the two of them, finally real.
They finished their coffee in slow, distracted sips, talking about absolutely nothing and everything, fingers tangled so tight it was like neither of them trusted the moment enough to let go.
When Harry finally stood, he didn’t even wait for her to gather her bag properly. Just laced their hands together and tugged her up with this boyish, impatient grin.
“C’mon. If we stay here any longer, I’m gonna climb over the table and get us both banned from the hotel.”
She snorted, cheeks going hot. “That’s one way to start off our weekend.”
“Mm, not quite the meet-cute I had in mind, but tempting,” he teased, pushing open the glass door and guiding her into the lobby.
They stepped outside into the afternoon sun. It was warm and bright, the fountain burbling nearby. Harry didn’t let go of her hand once, thumb brushing lazy little circles over her knuckles like he couldn’t help it.
“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” she said after a minute, heart still tap dancing against her ribs.
“What does?”
“This. Being… together. In real life.”
Harry smiled, soft and a little crooked. “Yeah. But good weird. Like I’ve been walking around waiting for something to happen, and it’s just… this. You. Finally here.”
She ducked her head, biting back a grin. “Stop. You’re gonna make me cry and I just put mascara on.”
He laughed, then pulled her gently toward the little path that circled the hotel grounds. It was quiet, dotted with benches and tiny blooming shrubs, just enough to feel like they had a bit of privacy.
“So,” she said, bumping her shoulder into his. “What was your first thought when you actually saw me sitting there?”
“That’s trouble,” he answered instantly, then shot her a playful look. “But also… fuck me, she’s pretty. Too pretty. Like I was gonna have a heart attack before I even got over there.”
She covered her face with her free hand, groaning. “God, why are you so good at this? You’re supposed to be awkward and weird and make me feel better about my life choices.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m plenty awkward,” Harry said with a grin. “I just hide it well. I’m currently terrified you’re gonna realize you’ve made a tragic mistake and run off with the barista instead.”
“Not likely,” she shot back, but her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “You’re stuck with me, sorry.”
“Good. I like being stuck with you.”
They walked a little further, hands still twined, arms bumping. Harry kept sneaking these little glances at her like he couldn’t help it — eyes darting to her mouth, her hair, her shoulders.
At one point, he stopped dead, tugged her gently so she stumbled into him.
“What?” she laughed, palms flattening against his chest. God, he was warm. Solid.
Harry just stared down at her for a long second, jaw working. Then he let out a low, helpless sort of noise, dropped their joined hands so he could cup her face again.
“Sorry,” he breathed. “Can’t — I just—”
Then he was kissing her.
It was different than in the cafe — slower, deeper, almost reverent. Like he was trying to memorize exactly how she tasted, the way she sighed into his mouth, how her hands fisted in his shirt to drag him impossibly closer.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping a little, he rested his forehead on hers and let out a soft laugh.
“You’re gonna wreck me, trouble. Completely ruin me for anyone else.”
Her heart squeezed so tight it hurt. She slid her hands up to his jaw, thumb tracing the edge of his smile.
“Good,” she whispered. “That’s the plan.”
Harry laughed again, kissed her once more — quick and sweet — then grabbed her hand and started walking backwards, pulling her along.
“C’mon. Wanna show you the pathetic little vendor hall. Gotta prove I’m a real internet loser.”
“You already proved that months ago,” she teased, bumping into him.
“Oi. Rude.”
“True, though.”
He laughed, pulled her closer by the hand. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking. I’ll find more creative ways to shut you up later.”
Her stomach flipped deliciously.
They wandered off together like that, hands tangled, hearts a tangled mess of nerves and giddy relief, already half in love with this new reality where he was real and right there, close enough to touch.
They spent the next hour wandering through the vendor hall, which was exactly as tragic and adorable as Harry had promised.
Tiny tables crammed with stickers, enamel pins, homemade candles, nerdy T-shirts and art prints. A tired looking DJ was spinning some synthy pop in the corner, while groups of awkward twenty-somethings milled around with plastic badge holders swinging from their necks.
Harry didn’t let go of her hand once. Every time she reached for something on a table, he was right there, shoulder brushing hers, thumb stroking lazily over her knuckles.
At one booth, he picked up a truly awful little plushie — a lopsided frog wearing a tiny felt wizard hat.
“Oh my god,” she laughed. “That’s hideous.”
“That’s exactly why I want it.” He flipped the tag over, winced at the price, then smirked at her. “Actually… I think you need it.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Too late.” He handed it to the vendor, pulled out his wallet, then shoved the hideous thing at her with a proud grin.
“Harry.” She tried to scowl but couldn’t stop smiling.
“S’for when I inevitably piss you off. You can punch his little face instead of mine.”
“You’re such a goof.”
He leaned in, brushed a quick kiss over her temple. “Yeah. Your goof, though.”
They drifted through a few more tables, Harry buying them both a cheap iced tea that tasted vaguely like metal, stopping every few feet to look at something he’d insist was “cool” even though it very much was not.
Eventually the crowd started thinning out, people heading back to their rooms or out to the parking lot. The music faded. Someone was rolling up a giant poster banner in the corner.
Harry glanced around, then at her, his thumb still brushing that same soothing line across the back of her hand.
“S’getting late, huh?”
“Yeah,” she breathed. Her heart was starting that stupid frantic beat again, the one that made it hard to get a full breath.
He gave her hand a little squeeze. “I’ll walk you up. Make sure no stray goat-dogs get you.”
She laughed, nudged his shoulder. “So thoughtful.”
They rode the elevator up in a comfortable, slightly charged silence, shoulders brushing, Harry’s free hand in his pocket. At her door, he rocked back on his heels, still holding her hand.
“Well…”
“Well,” she echoed. God, she was suddenly so nervous. Her heart felt like it was rattling against her ribs.
He lifted their joined hands, pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, then her wrist, then lower, to the inside of her palm.
“Night, trouble.”
She stood there frozen for half a second, then blurted out, “Wait.”
Harry stopped immediately, brows lifting. “Yeah?”
She bit her lip, heat crawling up her neck, then tried to laugh it off. “Do you… um. Do you maybe wanna come in? To my room? Just — I dunno. I’m not really ready for tonight to be over yet.”
His eyes went so soft she thought she might melt right there. Then he let out a quiet, slightly relieved laugh, thumb brushing her cheek.
“Fuck. I was gonna ask if you’d come back to mine, but didn’t wanna be that bloke, y’know? Didn’t want you to think I was just—”
She cut him off with a smile. “Harry. It’s me. You’re allowed to want to keep hanging out.”
His grin turned a little crooked. “Good. ‘Cause I really fuckin’ do.”
She fumbled her key card, nearly dropped it twice because her hands were shaking, and Harry just laughed quietly, resting a hand on the small of her back.
When the door finally swung open, he followed her inside, shutting it behind them with a soft click.
His hands found her waist almost immediately, pulling her close until their noses brushed.
“Hi again,” he murmured, voice low and a little breathless.
She laughed, slid her hands up his chest. “Hi.”
“Still can’t believe you’re real,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.
“You keep saying that,” she teased, voice wobbly.
He just kissed her, slow and deep, like he was determined to prove it over and over.
They stood there for a minute by the door, still half tangled up in each other, her hands pressed flat to his chest, his breath warm on her lips.
Harry’s thumbs stroked soft little circles at her waist, his forehead resting against hers. When he pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, mouth curved in a lazy, wrecked sort of smile.
“Y’know,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “I was trying really hard to be a gentleman.”
She bit her lip, heart stuttering. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He ducked his head, mouth brushing her jaw, then lower, nuzzling just under her ear. “Was gonna come up here, tuck you into bed all polite-like, go back to my room and die quietly.”
She let out a breathless little laugh, tilting her head to give him more room. “That sounds tragic.”
“It would’ve been,” he agreed, his mouth hot against her throat. “But now I’m here, and you’re letting me do this, and I’m absolutely fucked.”
That pulled a small, shaky sound from her chest.
She pulled back, just enough to see his face, and slid her hands up around his neck. Her thumbs brushed over the little curls at his nape, soft and sweaty from the day.
“Good,” she whispered. “I want you a little fucked up over me.”
His laugh was low, breathless, hands tightening at her hips. “That’s evil.”
She leaned up on her toes, kissed him.
It was meant to be quick. Just a soft press of her mouth to his. But the second she did it, Harry let out this quiet, desperate noise, his hands slipping lower, fingers digging into her hips to drag her closer.
The kiss went messy fast — all teeth and soft gasps, her hands sliding up into his hair, tugging at the little pink clip until it fell to the floor with a soft clatter. His hair spilled out around her fingers, wild and sweaty, and she fisted it tight, tugging just to feel him shudder.
“Christ,” he breathed against her mouth, voice cracking. “Keep doin’ that and I’m gonna lose it.”
“Yeah?” she whispered, lips ghosting over his jaw. “What if that’s what I want?”
Harry groaned, backed her up until her knees hit the bed. They tumbled onto it together, her on her back with Harry half on top of her, weight pressing her into the mattress in the best possible way.
His mouth was everywhere — her jaw, her neck, the little sensitive spot just under her ear that made her gasp.
“You’re dangerous,” he muttered, breath hot against her skin. “Look at you, all sweet and soft, lettin’ me in your room, and now you’re gonna ruin me.”
She laughed, breathless, hips arching up into his. “Maybe that’s the plan.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes dark and a little wild, hair a mess around his face.
“Yeah?” he rasped. “Want me to lose my fuckin’ mind over you?”
She nodded, swallowed hard, then slid her hands under the hem of his shirt, pushing it up. His skin was hot under her palms, muscles jumping under her touch.
“Take it off,” she whispered.
Harry let out a rough little laugh, sat up just enough to yank the shirt over his head. He tossed it somewhere behind him, then dropped back down, hands bracing on either side of her head.
“Happy?” he teased, but his voice was wrecked.
“Yeah,” she breathed, hands splaying over his warm, bare shoulders. “Now kiss me again.”
He did. Hard.
And when she shifted under him, legs parting to let him settle between, Harry let out the filthiest little groan against her mouth, hips pressing down into hers like he couldn’t help it.
“Fuck,” he gasped, pulling back just enough to look at her, eyes dark and blown. “Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah? Please. I need you to tell me.”
She smiled up at him, heart a wild, happy mess, and slid her hands back into his hair.
“I’ll tell you,” she promised, voice low. “But right now I want everything.”
Harry just stared at her for a second, like she’d just said the most perfect thing in the world. Then he dipped his head, kissed her again, and everything else fell away.
Harry kissed her like he’d been waiting a lifetime — deep and hot and almost clumsy with how badly he wanted it. His hands roamed everywhere, up under her shirt, over her sides, gripping her hips so tight it was like he thought she might slip away.
But then she did something that had his breath stalling out completely. She pushed at his shoulder, gentle at first, then more insistent.
“Lay back,” she whispered.
His eyes flew open, dark and wide. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she breathed, biting her lip, sliding her hands down his chest. “Want you under me.”
Harry let out this absolutely wrecked little laugh, voice cracking as he flopped back onto the pillows. “Jesus Christ. Gonna be the death of me, trouble.”
She swung a leg over him, settling her knees on either side of his hips. The second her weight sank down, Harry’s head tipped back, a groan ripping out of him. His hands immediately found her thighs, squeezing, thumbs stroking up to the crease of her hips.
“Fuck,” he muttered, breath shallow. “Look at you. You’re gonna make me embarrass myself.”
She leaned over him, bracing her hands on either side of his head, her hair slipping down to brush his cheeks. “That’s the point.”
“Oh, you’re evil,” he breathed, voice breaking on a laugh.
Then she started to move. Just a slow, testing roll of her hips, grinding down into him. The sound that tore out of Harry’s throat was obscene, his fingers digging into her thighs like he might bruise them.
“Trouble—” he gasped. “Fuck, don’t stop, please—”
She kept moving, finding a rhythm that had her own breath coming short and hot. The friction was maddening, sending little sparks dancing up her spine.
Then she dipped lower, mouth brushing his ear.
“You’re so easy for me,” she whispered, biting down gently on his earlobe.
Harry actually whimpered. His hips jerked up into hers, hands sliding to her ass to press her down harder.
“Oh my god,” he choked, breath hot and ragged. “Say that again.”
She just smiled, breathless, and pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Her teeth scraped lightly at the tender skin there, then bit down just enough to make him gasp.
“Mine,” she whispered against his throat. “You’re mine, Harry.”
“Fuck, fuck—” His hands were everywhere now, greedy and frantic, sliding under her shirt, over her back, trying to pull her even closer. His neck arched under her mouth, giving her more room, a helpless offering.
“Say it,” she breathed, nipping lower.
“Yours,” he groaned. “All yours, fuck, been yours since the first voice note you sent me, I’m done—”
She rocked her hips again, harder, and he nearly bucked off the bed. His hands clenched on her hips so tight she’d probably have marks.
“You’re so pretty like this,” she whispered against his throat, sucking another mark into his skin. “So desperate for me.”
Harry’s eyes squeezed shut, a wrecked little smile breaking across his face. “You have no fuckin’ clue, trouble. Absolutely no clue.”
She laughed, soft and breathless, then captured his mouth in another hungry kiss, her hips still moving, chasing that perfect, maddening friction.
And Harry just let her — let her take everything she wanted, moaning into her mouth, hands trembling where they gripped her.
Harry’s hands were shaking where they gripped her hips, thumbs digging into her skin like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. She kept rolling her hips over him, slow and teasing, her mouth pressed to his neck, feeling every helpless groan vibrate under her lips.
Then suddenly his hands tightened, and he growled out a breathless, “Alright, that’s enough.”
Before she could even process it, he was flipping them over, pressing her into the mattress with a low, wrecked laugh.
“Hey!” she squealed, giggling breathlessly, hands flying up to his shoulders.
Harry just smirked down at her, hair falling around his face, eyes dark and hungry but lit with that same playful glint that had made her fall for him from the start.
“What happened to being my good boy?” she teased, trying to sound cocky even though her voice was wobbly.
Harry leaned down, his mouth brushing hers, voice dropping to this low, sinful rumble that made her toes curl.
“Still your good boy,” he breathed, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then right below her ear so she shivered. “But turns out your good boy’s fucking starving.”
Her breath hitched. “Oh.”
“Oh,” he echoed mockingly, biting her earlobe just enough to make her gasp. “What, didn’t think I was gonna let you have all the fun, did you?”
Then his mouth was at her throat, kissing and nipping down the column of her neck, hands sliding under her shirt. He pushed it up, impatient, until she lifted her arms so he could yank it over her head.
“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, leaning back just long enough to drink her in. His eyes were so dark it made her stomach swoop. “Been dreaming about this for months, trouble. Ruined me before I even had the chance to touch you.”
“Yeah?” she whispered, arching a little under him, needing more of him everywhere.
“Oh, yeah.” His hands slid down her sides, hooking into the waistband of her shorts. “Now be a good girl and lift your hips for me.”
She did, breath catching as he peeled them down slow, his eyes locked on hers the whole time. When he got them past her thighs, he dropped a soft kiss to the inside of her knee that made her whimper.
Harry just smirked. “What, already needy for me? Haven’t even started yet.”
“Harry—”
But he cut her off with a slow, filthy kiss just below her belly button, then another lower, each press of his mouth sending heat pooling low in her stomach.
When he finally settled between her thighs, hands spreading them wider, she thought she might actually die.
Harry looked up at her, eyes heavy, mouth curved in that wicked, lazy grin.
“Gonna make you forget your own name,” he murmured, voice so rough it was almost a growl. “Then remind you it’s mine you’ll be screaming.”
Then he lowered his head, and everything went molten.
Harry’s breath was hot against her inner thigh, and the second his mouth finally landed on her, she made a sound she didn’t even recognize — high and broken, her back arching clean off the bed.
“Fuck, there she is,” Harry groaned, voice dark and awed, like he’d just discovered treasure. He licked a slow stripe up her slit that had her thighs trying to snap closed around his head, but his hands were there, big and strong, spreading her right back open. “Nah. Don’t you dare hide from me now.”
“Harry—”
“Mm?” He pressed a filthy open-mouthed kiss right over her clit, then sucked, gentle at first, then harder when she whimpered. “What’s that, trouble? Can’t hear you.”
“Fucking— you’re such an— oh my god—”
He laughed against her, the vibration shooting through her entire body. “That’s it. Talk to me. Want to hear every desperate little noise you’ve been keeping from me.”
Then he went right back to it — slow at first, dragging his tongue in lazy circles that had her hips chasing after him, then faster, teasing patterns that made her whine. He sucked her clit into his mouth and let it pop free, then did it again, until she was clutching at the sheets like a lifeline.
“Please,” she gasped, voice wrecked. “Harry, please—”
“Please what?” he growled, pulling back just enough to look at her. His mouth was wet, his jaw shining with her slick, and he looked absolutely feral. “Gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart. I’m a bit slow on the uptake.”
She made a desperate little noise, hands flying down to his hair, gripping tight. “Please, just — don’t stop. Need your mouth, please.”
“Oh, fuck me, that’s pretty.” He dove right back in, groaning low when she tugged hard at his hair. His tongue worked her in deep, filthy strokes, then moved up to suck at her clit again, flicking just the tip of it until her thighs started to tremble.
Her hips stuttered against his mouth, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. “Harry— I’m gonna— oh my god—”
“Yeah?” He didn’t stop for even a second, words muffled against her. “Give it to me then, trouble. Come on my fuckin’ mouth.”
She broke with a soft sob, everything going tight and bright and shattering. Her hips rolled helplessly, grinding against his tongue, and Harry just moaned, holding her down, lapping her through it like he was starved.
When she finally slumped back against the mattress, shaking and spent, he pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, a lazy, wicked smile tugging at his lips.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he rasped, crawling up over her until they were nose to nose. “You’re a mess. Pretty little thing, all ruined for me.”
She let out a breathless, delirious laugh. “You’re the worst. The actual worst.”
He grinned, leaned in to press a slow, dirty kiss to her mouth — letting her taste exactly what he’d just done.
“Yeah,” he whispered against her lips. “But you love it.”
Her answering moan was all the proof he needed.
Harry pulled back just far enough to look at her, eyes heavy and dark, breath coming in short, ragged bursts. His hands were everywhere — smoothing down her sides, gripping her thighs, then sliding up to cradle her face like he needed to hold her steady for what he was about to say.
“Need you,” he rasped, voice all gravel and desperation. “Need to be inside you right fuckin’ now or I’m gonna lose it.”
Her stomach swooped, heat pooling deep and low. She couldn’t help the soft, eager sound that broke from her chest. “Then do it. Please.”
Harry groaned, crashing his mouth back to hers in a rough, breathless kiss that had her head spinning. His hands moved between them, fumbling with his jeans. When he finally shoved them down along with his briefs, he sighed like it physically hurt to be kept from her even that long.
“Look at you,” he breathed, sliding a hand down to guide himself, dragging the head of his cock through her slick folds until they were both trembling. “All wet for me already. Fuckin’ hell, trouble.”
“Harry—” Her voice cracked on his name, needy and wrecked, and that seemed to break the last of his control.
He pressed in slow, pushing inside inch by inch. Her mouth dropped open on a strangled little gasp, hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders. Harry let out a deep, shuddering groan, forehead dropping to hers.
“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, hips stuttering forward. “You’re so fuckin’ tight — like you were made for me, swear to god.”
She could barely breathe, legs wrapping around his hips instinctively, trying to pull him even deeper. “Harry, please— move—”
“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you,” he murmured, voice low and rough, brushing his nose against hers. Then he pulled out nearly all the way and slammed back in, hard enough to knock the air from her lungs.
Her moan was sharp, desperate, nails digging into his back. Harry grinned, breathless and cocky. “There she is. C’mon, let me hear you.”
Then he set a rhythm — slow at first, rolling his hips into hers like he wanted to savor every second, then faster, rougher, every thrust sending a shockwave of pleasure through her that had her clinging to him helplessly.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he panted against her mouth. “Can’t believe I’ve been waiting months for this. Months— thinkin’ about you, your voice, your laugh— didn’t even know what you looked like and I was already gone.”
“Harry,” she gasped, her body twisting under his, chasing each thrust. “Fuck— don’t stop—”
“Not stoppin’. Never fuckin’ stopping,” he growled. His hands slid under her ass, lifting her just enough so he could angle deeper. When he thrust again, she cried out, head tipping back, eyes squeezing shut.
“That’s it,” he rasped, fucking into her harder now, their bodies slamming together with slick, obscene sounds. “Good girl. Take it for me.”
“Feels so— god, you feel so good—”
“Yeah? This what you wanted?” His mouth found her neck, biting down just enough to make her keen. “Wanted me to ruin you, yeah?”
“Yes— yes, please, Harry, I’m so close—”
“Fuck, I can feel you,” he groaned, hips snapping faster. “Come for me, trouble. Wanna feel you squeeze me.”
It only took a few more thrusts before she broke, coming with a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders. Her whole body tensed, then went loose and trembling under him. Harry let out a wrecked moan, burying his face in her neck as he followed her over the edge, hips jerking erratically until he spilled inside her.
They stayed tangled up like that, gasping into each other’s skin, his weight heavy and perfect on top of her. His hand stroked her hair, thumb brushing her cheek, grounding them both.
When he finally pulled back to look at her, his grin was lazy and stupidly soft.
“Fuck,” he breathed, voice rough. “Knew you’d wreck me.”
She laughed, weak and breathless, pulling him down into a messy kiss.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because you absolutely ruined me too.”
Harry stayed right there, heavy and warm on top of her, breathing hard against her neck. It should have felt smothering, but it didn’t. It felt perfect — grounding and real, his heartbeat still thundering under her palm where she pressed it flat to his chest.
After a minute, he lifted his head, eyes soft and dazed. His hair was a total disaster, curls sticking up in every direction, still damp at the roots. She reached up and brushed a stray lock off his forehead, and he gave her this small, sappy smile that made her stomach flip all over again.
“You okay?” he asked, voice rough, thumb stroking under her jaw.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Better than okay.”
He leaned in and kissed her — slow, gentle, nothing like how frantic he’d been a few minutes ago. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers and let out a quiet laugh.
“What?” she breathed.
“Just…” His grin went a little crooked. “Dunno how I’m supposed to go back to my sad little flat after this. S’not fair.”
“You’ll survive,” she teased, even though her chest squeezed painfully at the thought of him leaving.
“Doubt it. Gonna be pathetic without you there to torment me.”
She laughed, pushing at his shoulder. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Oh, absolutely.” He pulled out slowly, careful and sweet, then dropped another soft kiss on her mouth before rolling off to the side. He flopped down next to her, arm immediately hooking around her waist to tug her into his side.
They lay like that for a minute, catching their breath. Then Harry huffed out another soft laugh.
“What now?” she groaned, nuzzling her face into his shoulder.
“Just thinking how smug you’re gonna be about this. Won’t be able to get your head through a door after tonight.”
“Oh, please. I’m the smug one?” She lifted her head to look at him, arching a brow. “Pretty sure you were the one talking about how you were gonna make me forget my name.”
Harry grinned, completely unrepentant. “Didn’t I, though?”
She smacked his chest lightly. “You’re insufferable.”
“Yeah, but you like it.” He pulled her tighter, kissing her hair.
They lay there in a comfortable tangle of limbs, skin still sticky, hearts finally slowing down. Harry’s hand traced lazy patterns up and down her back, then settled low on her waist, thumb brushing soothing circles.
“Can I stay the night?” he murmured after a while, voice small in a way that made her heart squeeze.
“Of course you can,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. “I was hoping you would.”
“Good,” he breathed, then shifted to press her closer. “Need you here. S’like my body’s already addicted.”
She laughed, warm all over. “You’re a sap.”
“You’re gonna keep saying that, but I’m not embarrassed.” He nuzzled her nose with his, eyes crinkling. “Best fuckin’ decision I ever made, driving down here. Even if you did ruin me.”
“You like being ruined.”
“Oh, fully. Hopeless for it.”
She kissed him again, sweet and lingering, then tucked her head under his chin.
“Harry?”
“Yeah, trouble?”
“Don’t let this be a one weekend thing.”
His arms tightened around her. “Not a chance in hell.”
Two years later, and Y/N still couldn’t quite believe how her life had turned out.
It was ridiculous, really — all because she’d been bored and lonely one night, scrolling TikTok with her brain half-melted from work, and stumbled across a scruffy British boy in a pink hair clip rambling about cereal.
Now that same boy was asleep on her couch most nights, leaving half-empty tea mugs everywhere, hogging the blankets, stealing kisses in the kitchen while she was trying to cook.
Harry had moved to her city after six months of painfully sweet long weekends and gut-wrenching goodbyes at airports. “Not doin’ this anymore,” he’d grumbled against her mouth one night, hands cupping her face like she was something breakable. “Want to wake up next to you every bloody day.”
So he did.
They settled into something warm and chaotic — nights in with cheap wine and takeout, quiet mornings tangled up in bed, little trips to bookstores where he’d follow her around with a lazy arm hooked around her waist.
And somehow two years flew by.
They were on a weekend trip up north, renting a tiny cabin that looked out over a stretch of mossy woods. It was chilly, the sky low and gray, everything damp with the smell of pine and earth. Y/N was bundled in one of Harry’s sweaters, hands shoved in her pockets, while he fussed around trying to start a little bonfire.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” she teased, arching a brow.
Harry shot her a look over his shoulder, cheeks flushed pink from the cold. “Absolutely not. But you love me anyway, so it’s fine.”
“That’s debatable.”
He laughed, then finally got the flame going, settling back on his heels with a smug grin. “Ha. Ye of little faith.”
She rolled her eyes, sinking down onto the threadbare blanket he’d spread on the ground. The fire crackled softly, little bursts of orange against the dreary afternoon.
Harry dropped down next to her, pulling her immediately between his legs so her back pressed to his chest. His chin hooked over her shoulder, arms warm and heavy around her middle.
They sat like that for a while, quiet, just listening to the fire and the distant birds.
Then she felt him shift, heart thundering against her back in this weird, frantic rhythm.
“Alright, trouble,” he murmured, voice suddenly rough. “Got a question for you.”
She twisted a little to look at him. “Yeah? Why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”
“Because I might,” he breathed, and when he pulled back she realized his hands were shaking.
Then he was fumbling in his pocket, pulling out this small, velvet box.
Y/N’s breath completely stopped.
“Harry—”
“Hang on, let me do it before I black out, yeah?” he rasped, popping the box open. Inside was a delicate ring, simple and perfect. Her eyes stung instantly.
Harry laughed, watery, eyes so bright. “Look, I know you’re a menace. You drive me absolutely mad. You steal the covers and use my toothbrush sometimes and leave your hair all over the flat. But I can’t — I don’t want — to do any of this without you. Ever again.”
She covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. “Harry—”
“Love.” His grin was crooked, voice breaking. “Will you marry me?”
She nodded so hard it hurt, a laugh bubbling out through her tears. “Yes. Yes, obviously, you goof.”
Harry let out this wrecked little noise, then was pulling her into his lap, hugging her so tight the ring box squished between them.
When he finally pulled back to slip the ring onto her shaking finger, his own hands were trembling so badly it took two tries.
“Told you you’d ruin me,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.
She laughed through a sob. “You love it.”
“Yeah,” he breathed. “I fuckin’ love you.”
Then he kissed her — slow and sweet and a little salty from both their tears — while the fire crackled on beside them, the sky hanging low and gray overhead, and everything else fell perfectly, irrevocably into place.
PART TWO | CRASH OUT || a harry styles x you fic.
word count: 4,935
content warning: tension & arguments & love island antics
summary: you and harry were the strongest couple in the villa, until the recoupling after casa amor. now, with some time to talk, you learn more things were happening in casa than what you had seen prior.
author's note: y'all loved this so much (which I did not think you would???) so I just had to write a little something today - this will ultimately be a short series because it's pretty easy to write once you get into it! I have another part that I cut from this one because I figured it's more fun to have more stories to post, so keep an eye out for that <3 I'm trying a few different ways to write it to make it feel like you're watching it but also feel a bit more story-like! also - wrote a character list at the top for your info!
hope you guys enjoy <3
Tonight on Love Island: Here is your breakdown after the recoupling...
You are Single | Luca is Single | Megan is Single | Tash and Harry | Ella and Johnny | Megan and Ronan | Tiana and Liam | Jess and Mitch
{In the Villa}
You go to sit with Luca on one of the low couches near the beanbags, your heels click together as you walk across the pavement. Your knees tucked up beneath you when you sat, a half-empty glass of water balanced between your palms. The night is thick with that strange, quiet buzz that happens when everyone’s pretending that they’re okay.
Luca watches you for a second before going to say anything; he pauses and gives you a reassuring smile.
“Y’alright?” he asks you, making conversation light.
You give him a small smile but nothing more, because you don’t really know how to feel but don’t want to show that to him immediately. “Don’t know really, just feel a bit betrayed.”
He nods in understanding. “Didn’t expect that, you know. Him walking back with her—like I was just under the impression that he was going to test it in Casa, but I figured that you would have had that conversation beforehand, y’know what I mean?”
You shrug, not having anything else to say, “Neither did I—and that’s why I’m fuming, Luca, it’s almost like he was waiting for the opportunity to leave.”
Silence hangs for a moment; you wonder if Luca knows something more, but isn’t saying it, so you allow there to be a space held for that conversation.
Harry and Luca are good mates, but you two have always had an open communication – he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s been choosing girls that aren’t choosing him back so you both feel relatively on the same page at the moment.
Tiana and Luca were coupled prior to Casa, but she had chosen Liam instead – it was for the best, seeming that they were getting along quite better than her and Luca had prior. That left you both single in the villa now, and given a certain opportunity, it may be best to try and explore the connection to make sure that you’re safe.
“I just thought…” Luca hesitates for a moment, shrugging as his arm gets placed around the seat where you’re sitting, “Like, if anyone was gonna make it through Casa, it was you two, so it’s a real twist in the villa now.”
You press your lips together, slowly letting your lower lip press further into your mouth as you start to gnaw on it softly. You know that your lip gloss is being smudged, but you’re not sure that you can just listen to Luca tell you all of the good parts about you and Harry.
You just respond with, “Yeah. Me too.”
“He talked about you a lot before he left, said you grounded him. Said it felt different with you—dunno, obviously he kept choosing you and you kept choosing him.”
You look over, surprised at Luca’s comments and allowing them to settle on you for a moment. “I mean it’s all talk though, isn’t it? He still brought her back.”
Luca nods, taking a sip of his drink before he adds, “I mean, but then… I dunno. Something changed. Tash walked into Casa and it was like—”
He stops himself for a minute, realizing he may have over-spoke. His voice got quiet, and he looked back up at you for a moment.
“Like what?” you ask, though you’re not sure you want the answer. You squint at him softly, trying to act like you don’t need the information that may be withheld. “Go on—I need to know if he’s still not being honest.”
Luca exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Like, I heard him make a comment where he wanted to remind himself that he could still pull, ‘cause I guess you two have been a thing since the beginning and it was just a game to him, or something. To pull Tash.”
“Did he say that?” You ask quickly, almost in awe of the fact that Luca would say that so openly, like he had been holding it in. The words slam into your chest at a frequency you weren’t aware of
Harry acted like what you had wasn’t real — just something to trade in for a quick ego boost and a pretty girl in Casa, which is exactly what he had been doing without you around. Your hands start to tremble around your glass you had been holding, so you moved it between palms to ensure Luca didn’t see your shake.
Luca clocks the shift in your face, noticing immediately that your disappointment may have turned into a bit of anger now.
“Shit,” he says quickly. “I—I mean I don’t think he did it with bad intentions or anything,”
“No, it’s fine,” you cut in, standing up too fast. “You’re right. It makes sense now.”
Luca seems to have a bit of panic that he spoke far too much, “Hey—”
“I’m gonna pull him and clear some things up.”
You don’t wait for Luca to respond. You feel the walls closing in and you need answers — real ones, not just polite excuses and hollow regret that he tried to express. You find Harry near the outdoor kitchen, talking with Tash, who’s pretending not to glance at you every five seconds.
Your heart’s thudding so hard between your rubs that you barely hear your own voice speak out to him.
“Harry,” you say firmly, giving him a look, “can I pull you for a chat quickly?”
He looks up at you with a bit of surprise crossed over his features, maybe even hopeful, and nods without a word before following you.
He follows you toward the fire pit, where the embers are still burning. You take a seat at the benches and tuck your dress under your knees before you cross your legs and let him settle for a minute before you take in a deep breath before you say what you need to say.
“So, I hear that you had told some people in Casa,” you start, voice calm but breaking beneath, “that you felt different with me. That I grounded you. That what we had was real.”
He nods, a hesitant caution over him as he started to nod a bit in agreement. “Yeah, that’s true, I did.”
“But then I’m also told that you needed some reminder,” you say, looking him straight in the eyes, “why did you need to remind yourself that you could still pull?”
The color drains from his face when you keep speaking with a confidence; his eyes glance quickly away from you which is all that you need to know. You don’t even wait for his answer before continuing.
“Because that’s what you told the boys in Casa, isn’t it? That you walked into Casa, and you let yourself forget everything we had. Just so you could prove you still had game, and that pulling Tash was some kind of game to you. So, is it a connection or is it a game?”
Harry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He licks over his lips and blinks a few times at the ground before he knits his brows together to try and come to a conclusion, but you can tell… he has nothing else to say.
You shake your head, blinking fast to keep the tears from falling.
“For the record, I was never holding you back, Harry. You didn’t need to pull. You just needed to stay.”
He shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak again, trying to reach for your hand. You pull back almost like his hand was on fire.
“I need to know if this was ever real for you. Or if I was just something steady until someone shinier walked in, because if that’s the case, I’m not even mad—I’m just over it and done.”
Harry’s mouth opens like he wants to argue — like he’s searching for some excuse to protect himself.
“I can understand that what you’re hearing may be hurtful, but that’s not fair,” he says, voice clipped. “You’re twisting it into something different than what it was.”
You blink slowly. “Am I? That’s not what it sounds like from what I’m hearing—unless you’re just lying.”
Harry runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. His jaw is clenched, his chest rising and falling faster and you can tell that he’s trying to make sense of it all.
“I didn’t plan to connect with her, alright? It wasn’t like that. It was just—Casa messes with your head, and I was making a joke about the fact that I hadn’t really pulled girls in the villa since you and I were so strong—it had nothing to do with our connection or the fact that I was bored.”
“Well, you kissed her in the Hideaway,” you say flatly, arms folded across your stomach like you’re trying to hold yourself together. “You don’t just end up there by accident, and I think it sounds a lot more than just pulling for the game.”
He exhales sharply, turning back to you. His voice rises a little.
“I was trying to figure it out! Everyone was telling me to explore, test things. I didn’t want to look like an idiot if you’d cracked on, too, which I know you did.”
You laugh once, short and disbelieving as you squint at him. “So, you did it to protect yourself—called her naughty and trouble.”
He hesitates for a moment; you can tell that he doesn’t want to lie, but doesn’t want to make anything worse, and then, softer: “Yeah. Maybe I did. I don’t think it’s that big of a deal here. I always had the intention of coming back to you here.”
That silence after his words lands like a brick. You look at him, and for a second, just a second, he sees it. The way your lip trembles at his words, and the way that your eyes are glassy with the recognition that he had hurt you. The way you’re so tired of fighting for something he already threw away. You don’t even know if you want to fight for it anymore.
Harry softly closes his eyes as he shakes his head and rests his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t—I’m just sorry. What we had wasn’t made up or fake or whatever—these past weeks weren’t just thrown away.”
You nod once, solidified in his statement with a simple statement of your own. “It might not’ve been fake. But it stopped being real the second you let her kiss you.”
That hits him almost like a bullet, so he breathes in slowly. And something in him starts to fold.
“I didn’t stop thinking about you,” he says, voice is soft to keep it between you both as he shakes his head as if he can’t believe that you’re having this conversation. “Even when I was with her, even when I was doing all that stupid flirting —"
You look at him, and for a moment you’re not angry anymore.
“You knew it would hurt me,” you whisper staring at your hands, “and you did it anyway.”
Harry’s eyes shine. “I know. I know I did. And—and I was selfish.”
“I don’t even know how to be mad anymore,” you murmur, staring at the ground. “I feel stupid. And empty. And I don’t want to cry over someone who didn’t choose me.”
Harry moves towards you on the bench, looking down at you before he lets his shoulders drop.
“I did choose you—I always chose you, but” he says, quietly desperate. “I just… didn’t respect you, and I’m sorry.”
You look at him through blurred eyes, but you can’t let the tears fall because you don’t want to give it more energy than it’s worth anymore. “Then why does it feel like you didn’t?”
He doesn’t have an answer for you, so he looks away with his tail between his legs and wants to speak but decides against it. You press your fingers under your eyes to not ruin your makeup, swallowing a sob as you look away from him.
And neither of you says anything more. Because maybe for the first time since this whole thing began, he understands that he broke something he might not be able to put back together. The silence has stretched too long as you sit there.
Harry is still crouched next to you but keeps a look on his face that he still has more to say, lips parted like he might speak — but he doesn’t. You can feel it by the way that he rubs his palms over his pants and looks away. There’s still something he’s not saying. You blink slowly, jaw tight before you swallow.
“Did you sleep in the same bed as her?”
His eyes flick away for a split second, and that’s all you need. That was the confirmation that you needed.
“Harry,” you say, louder now, standing up. “Did you sleep in bed with her?”
Nothing-- there’s nothing for him to say because he’s not going to lie to you, which makes this feel even worse in the moment.
You let out a sharp breath and shake your head. “Right.”
And then, before he can move or follow or stop you, you stand quickly from your spot on the bench and walk across the patio, heels clicking against the pavement as you make your way back to where a smaller group sits.
The rest of the villa is scattered — Ella and Tiana are on some loungers by the pool, the boys are grouped near the kitchen, and Tash is sitting on the edge of a daybed, twisting her hair around her finger, laughing at something Mitch is saying.
She looks up just in time to see you walking straight for her. The air has a bit of a shift when you realize that the villa is watching you walk to her, angrily away from Harry. Harry starts to follow you when he realizes that you are going towards Tash, he stops in his tracks.
Tash’s smile towards Mitch drops when she sees you approaching.
“Hey,” she says, cautious. You don’t waste time; your time has been wasted enough these past few weeks.
“Did you and Harry sleep in the same bed in Casa?”
The villa goes dead silent, almost like everyone had been waiting for the ball to drop and for you to have some sort of crash out.
Tash blinks, sitting up softly like she’s trying to think about what she needs to say to make her not seem like the bad guy. “What?”
“It’s a simple question, Tash, really—I’m not here to bullshit you or be mad at you because I know you’re just coming into Casa, but I just have to know because while I was making connections in Casa I was being respectful and staying out of other men’s beds because I had already made a connection here, so I just want to know.”
Tash hesitates for a moment, glances past you — toward Harry, who’s now standing with Ella and Johnny near the kitchen. Then she lifts her chin with a confidence that you appreciate.
“Yeah,” she says, a bit meek but you disregard that. “We did—just the last two nights.”
You close your eyes for half a second before you realize that you have nothing to be mad about—he’s not yours anymore, and you don’t want him. The girls react instantly; Mitch looks between the two of you like he was just there to settle if something went down.
“What the fuck,” Ella mutters under her breath. She looks at Harry before he rolls his eyes and exhales like he couldn’t believe that this had become his life.
Mitch whistles, biting on his lip as he runs a hand down his face.
You nod once, like you’ve just confirmed something you already knew, “Cool—I appreciate the honesty.”
Then you turn to walk back to where Harry is standing with Ella and Johnny; Harry’s watching from a few feet away, face pale, jaw set. You meet his eyes with a hurt that you hadn’t really felt before.
“You couldn’t even say it,” you say, voice shaking. “You let her do it for you, you’re such a fucking bullshitter.”
Harry runs a hand through his hair, muttering, “It wasn’t like that.”
You fold your arms, raising your voice at him. “It was exactly like that. You cuddled up with her at night and kissed her in the Hideaway like I wasn’t lying in bed alone thinking about you so you can get your dick up? Fucking prick.”
You can see the guilt and the remorse that crosses his face because he knows exactly what you were referring to; you two had been intimate together, and while it was still Love Island, it still hurt to know that he had decided to lay in another bed with another girl doing who knows what.
But it’s not enough to watch him feel guilty. Instead, you walk back across the villa, past every stunned face, every wide eye, and back to the daybed where Tiana’s already holding a space for you to sit down, where you can keep your shoulders back and your chin high.
You might be heartbroken, but you are not small.
{NARRATOR}
Well, that escalated quickly, didn’t it? One question turned into a full-blown villa bombshell — and it looks like Harry has finally realized what it means to fumble the bag in front of everyone. Looks like the only thing he can pull now is his hair out!
The girls are gathered in the dressing room, the air heavy and quiet with some sort of exhaustion from the sun and complete heartbreak from the fact that this could have happened to any of them. It was just a half-circle of crossed legs, red-rimmed eyes, and half-sipped glasses of water nobody really wanted.
You’re sitting on the edge of a chair, fingers clenched in your lap, hair still half-curled from earlier when you thought tonight might be fun or you might feel better about your connection.
Ella’s next to you; Tiana’s perched on the counter; Jess sits with her back against the vanity; Megan is sat at her vanity space. With another beat, all of you watch as Tash walks in last.
There’s a pause — thick enough to cut. She stands in front of the group, eyes flicking between everyone, but then settling on you.
“Can I sit?” she asks, gently, almost like she was hoping you would just yell at her instead of being nice; it may make her feel less shitty about her experience, but instead you just nod once.
She lowers herself onto the bench across from you, tucking her legs beneath her.
“I just wanna say something, okay? No drama, just… girl to girl,” She looks around at everyone, her voice a bit weary as she starts to speak again.
You don’t respond. You’re staring at the floor, jaw tight, heart pounding at what else she could reveal to you.
“I didn’t come in trying to wreck anything,” Tash continues, “Y’know, I liked Harry. He was flirty, yeah, but he never mentioned you in a way that made it feel closed off—like I knew he was in a connection, but I guess he just flirted with me more than he should have.”
Jess shifts uncomfortably. Tiana shoots a look toward Ella, but no one says anything.
“And I get it now,” Tash says. “I didn’t realize how deep it was with you two. I wouldn’t have gone there if I knew, truly.” She swallows and licks over her lips as she shakes her head. “But I didn’t kiss him thinking I was stealing someone’s boyfriend, you know what I mean?”
Still, you say nothing. The room is quiet as they’re waiting for you to speak.
Tiana shakes her head instead before taking the initiative, “It’s just muggy, innit? Like he knew that was going to humiliate Y/N and did it anyways, you know.”
“I just think the bed thing was mad disrespectful,” Ella says with no disregard, “Like, just knowing the context of it all—I don’t know.”
“I just feel like an idiot,” you say shrugging before you look up at Tash, “It’s fine. It’s not your fault—I get he wanted to test our connection, and he did it.”
You glance around the room, eyes darting like you’re trying to make sense of your own place here.
“I just feel stupid for trusting him so effortlessly. For sleeping alone every night, for saying no to other boys while he was cuddled up with you.”
Ella scoots closer, her hand brushing your back.
“I thought we were solid. I thought we were the couple people looked at and went, ‘Yeah, they’re real.’ And now?” Your voice catches as you start to take your makeup off with a wipe to try and hide the fact that tears are threatening, “I feel like a joke.”
Tash looks genuinely upset by the fact that she could have done something wrong. “You’re not. Honestly, I wouldn’t have—”
“I know,” you cut in, gently but firmly as you look at her. “I know you didn’t do it to hurt me—please don’t take it personally.”
You take a deep breath, but it doesn’t steady you. “It just hurts anyway.”
The girls all stay quiet as they begin to get ready for bed, and they know sometimes silence is safer than platitudes. Jess leans over and grabs a tissue, handing it to you.
“You don’t owe anyone forgiveness tonight,” Ella says softly, almost privately. “Not him. Not her. You just do what you need.” She glances toward Tash who’s started to look through her items to get ready for bed. “And to be fair, she showed up. That means something.”
You nod again, but your voice is barely there now.
“I just need to not feel like I got played.”
Tiana leans over from the counter, “Then don’t – you just need to feel like a girl who gave her heart to someone who didn’t know how to hold it because he’s a lad.”
You press the tissue to your face and smile, just slightly. The first honest thing you’ve felt in hours.
+++
The night’s gone quiet now, most of the girls have disappeared into the dressing room with Y/N when she started to walk off. Tash is nowhere to be seen, either, which gives Harry a bit of anxiety if he’s being honest. The fire pit crackles low in the background.
Harry sits on one of the beanbags, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, palms scrubbing over his face. Luca lounges next to him, arms behind his head, watching him with a slow, almost sympathetic blink.
Mitch and Ronan are there too, passing a bottle of water back and forth. No one says anything at first, the only thing heard is Harry exhaling loudly.
“You alright, bruv?” Luca asks quietly before glancing over at Harry.
Harry finally sits back, dragging his hands down his face, “I didn’t think it would get that bad—I’m honest to God, I didn’t think that the bed thing would come up.”
Luca shrugs, letting an arm rest behind his head. “I don’t think you were thinking at all.”
That lands to hurt him like a jab, and Harry is silent.
Ronan, trying to soften the blow, leans forward and shakes his head to try and make sense of what Harry did, “Look, Casa was a head-fuck. You get in your own head. Everyone’s buzzing around saying ‘test the connection,’ and you start convincing yourself it’s what you should do—and to be fair, Tash came onto you very strongly.”
Mitch chimes in, “Yeah. Like, I see both sides. You didn’t do anything that loads of lads haven’t done in there. But—”
He glances toward the villa. “It seemed that you had something real with her, like more than that sexual chemistry, you know.”
Harry nods slowly, contemplating what he had in front of him. “I know.”
Luca gestures vaguely. “And Tash? I mean… she’s sound. Not the one you’ve been sleeping next to since day one. Not the one who never cracked on, either.”
Harry’s eyes flick up. “That’s the part that’s killing me, you know? I kept thinking, what if she was moving mad on her end? What if I came back looking like a mug?”
The boys know that there was the potential to have this moment; there had to be communication, and they knew that Harry felt just as guilty, but scared that he was going to come back to Y/N also testing the connection and keeping another guy there.
Ronan spoke up, “Mate, you came back with a girl. You can’t be shocked she’s stepped back at bit.”
Harry slumps back again, rubbing his chest like it physically aches. “I messed it. And now she’s looking at me like she doesn’t even know me.”
Luca shifts, arms crossed. “That’s what happens when you break someone’s trust. You don’t just get to explain it away.”
Harry nods again, slower this time. “I know.”
The boys sit with that for a moment.
Then Ronan, a little softer: “You think you’ll pull her back?”
Harry lets out a shaky breath, “I don’t know. I want to. I’d drop everything with Tash tonight if it meant I could fix it with her. But… I think she’s already gone in her head so I’m like… I don’t want to mess shit up with Tash now if it’s really over for us. Because Tash is mad cool too.”
Mitch leans back, sighing. “Well, if you want to try — you better show her something real. No more flirting, no more excuses. Show her you mean it.”
Harry looks down at his hands, quiet. For once, he doesn’t have a comeback. There’s no jokes or smirks coming from him as he feels the sting in the back of his eyes. He’s just a boy who fumbled the one person who made this villa feel like something more than just a game.
The villa buzz has faded into soft rustling — hairbrushes against tangles, toothbrushes tapping against sinks, and the occasional low whisper between couples slipping under the duvet.
You’re in the dressing room with the girls, wiping off your makeup in silence while Ella hands you a clean face cloth. Tiana squeezes your shoulder on the way to the bedroom, but no one says much.
No one needs to say anything at all to excuse what’s happened and how it continues to move throughout the villa. There’s a dynamic switch that has happened, mostly because the individuals in the villa that saw a light in you both is now gone. The damage has already been done, and there is now a shift in the mood.
Cut to the main bedroom, where the lights are dimmed and the duvets are already turned down when the islanders start to move into the sheets. A few of the couples are climbing into bed, bare legs tangling beneath cool sheets.
Tash walks in quietly after putting on her pajamas and rinsing her face and taking off her makeup, pulling her long hair up into a bun. She pads over to her side of the bed, the bed that her and Harry will ultimately share tonight.
He’s already there, sitting on the edge, shirtless, elbows on knees as he faces away from her. She starts to lift the covers to move into her spot. He gently leans back and gives her a soft look as he rubs his hand down his jaw.
“Don’t take it personally, yeah? I’m gonna sleep alone in the Hideaway tonight.”
Tash blinks, confused at his words before he speaks again.
“Just for tonight. Think it’s better. Out of respect.”
She holds his stare for a second, then nods and doesn’t say anything more. She understand the consequences that sharing a bed tonight could have—also, it starts to affirm that she had come in at the wrong time.
You’re lying on your side, facing the room, back to Ella, eyes half-closed but not sleeping—you feel so exhausted but barely tired at all.
Harry’s sitting at the edge of his bed one minute, hoodie in hand, slides cover his feet as he just stands with a smooth and slow motion. He picks up his water bottle from the floor and walks toward the door. The click of it opening slices through the silence of the main bedroom.
A few heads lift instinctively at the sound, and seeing Harry leave the room without Tash. She covers herself back up in the blankets, but the other islanders watch.
Ella turns slightly in her bed; Luca glances over his shoulder to see the noise; Jess lifts her head halfway, brows furrowed.
Even you look up — just enough to track Harry’s silhouette slipping through the door.
You notice that Tash didn’t follow behind. But once he’s left there’s no awkward whispers or explanations or realizations. But everyone feels it, and no one says a word.
All you know is that he doesn’t want to share a bed with Tash tonight in front of you. The first respectful thing he’s done all night - you could argue.
CASA AMOR || a harry styles x you one-shot.
word count: 5,085
content warning: tension & arguments
summary: you and harry are the strongest couple on love island. but, when he goes to casa amor, you learn it may not be as good as it seems. movie night ensues.
this is my take on this request so I am VERY sorry if you're not a love island fan, but that's all that's been taking up my brain recently soooo sorry:
The sun had been hot in the sky that day, casting long shadows across the villa lawn where the majority of you had been laying out on sunbeds, giggling and getting to know the new boys who had arrived two days ago. The fire pit hasn’t been lit yet, but the air is buzzing with flirtation and nervous energy from the day that you had all met one another.
You’re lounging on a beanbag in your bikini top and a sarong, sipping a watered-down iced drink. Tiana’s braiding Jess’s hair, and Megan is off to the side kicking a beach ball toward the pool with two of the Casa boys who are trying to impress her with their footie skills. You hear her laugh at something one of them said.
It feels normal, but you miss them—you miss him. You hadn’t forgotten the moment that he left, even though you’re still searching for new connections here. That’s what you had both promised yourselves—and you had, for the most part. There were five new bombshells that were completely winning your approval, one in particular that you had gotten to know; his name was Connor, and he was a marketing coordinator from Galway. He had a crooked smile and dark hair and had been kind in the best way.
No, you weren’t closed off in any way, but you were being respectful in the time that you had with him because you knew that you’d had a stronger connection elsewhere.
You hadn’t had any fear or inconsistency in your thoughts. Well, until Jess’s phone pinged out with a text.
PING, PING.
Everyone freezes at the familiar sound that usually means doom—in some way, shape or form. You sit up straight, biting on the straw of your water bottle.
“I got a text!” Jess shouts out, the boys perking up with all of you as well. Your chest goes tight, what could be happening now?
Jess takes her phone and reads out to the group, “Islanders, please get ready: it’s Movie Night—it’s time to see what the boys have been getting up to in Casa Amor. Seen any scary movies recently?”
The reaction is instantaneous, girls gasping and looking at one another. Tiana drops the hair she was braiding. “Noooo, stop!”
Jess shakes her head as she puts her phone down as she takes a sip from her water bottle. “I’m gonna be ill.”
Megan, deadpan: “I knew it. I knew they were up to something.”
You swallow hard, setting your water bottle down. The Casa boys stop mid-play, grabbing their makeshift soccer ball that they had been using from the blow-up pool ball, and you notice that some try to act nonchalant
Connor reaches you with a smirk on his face and says, “I mean… depends on what you see, innit?”
Ella glares at him, then adjusts the sunglasses on her face. “Exactly what I’m worried about.”
You stand up slowly, heart beating out of rhythm because you know how this is going to go—you can feel it. One of the most interesting parts of Harry in this entire experience was that he was flirt. You’re not sure what to expect, but you’ve stayed loyal—you weren’t closed off, but you were loyal to his connection. You felt like Harry was on the same page.
Now? You don’t know anymore, especially not knowing what you’re about to see.
The girls begin making their way back upstairs to the vanity space to get ready, murmuring under their breath, nerves jangling around the small mirrors and contour sticks. The Casa boys trail behind them — it’s a bit awkward, a bit amused.
Tiana grabs your hand as you walk.
“Whatever we see,” she says, voice low, “just remember who you are, and what you stand for, okay? You’re a badass bitch, and no one is going to take that away from you.”
You squeeze her fingers, walking into the vanity space before you look back at her. “Trying. You too.”
You’re standing in front of the vanity mirror with a makeup brush in hand, swiping bronzer over your cheekbones with automatic precision.
Behind you, Ella’s rifling through the clothes rail, holding up two tops like she’s choosing between them for the Emmys. Tiana lounges on the bench, applying lip gloss and watching you in the mirror.
“So,” Megan says casually, digging through her makeup bag, “what’s the vibe tonight, babe? All eyes still on Harry, yeah? Is he going to fuck it all up?”
You give her a look in the mirror — you have one brow raised as you swipe your lip gloss over your lips, giving a hint of pink but more shine than anything else.
“I mean…,” You laugh a little bit as you trail off, “Yeah, eyes are still set on him. Connor and I had some good chats and all, but I think that’s more slow burning. But you know how it is.”
Ella chimes in, turning around with a sparkly halter in hand. “Connor’s fit, but it’s not the same, is it? I feel the same with Johnny—it’s just not Ian, you know what I mean?”
You sigh, dragging the brush down your neck to even out the bronzer that seemed to have a bit more color in the light, blending everything together.
“No, it’s not. Harry and I—there’s something there, there always has been. Since day one, it’s just… clicked. We are super solid, but I know he can be having a connection over there. Just hope he’s being respectful, that’s all.”
“But you’re open, yeah?” Tiana asks, her tone cautious. “Just in case.”
You nod slowly, eyes falling to the counter.
“Yeah, we both said we’d be open; we’d test connections. But I don’t know… it still feels like he’s mine.” You blink quickly, shaking your head as you bite on your lip. “Stupid, I know.”
“It’s not stupid,” Ella says, tossing a hair clip onto the vanity. “It’s real. You’ve been solid. But we just have to remember it’s Love Island, babe. Nothing’s promised.”
You laugh quietly at that, shaking your head as you place the mascara along your lash line. “Don’t I know it.”
Tiana stands and smooths her skirt down, shaking herself in the mirror for a moment to solidify her look. “You look gorgeous, by the way. If he sees you tonight, it’ll be a good reminder that he’s got a bird here.”
You smile softly, adjusting your hair one last time. “Hope he’s thinking about me and that night in the Hideaway like I’m his only savior.”
The girls go quiet for a beat, focusing on their own looks. Hair is up, clothes are one, heels are being tied around their calves with precision.
Then Ella says gently, tying the strap of her halter, “Let’s just hope we don’t see too much tonight.”
You meet her eyes in the mirror, the air going still as you try and think about what had been happening over at the Casa house. You try to laugh it off, but your chest is tight.
“Boys will be boys, won’t they?”
When you are all finished, you had made your way back to the main living space, the Casa boys following behind you girls as you are all muttering around at what you could be seeing tonight. The cushions are set on the lawn, benches ready for you all to take a seat.
You sit in the front middle row as you have Ella on one side and Tiana on the other of you. Connor is sitting behind you on the benched bleachers behind you.
Because whatever’s coming next? It could change everything.
The projector screen flickers to life as you all sit down with your drinks in your hand. You’re sitting in a line with the girls, your heart in your throat. You’ve been loyal with him since day one, but you have a feeling in your chest.
You’ve known Harry’s flirtatious, he always has that little glint in his eye, but you trusted him to know where the line was.
Still, your stomach’s been twisting all day. You barely touched your dinner. And now, your hands are clammy and still as the screen pops up with words written across it in white font, with a plain background.
“The Hideaway Kiss.”
A few of the girl’s murmur, your eyes focused as you lean forward slightly.
The screen cuts to a shot of the Casa Amor garden — the moon is high and reflecting off of the pool, the pool lights glowing soft and blue. Harry is sitting on a sun lounger with a drink in his hand before his eyes flicker up to another girl—Tash, a girl that came in through Casa Amor, a girl that Harry had been attracted too when they had their first kiss on a blindfolded challenge.
Tiana puts her hand on her mouth as she notices where this is going to go.
Then, a voice off screen urges him: “Come on, then. It’s quieter in there.”
Your breath stutters as you can’t even peel your eyes away if you tried.
You recognize that voice now. The screen cuts to the Hideaway door as it opens to the patio; two figures stepping out into the cut off room. The private room.
It’s Harry speaking then, “Taking me somewhere cheeky, are we?”
“Oh, Harry, fucking hell,” Ella states with disappointment as she shakes her head; her hand in in yours.
Tash tucks some hair behind her ears as she looks to make sure that Harry is still behind her as she shrugs, moving to sit on the bench swing, “We’re just up here talking, yeah? Unless you’re a bit scared.”
You try to not make any reaction—a reaction means this is going to hurt you. On the screen, Harry follows her into the smaller, more private rea before he laughs a bit dry with his drink in his hand, “Want me all for yourself, I see.”
They sit on the swing together; he’s wearing a tan button down that enhances his own bronze skin that had been kissed by the sun these past few weeks. The pink of his cheeks means he’s warm, but you aren’t sure if it’s from her or from the day by the pool.
Tash giggles a little as she faces him, pulling her legs up underneath her, “You always this smug when you’re alone with a girl?”
Harry takes a sip of his prosecco before he shrugs, the smirk is almost disgusting you right now, “Only when they’ve got something important to say.”
She nudges him with her knee, they’re close. You can already feel the blood drain from your face before Ella and Jess both break out in their own criticisms.
“That fucking prick!”
“Oh my god, Harry.”
It’s almost like you just can’t rip your eyes from the screen, you just shake your head as you murmur under your breath, “So fucked up.”
You watch as Tash blinks back at him with a flirtatious style that is matching his body language; you almost feel sick at the way that he stares at her when she speaks, “You’re quite trouble.”
He laughs then as he leans against the pillows. The exact laugh you’ve fallen asleep to every night. Easy, warm, low in his throat—almost resembles a giggle, but it’s softer than that. You can see the way that the smile reaches his eyes, and his eyes are piercing into hers like they hadn’t even broken eye contact once.
“Bet you’d like a bit of trouble, though.” She tells him quietly—quiet enough that there are subtitles to decipher them which makes you take in a deep breath.
Harry’s just grinning as he breaks eye contact to stare at his hand, focusing on the tassel on one of the pillows, “Wouldn’t say no to it if it came knocking.”
Tiana swears under her breath beside you. And then—on screen—Tash leans in and kisses him. Of course, it’s not a peck—it’s slow and her hands move to his neck, pulling him closer as they move together.
And he lets her. For a second, maybe two.
“Fucking messy, that is,” Jess comments, biting at her long nail as you hear some of the other girls gasp for a moment, shaking their head.
Then he leans back and says, “You’re naughty.”
But he’s smiling when he says it. The screen fades to black, and the villa all of the sudden has a hush of silence that you hadn’t felt before. There’s no music, no movement, no real closure to this. You sit still with an upright, stoic posture. It feels like your body is floating outside itself.
Tiana is the first to speak, then. “Are you okay?”
You don’t answer right away. The image is still burned into your mind — the shape of his mouth on hers. The way he let it happen like it was nothing—like he just completely forgot what you both had.
Ella puts a hand on your back.
“I—I mean, there’s a way to be respectful, and this completely just crossed all of the boundaries that we’ve had,” you clear your throat, licking over your lips, “It’s just—I guess I’m just shocked, but I shouldn’t be.”
Jess looks down. “He looked into it. The way he smiled—”
Megan shakes her head. “He let her take him into the Hideaway. That’s not just a cheeky chat. That’s a choice.”
You nod once, and then you stand without anything further to say about it. Everyone looks up at you.
“I’m fine,” you lie, shrugging as you go to move around the boys, “Just want some air.”
You walk past the pool, away from the lights to that little corner near the tree with the bench where you and Harry used to sneak away after the recouplings to discuss what had happened. The night he kissed your shoulder. The night he told you that you make things feel easy, even when the villa’s mad and the bombshells come in and he really only wanted to get to know you.
You sit there and wrap your arms around yourself. Because now you know what he really thinks and how he really is. It didn’t take a bed—it didn’t even take a night… or even much time. All it took was just a moment.
And he took it with her.
{NARRATOR}
Somewhere in Casa Amor, the boys are just being boys—chatting in swim shorts, giving bad advice, and mistaking confusion for clarity. And Harry? He’s about to make the kind of choice that follows you all the way back to the villa… if he makes it back in one piece.
The sun is now high in the sky, painting the lounger’s gold. The air smells like sunscreen and regret.
Harry leans back in a chair by the pool, sunglasses low on his nose, fiddling with the condensation on his water bottle. Around him, the boys are buzzing; they’re talking about which girls are “proper fit,” who’s grafting, who’s playing it safe. Who they may want to bring back to the villa, who they are coupled up with now.
He’s trying to listen. But he can’t stop thinking… about you. And now, about Tash. He’s biting the inside of his lip as he takes in a breath, and turns towards Ronan when he speaks.
“Alright,” Ronan says, smirking at him. “So what’s the deal, mate? You and Tash have been getting cozy, huh?”
Harry shrugs, sitting up on the lounger as he rubs some of the sunscreen on his shoulder. “She’s actually real sound. Got that little attitude, y’know? Keeps me on my toes.”
Luca grins, leaning back on his arms as he sips on his water bottle. “And she’s into you, bruv. Like, properly into you—Christina made a comment about you both in the Hideaway?”
The others laugh at that, eyes scrunching when they ask all the questions they can think of.
“Yeah, but I think it’s fun to explore, but,” Ronan says, leaning forward. “But don’t forget what you’ve got back at the villa.”
Harry shifts on the seat, trying to make himself more comfortable against the cushions. “Don’t need reminding on that.”
“Well,” Ronan presses, looking over his shoulder as the girls sit by the kitchen, making breakfast, “you’ve been with her since day one. You really gonna throw that for someone you’ve known two days?”
Harry rubs the back of his neck as he pushes his sunglasses back on the bridge of his nose; they’ve fallen a bit with the sweat of the summer heat. “That’s the thing. It’s not like I want to throw anything. But I came here to test things. You lot were saying the same.”
“Yeah,” Luca says, scrunching his nose in the hot heat. “And Tash isn’t nothing—she’s proper fit. There’s a vibe, innit?”
Harry pauses, shrugging. “…There is. With her, I mean. The sexual chemistry is there for sure,” He licks his lips, “but I think the conversations I’ve had with Y/N is unmatched from any girl I’ve had here.”
The boys nod like they’ve cracked some secret; like they’ve seen everything they’ve needed to see.
“And it’s not the same as what I have with her back at the villa, you know what I mean?” Harry says, voice quieter now. “It’s different.” He breathes in slow, then adds, “But I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t open. And Tash—she’s here. She’s flirting. It’s easy, and I do want to explore if there was more there.”
“And it should be,” Ronan speaks up, almost like a reminder. “You’re not closed off or anything.”
Luca turns towards the girls, before turning back to Harry, “What do you think she’s doing right now?”
Harry laughs once, low as he tries to remain a bit nonchalant with his words. “Hopefully not what I’m doing.”
That gets a few whoops and groans as they all smugly smile; Harry bites on the straw of his water bottle and shakes his head.
“Look,” Ronan says. “You bring Tash back; you’ve still got options. You bring no one? You’re banking on her standing there alone. That’s the risk. Guess it depends on if she’s testing her connection over in the villa.”
Harry nods, knowing the risks—he doesn’t need them laid out to him, but he takes in a deep breath.
“She’s gonna be fuming if she stayed loyal,” he mutters out, breathing out sharply before shaking his head. “Proper fuming.”
“Or she might’ve cracked on with another, mate,” Luca shrugs, throwing his arm above his head as he’s leaned back on one of the lounger seats. “You don’t know.”
Harry leans forward now, elbows on his knees, head down. “I just don’t want to be the prick that doesn’t know what’s he’s had, you know what I mean? But that’s what the experience is for, yeah? Like, it would be a disservice to not test the connection.”
“Too late if you already kissed someone, mate,” Ronan tells him, hoenstly. “Pretty tested, I think.”
Harry doesn’t respond. A beat of silence presses between all of them, Tash and a few of the girls giggling in the corner; the red bikini on her body makes her stand out amongst them. Then, Luca questions him: “You bringing Tash back or what?”
Harry exhales through his nose. Still looking down, as if he doesn’t really want to do what he’s about to do. It doesn’t feel like him to sneak around and to be testing something that’s already good. “I think I have to.”
The boys clap his back. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re just exploring, yeah?”
“Right.” Harry says, confidence not lacing his words as he moves to stand up—moving to possibly pull Tash for a chat if he can muster up the courage to do so.
But even as he grins and grabs his bottle, something inside his chest doesn’t feel celebratory or like he is certain with that decision. Something tightens then, because deep down, he knows he’s not just exploring this relationship. He’s crossing a line.
{NARRATOR}
It’s been said that love grows in the villa—but sometimes it burns. Especially after a return from Casa Amor that’ll go down in Love Island history. Someone grab the popcorn.
You sit at the fire pit in a white dress that’s pulled at your hips, hands clenched in your lap, nails digging into your palm so you don’t fall apart. The air is buzzing with tension with the other women around you, the boys who have joined you in your days in the villa, hearts hammering under pretty lashes and fake tan.
This is the moment. Maya Jama glances around at the rest of you, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she stands before you all—the boys coming back to villa from Casa Amor. You already know what’s coming. You’ve seen the clip—there wasn’t any way that he was coming back alone.
And the worst part? The kiss wasn’t the shock. It was the laugh. The stupid, giggling, flirty banter that followed. That spark in his eyes. Like you’d never existed. Like seven weeks of slow burns and secret kisses and staying up whispering in bed had just vanished the second he had new options and a game card.
The clip hadn’t shown more than a minute or two—that was all that was needed to solidify the way that this was so fluid, everything in here could change in an instant. And that was enough for you to know your fate.
“You’ve chosen to remain single, Y/N,” Maya says, her voice kind and professional as always as her hands rest intertwined against her. “Now it’s time to see if Harry remained loyal to you… or if he’s decided to recouple.”
You brace yourself to hear two voices. The doors open; the girls are leaning their heads and whispering as you stand there and await to see them start to come into the villa. Your eyes stay pressed until you hear the clinking of heels.
“Fuck.”
Then, he appears—Harry. But of course, with Tash—hand in hand. She’s wear a smug little half-smile that can only be described as knowing that she won the fight, she made her way back here. He walks in without even looking around for you, but you can see the way that his face stays stoic and possibly a bit terrified of the reaction he would receive. The girls behind you gasp softly, but you don’t move—you barely breathe as you watch them come in. You just watch it unfold like a stranger watching their own life from across the room.
Harry gives a small smile, but it falters only slightly when he sees you standing there alone, still single.
His brows twitch, confused. Tash doesn’t seem to care. Maya’s voice fills the tense silence around you all as you smile back at her and nod with a silence that makes the loudest noise.
“Harry has decided to recouple,” Maya looks at the couple, “Welcome Tash to the villa,” She looks back at you and gives you a sympathetic look, “That means, Y/N, you are single and vulnerable.”
Hearing the words, Harry flinches—almost like he didn’t know that would be coming but knowing that it hurt him more than he thought it would.
They walk toward the bench across from you. Harry finally looks at you properly, as if just then noticing something’s wrong. You can see it hit him:
She didn’t pick anyone. She was waiting for me.
A few boys bring back girls from the villa—nothing was as unexpected as Harry bringing back Tash, but there were a few surprises. You weren’t the only one left single, Tiana found herself single, as well. You bite on your lip when Maya leaves, telling you all that she would see you later.
The group starts to introduce themselves to one another—there are new boys and girls, you smile politely but keep yourself away from him for a moment before you find the sound of his voice behind you.
“Can we go for a chat?” Harry turns up near you, making your head turn quickly before you take in a deep breath.
“Don’t know what there is to say, but sure.” You give him the cold shoulder before you start walking towards the sofas. You walk ahead of him without speaking, heading to the corner of the terrace, past the fairy lights and villa walls that heard you both whisper, “I’m all in” just last week.
He stands in front of you now, the nerves that were rushing through him were obvious by now, but you wanted to make them worse. You wanted him in pain, to feel the humiliation that you felt.
“Hey,” he starts, soft, almost like he isn’t sure where to go with this. “Look, I know how that must’ve looked—”
You cut him off, shaking your head as you feel the anger boiling to a point of scalding. “How what looked, exactly? Please explain because I’d love to hear you bullshit your way through this one.”
He stares at you for a moment before he takes in a breath. He takes a seat on the sofa before he stares at his hands in his lap.
“Look—this wasn’t to hurt you—"
You cut him off, shaking your head as you stare deeply towards him, “You brought back a girl I watched you kiss—I saw all of it, Harry. You kissed her on day one, you couldn’t keep it respectful in the slightest.”
His lips part slightly before he shakes his head, a subtle pathetic laugh escapes him. “You… It looks bad, but we agreed we weren’t closed off, so--”
“Yeah, fuck you. You knew what was respectful—we’ve been together since day one, Harry. And it took one blonde bitch to ruin this and make me look like an idiot standing there and thinking you’d wait. You think that wouldn’t have hurt my feelings? And if I hadn’t seen it, would I have been told that happened or no?”
He winces at that, almost like that could have hurt him more than he hurt you.
You press forward, sitting upwards as you shake your head at him. “Out of all of the conversations we’ve had, I want you to explore, be respectful. And you said, ‘Course I will, babe, course I will.’ Do you even remember saying that?”
“I do,” he says, tone dropping as he tries to manage in more words, but knows that he’s contradicting everything he’s said. “But it was just a kiss—I just brought her back to explore that connection but that doesn’t dissolve what we have, Y/N.”
“Oh, don’t,” you say, turning almost away as you laugh a solidly angry laugh. “Don’t pull that card. The kiss, I could’ve handled. It was the laugh after, the smug look in your eyes. The way you giggled with her like I was a joke. Like I was nothing. It was just foul play to you, and I’m not here to play that—I think we’re done.”
Harry’s face contorts to more confusion before he shakes his head, almost confused that you would end it like that. “It wasn’t like that—”
“You’re naughty, bit of trouble, aren’t you?” You mock his words and accent to Tash in the Hideaway before you feel yourself starting to feel more and more angry, less and less hurt, but sincerely disappointed.
He exhales like he hasn’t taken a solid breath in weeks. “I didn’t know where we stood—I didn’t know if you would have someone. Am I supposed to think you wouldn’t keep someone here?”
“We stood strong,” you say, voice breaking now. “We were solid. You just didn’t want to admit you cracked—and you’re missing the entire point.”
He swallows hard. “I panicked—I didn’t—”
You laugh at those words — hollow and sharp with almost no feeling anymore. You watch his face, the way that his eyebrows crease, like he’s disappointed in himself, as he should be.
“So instead of trusting what we had, you panicked and kissed someone else? That’s not loyalty. That’s cowardice. You picked her, Harry. You disrespected this relationship, me, yourself—your hers now, and she can have you.” You move to stand with your cup in your hand as your ponytail swishes and you try your best to keep your emotions from turning into tears.
He’s silent; you know that he doesn’t have any excuse.
“I know I messed up,” he mutters, staring down at his hands that house the almost empty cup of wine that he knew he needed. “I didn’t handle it right.”
You shake your head, watching him straight up as you turn on your heels. “No, you didn’t. And what hurts the most is that I stood by you. I chose you every single day in that villa. And you made me look like a moron.”
He goes to stand and starts to walk with you as you want to get away from him as far as possible. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“But you did, Harry!” you turn towards him again, quickly with a bit of whiplash, “You let go first. I was holding on with both hands.”
There’s a pause. His throat bobs before he lifts a shoulder, and shakes his head.
“I regret it,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t have brought her back—you’re right, I screwed up.”
You stare at him, eyes glassy—you can’t cry, not now. Not in front of him, that would admit defeat. You’re standing on the ground, standing on what you believe before you throw away his words.
“You don’t get to regret it now that it’s real because you know that I’m single,” you say. “You don’t get to come crawling back just because you feel guilty all of the sudden. You didn’t think of me, period.”
Your eyes linger on him for a moment before you turn towards the girls, leaving him walking towards the boys, his head down in shame.
{NARRATOR}
Whew. Looks like Harry’s brought more than just Tash back from Casa Amor… he’s brought a storm. If only he could have forecasted bringing another woman back to his couple would have stirred up thunder!
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Series Summary: Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.
Note: Harry is mean/uncouth in this, though things do get better. He doesn't treat anyone around him with much respect at all. Expect to not like him much at first. Also, this is set in the 1800s England, and while not completely historically accurate, I did my best to keep it as accurate as possible.
Ch. 6 Word Count: 11,631
Ch. 6 Warning: smut, y/n loses her virginity, brief uncertainty and hesitation
. .
The king’s chambers were safe and inviting, unlike the rest of the castle. Or maybe it was just the way he'd kissed her. Lips soft and tender against hers, like he knew she was nervous. He cradled the back of her head, then slowly drew away, his nose brushing the side of hers.
Gone was the cold austerity of stone corridors and hateful gazes. In its place: warmth and hush. A low fire glowed in the hearth, casting flickering light across the dark wood walls and silk-draped furniture. The scent of rose oil and sweet wine hung faintly in the air, evidence of the staff’s discreet, meticulous preparation. A silver tray waited near the bed with fresh fruit, warm bread, and honey, with a decanter of brandy just beside it. Even the bed had been dressed more carefully than usual with new linens, a scattering of flower petals, and a thick velvet coverlet turned down in invitation.
Y/n stood clinging to the king, the heat of the chamber finally thawing the cold that had settled in her bones. The silk bodice of her gown still pinched her ribs, every shallow breath reminding her this was real. Her veil was gone, entrusted to Pheobe, but the pins remained, biting at her scalp like tiny teeth. She tried to steady her hands against the dark fabric of Harry’s frock coat, but they wouldn’t stop shaking.
They stared at each other… long enough that the fire popped behind them, long enough that she felt her pulse hammer against her throat. He looked as dazed as she felt, lips parted, eyes searching hers.
“You look scared,” he said softly, his brows knitting as he studied her face.
Y/n swallowed. “I suppose I am.”
He placed a gentle hand on her cheek. His eyes were shadowed, impossible to read, but there was warmth there too.
“You don’t have to be.”
She couldn't put it into words the way she truly felt. Every emotion inside of her clashed, unwieldy. She didn't want to be scared but it wasn't a matter of choice. She'd been crowned queen consort over a kingdom of people who despised her. And tonight, she would become a wife in every sense, whether she felt ready or not.
He slid his thumb over her cheekbone, his gaze dropping to her mouth, then lower. “The doctor wanted to have you inspected.”
She tensed.
“I said no,” he added quickly. "They wanted to be certain that you are a virgin. But that never held any importance with me."
Her eyes darted up to his. It didn't?
“I won’t have you touched by anyone unless you want to be,” he said. “And no one will be checking the bedsheets. If anyone asks, I’ll say it was done and they missed it.”
A strange relief gripped her chest. He could've been ruthless, brutal even, she’d seen it in court, heard it in the rumors, but with her, he spoke gently. Protective. Possessive, too, but in a way that made her pulse stir, not cower.
He leaned closer. “You’re mine to protect,” he said, voice quiet but certain. “But I’ll never take what isn’t given. Not from you.”
"I am a virgin. I know there are some who don't believe it, but I swear I am."
He nodded. "I know you are. You told me you were, and I believe you. Even if you were not, it wouldn't have stopped me from taking you as my wife."
She blinked at him. "How can you say that? Don't men want their wives to be virgins on their wedding night?"
He smiled. "Most do. But I, myself, am not a virgin. Would you have expected it of me?"
She shook her head. "No."
“Because in the end, it’s nothing compared to trust. Compared to respect.”
Casting her gaze toward the fire, she bit her lip and began to walk to it, holding her fingers toward the warmth. "Do you have respect for me?"
She felt his hands on the tops of her shoulders, and she turned her head to look up at him, his eyes on the flames in the hearth. "Yes."
"But you did not on the first night we met. You were awful. You frightened me."
He looked down at her, his hard expression softening. "I know. I am deeply sorry for how I treated you that night and the days after that."
She turned to look up at him directly, feeling as if she could speak freely. "Why? Why were you so harsh with me?"
"It's because I had the wrong impression. I've been accustomed to the ways of the kingdom and its people. It wasn't fair of me to judge you in the way I did without making your acquaintance first. It was wrong of me."
"What was your impression of me?"
He stepped back, eyes flicking over her. "On first glance, you seemed hollow-hearted like the rest. And I thought it was possible you were one of the girls who worked at the trap house—"
"You thought I was a prostitute. Is that why Mrs. Mable accused me of being a flag-hopper? Is this what everyone thinks of me?"
He blinked and shook his head. "I don't know what the others think of you, but what they think doesn't matter anyway. What matters is that you are far more interesting and smarter than the whole lot of them. You're better."
"If you thought I was so dull and unchaste, why did you pick me out of everyone?"
“Because you were beautiful, and at the time, I thought unchaste was what I wanted. And I knew it would scandalize everyone when they learned I’d chosen you. It meant almost nothing then. But it means something now. I hope you can see that.”
She stepped away from the hearth, her gaze drifting over the room without really seeing it. Should she feel hurt? She didn’t know. “So that night, when you summoned me… you thought I’d come willing. You thought I'd engage in licentious acts with you as you imagined I was accustomed to."
"Yes. I'd hoped for that. But I was wrong."
She looked at him, her fingers trailing over the table near the tray of fruit. "You were wrong. You treated me as if I were worthless refuse. And maybe in a way I am… I'm from the slums. A beggar with a sharp, unquenchable hunger deep down. No matter how much I eat, it never seems to go away. I always will be that girl. It's where I came from."
He did not answer at once. He understood her anger. He deserved it. He had treated her cruelly, and though his feelings had shifted entirely, he knew she still thought herself only the poor girl from the rookery. He watched as she drifted across the chamber, her gown trailing behind her in soft ripples, until she reached the balcony doors and slipped outside.
He had dreaded this reckoning, though he knew it was inevitable. Soon, she would demand more answers, for her spirit grew bolder each day. What he had not wished to confess was that, at first, he had taken her for nothing more than a common harlot with a fair countenance, someone whose elevation would scandalise the realm. That was all he required then: a face to stir gossip and a womb to bear his heir.
But he had discovered soon enough that Y/n possessed a depth he had not conceived. He regretted every careless slight, every cruel word. All he could do now was show her, in deed and word, that she had altered him and that he would never again fail her trust.
From behind, he admired the shape of her gown, the soft layers shifting as the wind blew against the material. He slowly made his way to stand behind her, placing his hands lightly upon her upper arms. Together they stood, gazing across Thornekeep’s moonlit walls. Beyond the gates, a small crowd lingered, their figures black against the lantern glow.
"You will never demean me so again. I would sooner fling myself from this wall than endure such foul words. I have dignity, and I will not remain the wife of a man who holds me in contempt, be he a king or no.”
He dipped his face close to the back of her hair, his breath warm at the nape of her neck. “I swear to you, I shall never again mistreat you, my queen. I behaved most shamefully, and I shall regret it all my days.”
She savoured the weight of his hands, the low heat of his voice at her ear, the faint trace of sandalwood upon his skin. In that moment, she believed him. She had watched him change… so swiftly it seemed near impossible. Once a brute she had feared, he was now gentle, almost tender. Still a devil, perhaps—but one she could almost trust. And if his kindness endured, she might even learn to yield her heart to him.
The night air bit cold through her lace sleeves, but his nearness set a warmth stirring low in her belly. She drew breath with difficulty, each inhalation a slow, shuddering thing. He always affected her so. His presence like a weight upon her senses. And now that her questions had been laid bare, she was ready to fulfil what was expected of her.
Y/n turned to face him, her palms gliding up his shoulders, down the breadth of his arms. “I am ready. Shall I summon Phoebe to unlace my gown?”
He cocked his head studying her with a look that mingled concern and a faint amusement. “There is no cause to hurry, mouse. We have until tomorrow evening before either of us is expected to emerge. If you wish to shed some of these layers, I am more than capable of unfastening your stays.”
“Are you not eager to have me in your bed? I had not thought you capable of such restraint.”
“I am quite beside myself to have you, my dear. But I suspect you will find more comfort in my restraint than you will from my eager desires," he said, gently turning her to face the balustrade. "You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this night with you…" His fingers moved deftly along the ties of her bodice, slowly loosening each notch as he went up. "As anxious as I am to feel myself within your quim," his voice came warm over the back of her neck, making her close her eyes as he loosened her from her gown. “As much as I long to bury myself within you,” his voice drifted warm against her nape, making her breath catch, “I would rather you discover each sensation at your own pace.”
She looked upward to the starlit sky above. His words soothed the last of her dread. She had feared the pain of consummation must come at once, that she would have no moment to steel herself. But with each loosened loop and each quiet breath at her neck, her heart drew tight within her chest. Most bewildering of all was how the sliding fabric over her breasts and hips sent a shiver of pleasure low through her belly.
She reminded herself that such pleasure was no sin. That the carnal imaginings which visited her in the quiet hours were permitted now, even expected. She had tried, in small secret experiments, to prepare herself… slipping a hesitant finger within, but it had stirred little in her. No doubt the big nob that hung from him would prove far more demanding. The thought made her cheeks burn hot.
At last, her bodice slipped free, leaving only her chemise and skirts about her hips. His warm hands slid to her waist. He leaned closer, his breath ruffling her hair. “Shall we return indoors? I cannot trust that some watchful eye is not trained upon us this very instant.”
She folded her arms over her chest and nodded, turning toward him. "Yes."
It was far simpler to slip the heavy satin skirt from her hips than it had been to unfasten the bodice. Left in her chemise, while he wore only his linen shirt and breeches, they settled together upon the divan. A bowl of grapes rested on the carpet at their feet, and the fire glowed bright in the grate. She traced her fingertips across the velvet upholstery, striving to maintain her composure, though he sat perilously near, one arm stretched along the back of the seat as he watched the flames."How has your reading been going?"
Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She knew precisely what he meant, the scandalous tales. Only a handful of volumes dared offer the frank, wicked detail she secretly favoured, though she would never confess it aloud. The rest of the books danced around the truth of what was being written with flowery prose and reserved detail.
"Fine, I suppose."
“Merely fine? That does not strike me as a cause for much excitement. Be truthful with me, mouse. Have your readings not stirred a certain… awakening?” He traced a finger along the nape of her neck, gaze intent upon her profile.
An awakening… Well, yes, they had. She blinked her eyes slowly and gulped to wet her dry throat as she kept her gaze fixed on the flames. "A time or two."
His thumb drew gently up the side of her throat when she felt his plush lips graze her jaw. "Only a time or two? And how did it feel?"
She felt his words scatter across her skin and melt down to her neck as he kissed a slow path toward the underside of her chin. She tilted her head, granting him better access as a breathy gasp wobbled from her mouth. How was she to answer such a question when he was kissing her like that?
"It… It was… ahhh!"
He grinned at how swiftly she yielded to his touch. He had scarcely reached the place he knew would undo her entirely."Oh? Did it please you? Did you find your release?”
Her breathing faltered, chest rising as if the stays were still fastened to her ribs. She turned her face to look at him, lips parted, eyes heavy with confusion and longing.
“I… It…” she whispered, her voice soft. “It felt best when you did it.”
Harry's eyes softened, his hand settling over hers on her lap, thumb stroking the bones of her knuckles. “I see,” he said. He had not expected such candour. In fact, he could almost swear that was an invitation from her.
He leaned in again, that time placing a kiss just beside her mouth. A silent question to her subtle invitation.
She turned her body to face him fully, her hands rising to his chest, fingers brushing the edge of his collar as though daring herself to continue. She wanted more of that kiss. Wanted to feel the ache and the need kindling between them again.
He sat still as she shifted, her pretty eyes steady on his, palm sliding upward against the linen over his chest. Her lips were parted as she angled her face toward his, silently beseeching.
And then, to his quiet astonishment, she quickly moved into him, her lips brushing his with a tentative and curious peck. He hummed low in his throat as he responded, pressing more firmly into her mouth, drawing her deeper with every pass of his lips.
When she sighed into the kiss, he took it as permission, slipping a hand to the curve of her waist, guiding her closer. Her thigh brushed his, and he felt the hitch in her breath at the contact.
“You needn’t be afraid,” he whispered, brushing his nose against hers as he broke the kiss only long enough to see her eyes. “We shall take our time.”
“I do not fear the kiss,” she whispered. “Only what must follow after.”
He smiled. “We shall come to that only when you're ready. And when the moment arrives, I promise you shall find it as gentle and as sweet as you desire.”
He kissed her again, more deeply that time. His hand slipped behind her, tracing the gentle arch of her back, coaxing her to lean into him. And she did, cautiously at first, until her chest pressed to his, and her hands clutched his arms for balance.
She could feel the heat of him through her thin chemise, the strength of him, solid and broad, yet tempered by an unexpected tenderness. His touch remained patient, adoring, but each movement was deliberate, charting the shape of her, as though he meant to memorize every inch.
She startled a little when his palm swept over her hip and down to the back of her thigh. He paused, pulling back just enough to look her over. He needed to calm himself before he wound up devouring every inch of her like he wanted, the urge to overtake his reason.. Looking at her face, he saw only a beautiful woman, clinging to him, wanting… But he had to keep gentle with her. For now.
“Is this too much?”
She shook her head quickly. “No. I'm trying to settle myself.”
“Shall we stop?”
“No,” she whispered, her cheeks blooming with heat. “Please don’t stop.”
His eyes darkened, and he leaned in again, placing a kiss beneath her ear. “As you wish.”
He had envisioned the most wanton imaginings of her earlier that day. Had taken himself in hand, stroking with slow, deliberate intent to the thought of her spread across his velvet coverlet, her hips arching in desperate supplication as he tormented her with his touch. He had spilled the moment he pictured himself buried within her. Even now, he could scarcely fathom how she might feel… soft and wet and impossibly tight around him.
With great care, he guided her onto her back along the divan, the velvet cushions yielding beneath her. He followed, half atop her, propped on one elbow so as not to press his full weight against her. His other hand drifted slowly along the line of her hip, then upward, tracing the side of her ribcage through the soft fabric of her shift.
She arched faintly beneath him, startled by her body’s yearning. It was automatic. His mouth never left her skin. He kissed the slope of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the edge of her collarbone as she moaned quietly.
Her fingers found their way into his curls, tugging gently as he grazed the peak of her breast with the back of his hand. Even that small contact had her gasping, her legs shifting restlessly beneath her.
“Already trembling,” he said, his breath jagged. “You are so sensitive, little mouse."
“I feel it,” she whispered. “It's...” she trailed off, unable to finish any thoughts she had conjured.
He chuckled low against her chest, his nose brushing the thin fabric stretched over her breast. “It is natural to feel it. You are so good… perfect," his words were mumbled against the material. "I, too, feel it. It's in my bones…" He dotted kisses softly over her chemise. "… it's in my chest. And we’ve scarcely begun.”
He brought his mouth upward to hers again, his tongue brushing her lips in a way that made her back arch and her thighs clench beneath her clothing. She slowly parted her lips, her tongue meeting his in a shy, searching stroke. A low moan trembled between them.
Between the steady flicker of firelight and the warmth of his hands, Y/n could no longer recall what fear had once lived in her. He made her forget everything but his breath, his touch, the way his voice dropped when he praised her.
She could feel the hard ridge of him against her hip, unmistakable even through layers of linen and cotton. The knowledge of it sent a hot dizziness through her.
“Allow me to unlace this,” he said, tugging gently at the top of her chemise. “You are far too beautiful to be hidden behind cloth.”
She nodded, raising her arms to aid him. He had sworn he would be patient, that he would not rush her, but she was so pliant already. The soft panting of her breaths, the little gasps, the way she threaded her fingers into his hair and kissed him with shy fervour…the way she lifted her hips to meet him. All invitations.
And when the garment came loose, baring her to the warm air and his hungry gaze, the king did not seize her as some men might have, greedy and rough. He merely looked. Admired. Swallowed hard as if astonished.
He longed to touch her. Wanted to grab her flesh and squeeze at every inch of her that was laid before him. Wanted to dig his fingers into her hips and breasts and spread her thighs open so he could look upon all of her.
“God help me,” he said softly, his voice nearly breaking. “You’re exquisite.”
He was not a man given to faith. But right then, he could kneel in surrender to any deity who had brought her to him. He wanted to nose at her opening, to pry her apart and watch her face as he plunged into her depths.
She reached for him then, bolder than she’d ever been before, and pulled him down into her embrace, and perhaps for a break in the way his eyes were wandering over her peaked breasts and the stretch of her body where his fingers had once touched. She'd never been gazed upon like that before.
His mouth met hers again, slow and indulgent. He kissed her not as a king, but as a starving man at last allowed to feast. Her arms wrapped round his neck, drawing him nearer as his hand roamed down the soft plane of her side, over the tender rise of her hip. His palm, wide and warm, settled low, gripping just above her bottom as he deepened their kiss. She whimpered into his mouth, fingers slipping into his curls again, pulling at them with a desperation she scarcely understood.
Harry shifted atop her, careful not to rest too heavily on her frame, but eager for more of her body pressed against his. Her bare breasts, rising and falling in uneven rhythm, brushed against the linen of his shirt. The sensation tore another moan from her throat.
“There now,” he said between kisses. “D’you feel it, little mouse? What you’ve done to me?”
He took her hand and guided it downward, resting her palm over the thick, straining shape beneath his breeches. She gasped softly, her eyes wide, her breath caught in her throat.
He closed his hand over hers, encouraging her to press gently.
“That is what your sighs have made of me,” he whispered. “A beast of a man, barely leashed.”
Her skin burned hot. Still, she did not pull her hand away as she looked into his eyes.
“It feels so…” she trailed off, lashes fluttering as she dared another tentative touch.
“So alive?” he offered, his voice dark with pleasure.
She nodded, lips parted. “Yes.”
He smiled, then kissed her again, hungrier, less restrained. His hands returned to her body, roaming more freely. He cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over the pebbled peak, drawing a startled sound from her mouth. Her hips lifted slightly off the divan in response, instinctive and needy.
“May I touch you lower?” he asked against her neck, his breath scorching. “Properly?”
She hesitated, not out of fear, but from sheer wonder at the question. That he would ask at all. That he would wait. That a man known to be cruel in court would kiss her so sweetly and speak to her as though she were sacred.
“Yes,” she said, her voice small but clear. “Please.”
His fingers dipped downward, over the warm skin of her abdomen. She squirmed at the sensation, but he hushed her with a kiss to her cheek, trailing his mouth to her temple, her hairline, her ear.
When his hand finally slipped between her thighs, she gasped, her knees parting slightly of their own accord. He grazed her lightly at first with just a brush of knuckles over the soft curls between her legs.
“You’re already damp for me,” he whispered, sounding almost pained. “Oh, my love…”
Her heart was nearly bursting. She arched into him at the sound of that word.
Love.
Whether he meant it or not, it echoed through her like the strike of a bell.
He began to stroke her slowly with the flat of his fingers, spreading her slickness in languid circles without yet delving deeper. Her hips writhed beneath him, her hands twisting in his shirt as he coaxed her body into revelation.
“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing her chin as his fingers circled her pearl with careful attention. “Let yourself feel it, little mouse. There’s no shame in pleasure.”
The sounds she made startled even her… soft, broken cries she’d never known herself capable of. Her legs trembled, and he caught her with his free arm, holding her tightly as he continued to play her like a cherished instrument.
She felt how wet his fingers were as he slid them slowly, teasingly against her. She needed more, needed it desperately if she were to find any relief. But it seemed he had no intention of granting it. Not yet.
He smoothed his lips over hers, and the whole of the sensation was consuming every bit of her body and soul. She was brought to the brink, and then he moved his fingers down… over and over again as he kissed her until she could hear the wet, sinful sounds of her own arousal between them.
Even Harry felt himself nearing the edge, though she had scarcely touched him. Her fingers were still wrapped tightly over him, and the confining barrier of his breeches had begun to grate on his control. He pushed a heavy breath out through his nose when he felt her palm press firmly into him, tugging in a timid experiment.
And, at first, it had been an accident when he eased one thick finger into her. It was just barely, only to the first knuckle, causing her to gasp so sharply he kissed her again to steal the sound, stilling his digit inside of her. But then she shifted down against his fingers, pushing him deeper, to the second knuckle, until he was buried to the last joint and her ragged breaths dissolved into soft, helpless mewls.
Her walls fluttered around his finger, so tight and warm that it nearly undid him. But he held fast, working slowly, watching every flicker of her expression. He drew out and then in again, coaxing her body to relax.
“It feels—oh,” she cried softly, legs tightening around his hips.
“I know,” he breathed, as he watched her pretty face. “I know, darling. I can tell you like that.”
He found her pearl again with his thumb while his finger worked within her, and her whole body tensed, then softened around him. She did like that. He could see it in the way her hips began to roll into his palm, her breaths syncing to the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. Loosening his hold, he drew back just enough to look down and savour the sight of his new wife undone beneath him.
The room could have collapsed on him and he would not have stopped. Her hips were swaying in restless pleasure, her soft breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath, her mouth dropped open wide as her eyes glistened… and her cunt, sucking his finger in and in, making his hand gleam with her slippery, greedy need. He would stay like that with her for eternity if she wanted. Even if his cock was throbbing painfully.
"Mmm…" she whimpered, her eyes blinking up into his. "It's wet. Right here…" She slid her thumb along the head of his length, where he'd dampened the linen through his breeches.
"Yes. You've aroused me, little mouse. It means you're making me feel good. Your hand on me…"
She inhaled a harsh breath as he curled his fingers into her, dragging his pads into something that made her insides swell. "It's good?"
He smiled and pushed his nose into her cheek. "Very good."
The soaked sound of his finger pushing in and dragging out met with the crackle of the fire in the hearth, and their strained breaths and moans. His gaze drank in every detail of her, undone beneath him. She was more than ripe for him… but still… he wanted to see her writhing, begging for him to sink inside before he defiled her completely.
He closed his eyes, letting himself savor it: the feel of her, the scent of her skin, the soft, unguarded sounds she made. It was a dream, having her like this, and he felt certain that the moment he buried himself inside her, he might not survive it. For all his strength, his heart was sure to give out. But he would die happy.
Opening his eyes again, he slid his finger out, and she quickly grabbed onto his shoulder, her lips drawing downward into a sulk. "Harry…"
A low moan tore from him when she spoke his name. She so rarely said it that hearing it now was dizzying. "Oh, little mouse…" he cooed at her, changing the position of his hand, two fingertips circling at her little tight muscle as he looked down at her. "Do you need more?"
She nodded in haste. "More. Please."
"How about two fingers?"
She continued nodding as she glanced down at his hand, hovering just over her thighs in wait. "Yes."
Harry smiled and slowly eased two of his fingers into her. She gasped, her eyes widening with the new fullness. He began to thrust, unhurried, and she moaned, rolling her pelvis upward into his hand. Watching her face closely, ensuring her pleasure, he drew her hand from his shoulder and brought it downward to that tender place he had been stroking. She shivered as he guided her hand to where he had been touching her, where she was slick and tender and pulsing beneath her own hand.
“Feel that,” he said, his voice ragged. “How soft you are… how ready.”
He nudged his fingers inside of her gently as he steered her fingers. Her breath stuttered as she pressed down gently, her fingers slipping over the little pearl that throbbed with every heartbeat. Her thighs tried to close, but he nudged them apart again, kissing her shoulder.
“Take it easy,” he whispered. “Does it feel nice?”
She nodded, unable to find words, her mouth open in a soundless gasp as she watched his face intently. But “nice” was not the word for it. It was so much more. More than she had ever imagined. Better.
He watched her touch herself, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling, and he knew he would never recover from the sight. But he couldn’t resist adding his own touch, his hand sliding to cover hers, pressing just a little firmer, coaxing a broken cry from her throat as he continued working his other fingers as deeply as she could take.
He didn't rush her. Even as he looked upon her laid bare, perfect and lovely in the firelight, he held her gaze and waited. Anyone watching have thought him a man of infinite patience, given he'd restrained himself from taking her how he wanted over the last month, but truth was, it cost him nearly every ounce of strength not to lay her flat and take her wholly just then.
For the king, this was also a new experience. Her virginity would be his, and it would be the first time he'd ever taken such a thing, from anyone. It had never appealed to him to have to teach and guide a lover during such a delicate moment. To make sure she was happy and that her body was relaxed and receptive.
Yet he found himself rather enjoying this slow, tender exploration. His patience was tested to its limits, but there was no other way. Y/n needed time to open up properly, so, time he would give her, even though every aching inch of him rebelled against such restraint.
When at last she moved her hand from herself and pulled him down to kiss him, he made a soft sound of gratitude in the back of his throat. He let her lead for a time—her sweet, tentative mouth against his, her hands exploring the breadth of his back, the shape of his arms. He could feel the damp trace of her arousal upon her fingertips as they brushed his skin.
Cupping her breast again, he rasped his thumb gently over the sensitive peak, and she gasped, her hips shifting upward toward him, as if she needed more than just his two fingers dragging through her insides.
“You must tell me if anything displeases you,” he murmured against her cheek, voice husky. “I mean to learn every inch of you, but not at the cost of your peace.”
“It does not displease me,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice. “I can hardly find the words to tell you how I enjoy it.”
He smiled faintly. “That is no ill thing, little mouse. You're so good.”
Slowly, he pulled his fingers from her and trailed his hand down the length of her belly, smearing a glistening trace along the path. She bucked as his fingers grazed the softness between her thighs. He kissed her again to soothe her, then slipped lower, brushing her slit with two fingers. She was so soft and yielding. He nearly lost himself at the feel of it, at the sight.
“Shall I taste you?” he asked, voice scarcely more than a ragged breath.
Her lashes fluttered, her lips parting as she swallowed hard. “If…if you desire it…”
He laughed softly. “I do more than wish it.”
He slipped down to his knees beside the divan, urging her to shift her hips closer to the edge. She felt nearly too shy to look down at him, but when she dared, her heart tripped at the sight… her husband, the King of Thornekeep, bowing as though to worship.
He kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh, his hands firm on her hips to keep her from shying away. When he parted her folds with careful fingers and pressed his mouth to her, she cried out in shock, her hand flying to his hair.
“Oh—oh God—”
“Mmm,” he moaned against her.
His tongue traced her with slow, deliberate sweeps, tasting her as though he might starve without it. He relished every sound she made, every broken gasp, every elated cry.
When he closed his lips around her tender pearl and suckled, she jolted so violently he had to press a hand to her belly to steady her. Her thighs trembled as her spine arched off the divan. It was nothing like she'd felt before. Fingers rubbing her little nub were one thing but his lips and his tongue gliding softly, teasing at her and then sucking… For one bewildered instant, she wondered whether such bliss could be sanctioned by God, or was it a wicked, sinful act.
“Harry—oh—oh, I—” she pushed softly at his head, and he lifted upward to look at her, resting his chin on her thigh.
“What is it, mouse?” he asked softly.
"It feels too good. I'm not sure this is right—"
"It's meant to feel good."
"But is it… improper? We haven't consummated the marriage yet, and I'm worried we're in sin."
Harry tugged her fingers into his, squeezing around her knuckles as he climbed back up to the cushion with her. "You and I are husband and wife. We may enjoy one another in whatever way we like. There is no sin here, Y/n. Just me and you together."
She swallowed and nodded, though uncertainty lingered in her gaze. “It feels so…more exquisite than anything I have ever known. I cannot believe something so indulgent bears no consequence.”
"I'm sad that someone taught you that pleasure is akin to wickedness. We are meant to enjoy each other. It is our wedding night."
She moved her palm up to his shoulder. "You should have me then. So we can consummate the marriage first. Is that not what we're really meant to be doing?"
He spread his lips against her cheek tenderly. "Oh, Y/n. We will get to that when it's time. It is important we have patience, so that you find joy in it.”
He kissed her again, lingering near the corner of her mouth. “You are in no danger of judgment here. No priest, no scripture, no God who loves you would condemn the sweetness of a husband tending to his wife.”
Her eyes searched his face, uncertain. “But—”
“No.” He shook his head slowly. “Listen to me.” One of his hands came up to cradle her jaw. “You were made to be cherished. To be touched. To be pleasured. If you believe God made you, then you must believe he made all this softness, all this sweetness, too.”
Her chest rose and fell, breath catching. It felt too good to be innocent, and yet, the king's words calmed her racing thoughts.
“Let me show you,” he murmured, pressing a last kiss to her lips before sliding down again.
This time, she did not look away and she did not deny herself his gifts.
He settled between her thighs, hands gentle but insistent as he urged them further apart. She felt a shiver run the length of her spine when he kissed the delicate place above her mound, then lower, his mouth warm and wet.
He licked her slowly, unhurried, savoring her. His tongue pressed and circled and tasted her with aching devotion. A whimper rose in her throat, and she felt her hips tipping toward him, all her careful modesty dissolving.
“There,” he breathed between strokes, voice husky and warm. “That’s it… You see? No sin. Only your body caught in desire… perfect and good.”
Her fingers threaded into his hair again, but this time she did not push him away. She held him there, trembling as his mouth coaxed more of those helpless little sounds from her.
“Harry…oh…”
He hummed softly in answer, the vibration sparking heat that coiled deep inside her belly. He parted her gently with his tongue and closed his lips around that tender little bud again, suckling with steady, delicate pulls.
Her breath fractured. She clutched at his shoulders, eyes squeezing shut as she gasped. Her body gave way to him, and to herself.
He kept her pinned sweetly beneath his mouth, kept coaxing her higher, higher, until the last of her fear slipped away. Until the only thing she could feel was the pleasure cresting in a rising wave she could not have denied if she tried.
When she came apart, crying his name, he held her steady. Her breath came in ragged sobs. Her body clenched, and he nearly spilled himself just from the sounds she made.
When she sagged back at last, dazed and spent, he kissed her thigh one final time and drew himself up over her. She looked up at him, her eyes luminous and soft with wonder, her lips parted.
“I did not know…” She paused, struggling for air. “I did not know it could feel so…so…”
He kissed her softly. “It pleases me you enjoyed yourself.”
He shifted to sit beside her, his breeches tight to the point of agony. She reached out, hesitant, then laid her hand over the hard ridge straining against the laces.
“I would like…to do something for you,” she said, her voice wavering but earnest.
“Ah.” He swallowed hard. “You’ve no notion how dearly I desire that.”
She sat up on her knees, fingers trembling as she worked the fastenings. His cock sprang free, flushed and thick, the tip glistening. She drew in a startled breath as he drank in the sight of her naked and kneeling.
“It's quite large. I'd forgotten…” she said faintly. The memory of what she'd seen on the first night was distorted. She recalled only the tumult of feeling, but seeing him now, the sheer size of him was formidable.
He laughed then, a rough, quiet laugh. “Aye. But you shall have time to grow accustomed.”
He guided her hand to him, wrapping her fingers around the base. “Just here,” he said. “Slow strokes… That’s it.”
She moved carefully at first, watching his face. His eyes fell shut, a low groan rumbling in his chest.
“Spit on it,” he rasped, voice nearly gone. “Easier for you and better for me.”
Her face warmed, but she obeyed, her tongue peeking between her lips before she gathered her courage and let a small line of spit fall onto the crown. He shuddered, his hand covering hers again.
“That’s it, so sweet,” he breathed. “Ah—God, you are…you’ve no notion…”
When she grew bolder, sliding her palm up and down the rigid length, he dropped his head back against the cushion, breathing raggedly.
“You may lick it if you wish,” he managed, craning his neck to watch. He would ease her into learning how to suck on him, but for now, just to have her tongue against him would tide him over.
She leaned forward, her lips brushing just beneath the tip before she thought better of it, her courage failing. He looked down, his expression soft with amusement at the attempt. She was precious.
“No,” he said, lifting her chin. “You needn't do that tonight. Another time perhaps.”
She swallowed and gathered her courage again, her hand gliding up and down the thick length, the side of her fist grazing the hair at the root of him. Each stroke grew surer, slicker with her spit and the warmth seeping from him at the tip.
He closed his eyes, lashes shadowing his cheeks. “Yes…just like that,” he panted, voice hoarse. “Ah… You are…Christ, you are a marvel…”
She watched in fascination as his chest rose and fell, every muscle taut beneath the fine white shirt he had not bothered to remove. His hips shifted subtly, seeking more friction.
“Is it…very good?” she asked, breathless, astounded.
His eyes opened then, dark and heavy-lidded. “Very good, little mouse. You cannot fathom what it is to feel your hand on me.”
Her cheeks flamed at that, but she did not stop. She tried a firmer stroke, and he groaned deep in his throat, his abdomen tightening as though he fought to restrain himself.
“God above,” he rasped. “Sweet wife—if you keep on in such a fashion—”
He did not finish the warning. His breath turned ragged, one hand clutching her wrist as though to steady himself.
She looked down at her hand moving over him, at the flushed crown peeking from her curled fingers. A drop of pearly fluid welled there, smearing over her knuckles. Her heart thumped madly, part embarrassment, part something far stranger… an unnameable thrill that he trusted her with this, that she could undo him with only her touch.
“Do not stop,” he gasped, voice breaking. “Oh, God, do not—”
And she did not. She watched, transfixed, as his body shuddered beneath her hand. A low groan tore free of his chest, and his hips lifted once, twice… and then he spent himself, hot and thick over her fingers and the flat of his stomach.
She stilled, blinking down at the evidence of what she had done. Her palm felt slippery, and she could see the way he still pulsed softly against her grip as she slowed down the way her hand moved over him.
A curious wonder stole through her, mingled with a shy pride. She had never imagined such a sight, nor that she would be the cause of it. She'd never seen him like that before, but she quite liked it, she decided.
He reached to curl his hand around her wrist, gently drawing her away. His chest still heaved, a dazed smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“My love,” he managed at last, voice warm and ragged, “you have undone me entirely.”
She glanced down again, unable to help herself, her lips parting in astonishment. “I had not known…that it would look so…so much...”
He laughed then, soft and unguarded, even as he caught her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her damp fingers. “Forgive me. You might have found I am quite helpless where you are concerned.”
Her throat bobbed on a swallow. “I do not mind. I…rather like that you should be.”
They both stilled. The only sound was the fire snapping in the hearth.
“I shall see to this,” he said hoarsely, reaching for a kerchief to clean them both.
Once they were made tidy, he drew her into his lap, her bare thighs straddling his. He poured them each a small brandy and pressed the glass into her hand. She sipped, feeling the warmth spread down her throat to join the heat still coiled low in her belly. He watched her over the rim of his cup, a knowing glint in his eyes.
“You look thoughtful,” he said.
She lowered her gaze to the cup in her hands. “I was only considering how strange it is that one may feel so much and still be found well in the eyes of God.”
He chuckled, low and fond. “Aye, that is the wonder of it. Pleasure does not kill us, and neither will God.”
Her lips curved shyly. “You are very certain.”
“I am a man of some experience,” he admitted, one brow lifting in a silent dare for her to tease him. But she did not. She only traced the edge of her glass with a pensive fingertip.
“It did not hurt you?” she asked quietly, curiously.
He looked surprised, then softened, setting his cup aside so he could brush his knuckles down her cheek. “No, sweet. Far from it. You could do the same every night, and I would never grow weary of you.”
Her face warmed again, but she did not look away. “And now? Do you feel well enough to… to continue?”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Greedy little thing.”
She bit her lip, half-ashamed of the way her body still ached to be touched. The way she wanted more.
He tipped her chin up, meeting her gaze with a softness that made her chest flutter. “I am well enough. But let us take a moment to rest. There is no race to be run here.”
She nodded, exhaling softly. His hands drifted down to her hips, thumbs stroking the tender skin. “If you are patient, I promise I shall have you writhing again before the hour is out.”
Heat moved through her at the promise. She swallowed and lifted her glass for another small sip, grateful for the excuse to busy her hands. And though she was not entirely fond of the drink, the way it warmed her belly and made her limbs loosen was awfully nice.
For a time, they sat like that… her straddling his thighs, the brandy slowly emptying from their cups to the warmth of their bellies, the firelight gilding every slow blink and secret smile. She felt a peace she could not recall ever knowing, threaded through with the anticipation that soon, very soon, he would touch her again. She was entirely too impatient, but she would try not to push more.
Every little stroke of his fingers over her skin drew chill bumps in their path. She toyed with the hem of his linen shirt, pushing at the fabric so she could touch his skin the way he was touching hers. When she'd reached up above his naval, he pushed out an amused breath.
"What is it, little mouse?"
She swallowed, unable to stop herself from asking once more. “I was only… wondering whether it might feel so pleasant again.”
He chuckled, setting his glass aside. “Little glutton.”
She huffed, cheeks hot. “You are unkind.”
“Am I?” He took her face in his hands. “Or am I merely perceptive?”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he kissed her, and her thoughts scattered. When he broke away, his hands drifted down to cup her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples until she arched. His mouth found her neck, sucking gently.
“You wish for more,” he murmured against her skin.
“I…” She swallowed. “Yes.”
He laid her back once more and began anew—fingers sliding between her thighs, stroking until she whimpered. Until he was fully recovered and his prick was thickened once again.
"Let us go to our bed." He helped her up, his fingers purposely grazing her hip as they both moved to the much more comfortable feather mattress. She climbed on first while Harry stripped his shirt away, his gaze drinking in the sight of her… her bare back, the soft curve of her hips, as she settled onto the coverlet and watched him with wide, wondering eyes.
He could have her any way he wished, and she would not deny him. He moved in next to her and pulled at her hips, settling her astride his hips, his length slipping between her slick folds as he lay down on his back.
“Stay just here,” he said, voice rough. “Let us find it together.”
He guided her hands to rest against his chest before taking hold of her hips. When she looked down, her breath caught at the sight of their bodies pressed together with her slickness glistening on the ruddy crown of him. She gasped as he began to guide her, their bare flesh sliding together, hot and unashamed.
“Oh…” she pushed out the exclamation in a breath. It was so much. So warm and strange and perfect, she could scarcely hold the sensation in her mind.
He watched her face, gaze dark and steady. “Does it please you?”
She nodded, unable to form a word. Her hands splayed over his chest, feeling the solid rise and fall of his breaths. He rocked his hips gently, the hard length of him gliding against the tender pearl of her desire.
The first time she shifted her hips on her own, she startled at the burst of pleasure that sparked through her belly. He groaned low, the sound curling around her spine.
“Again,” he coaxed. “Just like that.”
She swallowed and did as he asked, sliding forward and back with more intention. It was not the same as being filled with his fingers, but oh, it was nearly too sweet to bear. The ridge of his cock rubbed exactly where she needed, every stroke leaving her breathless.
“God…” she whispered, her eyes falling shut. “It's so warm...”
His hands flexed over her hips, guiding her when she faltered. “Yes. That’s it, little mouse… take what you need.”
The fire cracked beside them, casting golden light over their joined bodies. She could not look away from the sight, her slick folds gliding over the length of him, his skin shining with her wetness. His abdomen tightened with each motion, the muscles shifting beneath the fine hair on his belly.
A soft keening sound escaped her, and her cheeks flamed hot at the thought that it belonged to her. But he only groaned in answer, the roughness of it making her clench.
“Look at me,” he rasped.
She opened her eyes, and their gazes locked… hers wide and wondering, his dark with hunger and a tenderness she could not have imagined.
“It feels too good,” she confessed, voice breaking. “I shall die of it.”
He huffed a ragged laugh, his thumbs pressing sweet circles into her hips. “If you die, I shall perish with you.”
It was nearly too much, too raw, too intimate. She pressed her palms harder to his chest and moved faster in instinct, the slippery slide of him sending little shocks of pleasure all through her. He guided her at a slow pace, letting her grind herself over him until her thighs quivered.
“Harry…” she gasped. “I think—I think it’s coming again!”
“Let it,” he urged, his own voice unsteady. “Let it, sweet girl.”
She cried out, her head tipping back, the pleasure cresting all at once. Every muscle in her body tensed as she came, her slick pulsing hot over him.
The sight of her, glorious and undone, dragged him right to the edge. He cursed softly, his hips thrusting up once, twice before he spilled between them, hot and thick, their bellies streaked with the proof of it.
For a moment, neither of them moved. She stayed straddling him, breathing hard, her skin flushed. She could feel the throb of him still fading against her. Her mind was slow to return to itself, dazed and glowing with a satisfaction she had never dreamed of.
At last, he cupped her cheek, smiling up at her with eyes gone soft. “I think,” he murmured, “we have done very well indeed. You are far better than you know.”
Heat prickled along her throat at the praise. She looked down where their bodies were still joined by the evidence of all they’d shared, then quickly averted her gaze, shy all over again.
“Come,” he said. “Let me see you settled.”
He eased her carefully off his hips, rising to fetch a fresh cloth. She lay back against the pillows, limbs loose and boneless, watching as he cleaned them both with gentle hands. When he finished, he drew the coverlet up over her bare body before sliding in beside her.
His arm slipped beneath her neck, gathering her close. She turned to bury her face against his shoulder, breathing in the clean scent of linen and the warm salt of his skin.
“You are okay?” he asked quietly, lips near her temple.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I'm soaring.”
He exhaled a slow, relieved sigh and pressed a kiss to her brow. The fire burned low, throwing shadows across the chamber walls. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with the soft ache of satisfaction and the weight of her own contentment.
. .
Sunlight slipped past the drapes, warm on her bare shoulder. She stirred, stretching her limbs with tentative caution. Every part of her felt tender, softened by the night they’d shared. When she blinked her eyes open, she found him awake beside her, propped on an elbow.
“Good morning, little mouse.”
She smiled drowsily. “Good morning.”
He kissed her temple. “How do you fare?”
He smiled faintly and reached to stroke the skin of her cheek. “How fares your body?”
She hesitated, then let her hand shyly drift down to rest over his length, already stirring with interest against her thigh. Everything from the night before had been nothing but a delight. She couldn't understand the ache for more, but it was there.
“I would like to do it properly,” she whispered, her skin aflame. “I wish you to have me… wholly.”
His brows lifted, and he cupped her face in both hands. “Are you certain?”
“Yes,” she said, her heart thrumming. “I want to feel you. I want… to give it to you.”
He slipped his hand to her throat, thumb brushing the place her pulse beat so fast. “And what is it you desire to give me?”
He knew what she was seeking but before he took it from her, he wanted to hear her say the words. Her breath came unsteady. She felt reckless, near undone by the safety she had found in his arms.
“I want,” she began, and paused, gathering her courage. “I want to feel you inside me. Entirely. I want to give it to you.”
His eyes darkened, the mirth fading to something deeper. “Do you know what you ask?”
“I do.” She lifted her chin. “I know you said there was no need to rush. But I do not wish to wait. Not if you will have me.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed as he searched her face for any sign of fear. When he found none, only resolve bright as morning, he exhaled and pressed his forehead to her shoulder, his own body vibrating with need.
“Then I shall have you,” he whispered. “But we shall go slowly, and you will tell me of every discomfort. Swear it.”
“I swear.”
He kissed her mouth, unhurried, as though they had endless hours to lie abed. His hand trailed down her side, then further, coaxing her thighs apart. She felt her body already answering him, readying itself as his fingers slid between her folds.
“You see?” he murmured against her cheek. “Your body knows what is to come.”
He worked her gently, drawing small circles that made her hips shift and her lips part with a quiet gasp. She clung to his shoulder, unable to think, only to feel.
When she grew wet and pliant under his touch, he pressed a finger inside, then a second, coaxing her with slow strokes. The stretch made her whimper, but she did not shy away.
“Easy,” he breathed. “Easy now.”
Even as he said the word—easy—he himself was reeling. His heart pounded, his skin was burning, his hand was shaking. He'd never needed to display such restraint in his life and he was nearly at the edge of himself to lose control.
Her body clenched and softened, her breaths coming shallow as he prepared her. When she began to tremble again, he drew his fingers back, pressing a kiss to her temple.
He guided her onto her back and settled between her thighs, bracing himself on one elbow so he could look into her eyes. With his free hand, he took himself in hand, the tip gliding through her slick heat.
Her breath caught as she felt him there, so close she thought she might faint from the wanting. The warmth of him pressing and sliding against her was not unlike the night before, but this time it was different.
“Breathe,” he said softly. “You must breathe.”
She nodded, her chest rising as she tried to steady herself, waiting for him to get on with it. Waiting for the sting, the pain… the blood.
With a low groan, he pressed forward, the thick head of him pushing into her inch by inch. She gasped at the burn, her fingers clutching at his arms. It was much, much more than she thought.
He stilled at once, voice rough. “Is it too much?”
“N-no—only—”
“Only different.” He kissed her jaw, her throat, waiting. “You are doing beautifully.”
When she exhaled and her hips tipped up, he eased deeper, the slow stretch making her cry out, though not in pain alone. He was inside her, truly inside, filling her in a way she could never have imagined.
“God,” he rasped, his breath ragged against her skin. He couldn't help but to peer down at their bodies joined. His cock throbbed at the lewd sight. “You are… you are…”
Her body tightened around him, and he groaned, fighting for composure. His instinct told him to bury in and begin sliding into her at full intensity so he could finally indulge in the slick hug of her cunt around him.
Instead, he took her hand and pulled it down her body, guiding her fingers over her pearl. "Touch. The way you do when you are alone. Like this…"
He moved her fingers there, and she blinked up at him, wide-eyed. She understood his instructions and began to rub over herself, two fingers drifting in circles, pressing until she began to feel the delight all over. It was then that he began to move again.
The king kept slow and steady, pulling back and pushing deeper as she kept her fingers gliding. He could feel her knuckles bumping at his low tummy as she clenched delicately around him. And the deeper he nudged the more she stretched to take him, until at last he was seated fully within her. He stilled, pressing his brow to hers.
“Does it ache?”
“A little,” she whispered. “But—oh—”
He shifted, just enough to make her gasp. “But it is…so full.”
"Don't stop your fingers. Keep them moving, yes?"
She nodded as he moaned against her cheek. He could wreck her without consequence. He could find his own end as he so pleased. But she was too sweet for that. And he was finding that prolonging his own pleasure was quite divine. He'd never experienced it before, always having whatever he wanted when he wanted it.
He kissed her then, his hand gentle where it cupped her face. “We shall wait,” he whispered. “Until you tell me you are ready. Keep going like you are.”
She blinked, her eyes wet. And after a long moment when the ache began to ease and the strange fullness began to feel like something better, she tilted her hips and whispered, “Harry…”
He closed his eyes. "Tell me, mouse. What is it?"
"I think it's okay. Please…"
Her fingers were wet, his length was soaked in her, her body was buzzing with need just as intended. He moved in her slowly, each stroke drawing a breathless sound from her lips. Her hands slipped up his back, holding tight as her body began to learn the rhythm, the pleasure that built with each thrust.
Her hands clung to his shoulders, her breath breaking on every slow push and pull. It was almost too much, the stretch of him, the heat, the knowledge of what they were doing. And yet it was never quite enough to tip her into that blinding release she’d felt before.
He rocked into her in a steady rhythm, his jaw tight with restraint. Every time her body gripped him, he felt himself sliding closer to the brink.
“Ah—God,” he groaned, voice ragged. “You feel…you feel as though you were made to take me.”
Heat swept over her chest. She couldn’t look away from his face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his mouth fell open when he thrust a little deeper.
“Harry…” she gasped.
“Tell me,” he rasped. “Does it please you?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes—it’s…it’s so good.”
She meant it. Every slow glide was a kind of sweetness she had never known, an ache she did not wish to end. But it did not gather her up the way his mouth and his fingers had. It only made her feel stretched, possessed. Like she was coming apart without quite falling.
He felt it too, her trembling but never quite peaking. His hand slipped between them, thumb circling over the place she touched before, but still she only sighed, her hips tipping up for more without that final surrender. The angle wasn't quite right, but god did it feel good.
“It's enough,” she whispered, her voice soft and certain. “It is perfect like this.”
He made a strangled sound, the control finally slipping from him. “I cannot—”
She felt the change in him, the deeper push, the tension that turned his body hard beneath her hands. A helpless cry tore from his throat as he spilled inside her, his hips pressing flush as he shuddered against her.
She held him, her palms splayed over his back, her heart thundering. The heat of him filling her was a wonder in itself, even without the peak that eluded her.
When at last he stilled, he pressed his face to her throat, breath coming in ragged gasps. “Forgive me,” he mumbled, his lips moving against her skin. “I could not—”
She hushed him gently, sliding her hands to cradle his face. “It was beautiful.”
His eyes lifted, still dark with the last shreds of hunger. “You didn't finish…”
She shook her head, though she smiled. “Not this time.”
His gaze searched hers, then he withdrew slowly, carefully, drawing a soft gasp from her lips. Before she could shy away, he pressed a lingering kiss to her breast, her collarbone, her throat.
“Lie back,” he whispered, his voice gone low and rough again.
She blinked, uncertain. “Harry?”
“Lie back,” he repeated, easing her down into the pillows. “I would have you finish as you deserve.”
Heat rushed up her neck, but before she could protest, he kissed the inside of her knee, parting her thighs with sure hands. She felt his breath against her, the brush of his mouth.
“You are too good,” she whispered, her voice breaking, not even aware of what she was saying.
He only looked up at her, eyes fierce with devotion. “I shall never have enough of you.”
And then his mouth was on her, hot, slow, unhurried. He tasted her with the same reverence as the night before, his tongue coaxing her toward the pleasure she thought she’d lost.
He laved her tenderly, his spend mingling with her sweetness on his tongue. And he didn't know why but it only made him feel more ravenous. That she was filled up with him, and it was leaking like a posset filled with sweet cream.
This time, there was no strain or fear. Only the molten sweetness building with every stroke of him. And then his fingers met her tender opening, where he pushed them in and suckled her bud with his lips.
Her hand flew to his hair, her thighs trembling as she moaned aloud. “Oh—oh—”
He hummed low against her, fingers gently curling inside of her, and the vibration tipped her over the edge at last. Her body seized, all that wanting flooding out in a rush she could not stop.
She cried out, her voice echoing off the chamber walls. He did not stop until she went limp against the pillows, her breath coming in small, broken sobs of relief.
When he lifted his head, his mouth glistened with her. He kissed the inside of her thigh before gathering her into his arms, holding her close as her heart slowly quieted.
“I believe I adore everything about you,” he whispered into her hair.
She blinked up at him, dazed, her lips parting. “I think… I think I adore you as well.”
He smiled, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. “Then you are mine,” he said softly.
She touched his cheek, her own face warm with wonder. “And you are mine.”
They lay in the hush, their breathing the only sound.
He stroked her arm, his hand lingering at her side. “You are so good,” he said, his voice hoarse. “My sweet one.”
She smiled at the name. “I thought it would hurt more,” she confessed, blinking up at him. “But it was… Heaven.”
He smiled faintly. “I meant to be careful so it would feel good. I should like you to recall this night with gladness, not dread.”
She let her palm drift over his chest, the steady thump of his heart beneath her fingers. “I think I shall remember it as the night you were…very gentle.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Oh, now, mouse… I am always gentle.”
She lifted a brow. “You are not.”
His mouth curved as he leaned down to kiss her, slow and unhurried. “No,” he admitted when he drew back. “But with you, I find I have a mind to be.”
She felt something unfurl low in her chest… something that had little to do with lust and everything to do with the peculiar tenderness he showed only to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “For waiting. For…asking.”
He studied her face as his hand moved idly over her hip, not in invitation but in reassurance. She traced the shape of his collarbone, the line of his jaw.
At last, she sighed. “I think I'm hungry.”
He laughed, the sound low and warm. “So soon? Have I worn you out only to leave you famished?”
“A bit,” she said, smiling. “And I would like something warm.”
“Then you shall have it.”
Reluctantly, he shifted to sit up. He reached for the bell cord near the bed and gave it a firm tug. She watched him, her heart turning over in her chest. Even in the simplest movements, reaching for the cord, smoothing the coverlet around her… he carried himself with a kind of unthinking authority. But there was nothing cold in it now, nothing cruel. Only the easy gravity of a man content to care for her.
“Will they think it odd?” she asked softly. “To be summoned so early?”
He looked back at her, a glint of amusement in his gaze. “Let them think what they like. We have nothing to prove to any of them. My little mouse is hungry; that is my only concern.”
She sank back into the pillows, her body tender and satisfied, her mind hazy with the sweetness of it all.
“Shall we take our breakfast here?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, returning to the bed to gather her against his side. “I should like to keep you to myself a little longer.”
And when the knock came at the outer door, he kissed her hair and mumbled, “After this, we shall rest as long as we please. The kingdom can wait.”
She smiled and let herself believe him.
. .
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Look, we all know by now that guru's work is utterly delicious. But this series is phenomenal. Every chapter is worth waiting for, your storytelling and the historic detail is breathtaking. I really don't know what else to say about this one.
The build up of tension between them was hitting the most natural beats. I loved that the king took his time with her and didn't rush but really enjoyed some of his inner thoughts on how he just wanted to take her right away. But it made for such a sexy chapter. And then the actual act, when they finally had sex! It was more perfect than even I could have imagined. It was realistic in the way that she didn't just jump on him and start bouncing and cumming everywhere. He still had to take his time and even then she didn't finish while he did- but of course he makes up for it by eating her out fuck it was so good! I fully expected that you'd have her cum with piv (because it's fiction and all) but I love even more that she didn't.
And a side note, just my medically inclined observation -- but according to the timeline she would be close to ovulation around this time based on when she had her period in the story. I don't know if you did that on purpose or not but I 100% was thinking of that while reading.
I'm so glad you liked this, V! Ahhh thank you 🙏 I had decided a long time ago that she would not be just jumping on it right away and turn into some nymph suddenly (she was a virgin so it needed a slower pace).
And to your side note... I don't think I really thought it out too much, tho that did cross my mind. You're so observant! lol
Thank you so much my love! Really appreciate you 🥰
From Me/warnings: total filler episode. I think you'll all like the ending 🥰 a little fluffy and angsty as always. You'll all probably be mad there is no smut. Might need it's own part for that. I hope you like it. There is an unspecified amount of time happening here; like months. It's subtle. I'm thinking it's from like Nov-Feb-ish by the end. Anyway.
Summary: “Mm…but I want t’fix the bookshelf,” he murmured. “S’been on m’mind.”
“Long day?” She asked.
“S’cold and long, yeah,” he sighed.
“You don’t have to stay here every day—you can go home to your nice warm shower and—”
“M’spending time with y’bird. S’not a bad thing,” he said reassuringly. “Told you that I don’t mind spending time with y’even if s’just helping with lessons.”
“Try this,” he smiled sweetly and held his hand below the spoon to catch drips. He was making vegetable soup for her because she said it was her favorite. It was loaded with all her favorite veggies and when he placed the spoon in her mouth, she readjusted her thoughts of general, boring, vegetable soup being her favorite because Harry’s was officially her favorite version.
After her yummy taste test, she nodded. “It’s delicious,” she agreed. His grin grew a little brighter and he leaned in to kiss her briefly.
“Hmm, it is, isn’t it?” He chuckled to himself and pecked her lips again. She rolled her eyes but smiled as she started loading dishes into his dishwasher. “Y’don’t have t’do that, bird,” he said knowingly.
“You’re making me dinner, of course I do,” she rolled her eyes.
Harry was a wonderful boyfriend. If she was allowed to call him that. She was pretty sure she was. They hadn’t discussed it, but it seemed pretty obvious to her that she was entranced, enchanted, and totally tangled up in his smile, his voice, his entire being. Every day after the buses left, he came to her classroom to help her with whatever she needed for the next day. On Fridays, he fixed something in her room and helped as best he could if she needed help prepping for the following week. Sundays they went to lunch and kissed until her mouth hurt and then kissed some more. He made her dinner on Tuesdays, and they went to get drinks with Eleanor and Louis on Fridays after they left her classroom.
They had gone about this routine for a little over a month. But today was Saturday, and she planned on staying the night at Harry’s place for the first time. His house was so nice. There wasn’t a hole in any part of his ceiling. Not a window that was painted shut nor a floorboard that swelled in the middle of the room. The walls were the prettiest shades of greens and blues. It was decorated perfectly, and she felt right at home.
She perched herself on the counter after loading the dishwasher and watched him add more to his soup. He was wearing a pair of jogging pants, a T-shirt, and socks that didn’t match. He was adorable and she wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go. “Are y’staring at m’butt, Bird?” He peered over his shoulder and scanned her up and down with a smile that warmed her from the inside out.
“Yes,” she nodded, her cheeks turned pink but was otherwise unapologetic about it.
“Good,” he murmured and turned back to the soup. She smiled and looked at her hands in her lap. “Am I keeping y’from school stuff?”
Technically, maybe. But did she really need to do it when Harry was looking so fucking good making her soup? “No,” she shook her head.
He peered over his shoulder again and looked at her suspiciously. “I don’t believe y’much,” he winked. “But if y’won’t be stressing over it, m’not going t’complain,” he turned away from the stove and put his hands on either side of her thighs, his hips nestled between her legs. “I like you here,” he pressed his forehead to hers, his mouth so close to her lips again. Her hands moved to the sides of his neck.
“In your house? Or on your counter?”
“Both.”
She grinned and leaned in to kiss him. He pulled her forward, so her legs wrapped around his hips, and he deepened the kiss leaning her back as he slid his tongue along the curve of her lip. In doing so, she bumped her head against the cabinet overhead--not hard, but Harry immediately worried.
“Oh shit!” He pulled away instantly. “Are y’alright?” He asked, cupping the back of her head gently and feeling for something amiss. He frowned; his brows cinched together in the middle of his forehead.
“Barely touched it,” she assured him with a smile.
“Your kisses get me all distracted,” he mumbled and kissed her forehead. “First your vase... now your head.”
She giggled. “I guess we could kiss less if it will make you feel better.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head as he buried his face into her neck and pressed a line of warm kisses against her skin. “S’absolutely not what I want,” his voice was muffled into her throat. She laughed silently again and shrugged.
“It’s worth it to me,” she assured him. “Soups bubbling,” she gestured. He sighed and turned back to it after he kissed her three more times on the lips and made it seem like it was hard to move the two feet back to the stove. “I like being here too,” she said quietly. “A lot,” she nodded. He glanced over his shoulder again and smiled so brightly she thought that glow of an angel’s halo would have been put to shame. The sun couldn’t shine brighter.
“Good,” he said. “Y’can stay as long as y’like as often as y’like,” he said knowingly.
“Yeah?” She asked.
He nodded, turned the burner temperature down another notch, and pulled open a drawer next to the sink. He held a key out to her. There was a key chain attached to it that said Look at you, buying a house and shit. “S’a housewarming gift from Niall,” he rolled his eyes. “Y’can come over whenever y’want,” he put the key in her hand and wrapped her fingers around it.
That seemed like a slippery slope to never leave his house. His room wasn’t freezing. Especially now that it was almost full swing December, going to bed without socks on was almost a sentence to frostbite. “At one in the morning during a thunderstorm?” She asked, a smile on her lips.
“Y’gonna inspect the roof for me? S’your favorite time t’do it, right?” He rolled his eyes. She smiled with a shake of her head.
“Come over before one in the morning,” he murmured. “So, we can be cozy in bed before the weather,” he kissed the side of her head.
This would be the first time they slept together. Other than their impromptu, completely innocent sleepover in the rain. She wouldn’t ask Harry to sleep between the covers (and she predicted that they would be having a much less innocent sleepover at that). However, Harry assured her there was no expectation.
He told her through text. I don’t want this to be a big deal, so I’m texting it to you. You can spend the night, of course. Always. No precursors or pretenses. Don’t over think it. I just want you here.
And well, how was she supposed to not sleep with him when he was so sweet and good?
“Can I ask y’something?” He wondered, coming back to stand between her legs. His hands back to her thighs and making all thought disappear.
She nodded. “Of course,” she rested her hand on top of his wrists. He squeezed her thighs over her leggings and moved them up and down along the length of her legs gently.
“Who’s the guy with Milo that keeps chatting with y’during pick up?” He asked.
She tensed. She didn’t mean to. She wasn’t hiding it. Harry and his pretty gaze was warm on her when she was at dismissal. Evan had been picking up Milo more frequently and he was downright thrilled to chat with her at pickup.
She was not downright thrilled about it. “Oh, so s’not good,” he frowned at the way all her muscles flinched beneath his hands.
“No,” she shook her head. “It’s not like that,” she felt her face warm as she rushed the sentence out. “Milo’s uncle… his name is Evan,” Harry waited patiently, and she was really being terrible to not get the next sentence out faster. “He’s my ex,” she glanced away, embarrassed.
Harry’s eyebrows moved up his forehead and he nodded. “Oh,” he hummed. “Uh… like… like the one y’mentioned that—”
“That didn’t like my job or had time for my stuff and always wanted me doing his things, right. Yes. That one.”
Harry pressed his lips together and he scanned her face. “Why didn’t y’say something?”
She shrugged. “It didn’t… seem pertinent.”
“That your admittedly very shitty ex is coming t’pick up his nephew and chat with y’nearly every day?” One of his hands slid up her side and to the side of her face. “Is he bothering you?”
She sighed. “Not… not really.”
“Kitten, m’trying t’be very patient right now. But I do not like this man because he hurt you. Made y’feel like y’weren’t important. So m’really trying, but I need you t’explain a little more a little faster if y’don’t mind,” he pleaded very gently. He was right, it wasn’t fair to make him drag it out of her. “What do y’mean not really?”
“He’s not doing anything wrong,” she sighed. “He just… irritates me. Like everything he does,” she shrugged. “He tells Milo to watch his shoes on his clothes when he picks him up. Like Milo’s not the cutest kid in the world. He makes backhanded comments about the stuff we do in class—like the progress Milo’s making. That kind of stuff,” she shrugged. “It’s annoying.”
“So… he’s not… harassing you?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll tell me if he does?” He asked. “Immediately? Like scream it t’me from the bus port?”
She smiled at the thought. Part of her thought that watching Harry sprint across the parking lot and parent pickup circle would be the closest to a knight and shining armor moment she’d ever get. But she would never want it to come to that. “I promise.”
He grinned. “Good,” he kissed her for a moment, sinking his lips against hers. “He’s an idiot. But not that much of an idiot that he’s dumb enough t’let the opportunity t’chat with you go t’waste.”
“I wish he would,” she grumbled.
Harry chuckled and he pressed a kiss to the corner of her eye. “Thought I needed t’be jealous,” he admitted shyly. “I wanted you t’tell me sooner, but I didn’t want t’come off as controlling,” he sighed. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head.
She snorted. “Harry, I can promise you. I am a little too obsessed with you and you have nothing and nobody to be jealous of.”
He cupped her chin and kissed her again. “Good, m’obsessed with you too.”
A sigh left her before she could stop it. “Thank God,” relief apparent in her tone.
“Did y’think I wasn’t?” He chuckled.
“No…I mean. I thought, but I’ve been nervous to call you my boyfriend and whatnot.”
“Oh?” He smiled. “Nervous?”
“Well yeah.”
“Why’s that?”
“We’ve never really…talked about it. Maybe you don’t want a girlfriend? Especially one that spends about fifteen hours extra in her classroom for no additional pay. Or that has a bedroom that is colder than an igloo. Or is literally always so tired she can barely finish one whole movie at a perfect reasonable hour.”
Harry smiled like he had a secret. He bit his lip and nodded. “Igloos are probably warmer than your room, Bird.”
“My point remains.”
“Your point, kitten, is silly. No offense. Only an idiot wouldn’t want t’be your boyfriend and m’happy t’let anyone else forfeit the opportunity and ‘ve been calling you m’girlfriend since October. Y’should have said something.” She blushed bright red, she was sure. “Sometimes, y’turn the same shade of red as the pants y’wore the first day I met you when I embarrass you. S’my favorite thing,” he brushed his fingers along her cheek.
“Oh,” she ducked her face. “I didn’t know that.”
“S’adorable,” he assured her and kissed her warm cheek. “Now would my girlfriend like a bowl of soup?” He asked and stepped away from her.
She nodded with a smile. “Sure,” she giggled.
*
Harry was lying on the colorful carpet, his arm over his eyes and his feet crossed at the ankle. “I’ll help in a minute, jus’ need a quick rest,” he yawned.
“You don’t have to help, really. I don’t mind,” she assured him. “It’s just copies. Not much cutting or stapling.”
“Mm…but I want t’fix the bookshelf,” he murmured. “S’been on m’mind.”
“Long day?” She asked.
“S’cold and long, yeah,” he sighed.
“You don’t have to stay here every day—you can go home to your nice warm shower and—”
“M’spending time with y’bird. S’not a bad thing,” he said reassuringly. “Told you that I don’t mind spending time with y’even if s’just helping with lessons.”
She was sitting at her table that she designated for small group work and individual conferencing. She was making piles of the cutouts that needed to be done, the manipulatives she was going to use for sentence structure. They were going to start sounding out and spelling words together and it was one of her least favorite subjects. It was so rote and complex. When she learned to read she felt it was so much easier because she didn’t learn the science behind the words. It was too much for their little brains. She didn’t see the point when all it did was add to them not enjoying reading, but the standards said it needed to be done.
Harry snored softly. She smirked and grabbed her bright pink jacket and draped it over him. He didn’t move.
She let him sleep for about half an hour but didn’t want him to get overtired. “Hey,” she gently stroked the back of her hand on his face as she knelt on the floor beside him. “Sleepy head,” she whispered. “I’m finishing up, unless you want me to leave you here,” she smiled. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth kissing all along the back of her knuckles.
“I like this jacket,” he murmured and snuggled under it for good measure. “Y’look like a Barbie when y’wear this,” he sighed, yawned, then slowly sat up. His face was very close to hers. He grinned and brought her hand to his lips again. Even though it was likely she was one of the last people in the building, aside from the custodians, she had a strict, self-inflicted policy that there would be no kissing in her classroom. “Respectfully,” he said sweetly.
“Barbie is much prettier than I am.”
“S’like y’weren’t paying attention to the movie at all, kitten.”
“I paid attention!”
“Yeah, to the Ken parts,” he grumbled.
“Are you jealous of Ryan Gosling?” She laughed.
He shrugged then stood up, draping her jacket across her rocking chair, then helped her to her feet thereafter. “M’gonna look at the shelf now,” he stretched, leaning backwards so much that his shirt rode up a bit and revealed the tattoos on his hips that dipped below the waistband of his pants. “No need t’be jealous of Ryan when y’stare at me like that, Bird,” he winked.
She flushed about as pink as her jacket and headed back to the table and her mountain of papers. Harry worked quietly. “Think I need m’screw gun. S’an easy fix though. Just need to put the little bracket back in. Must have been stripped. M’gonna put it on the opposite side and hopefully that will hold it.” he said from across the room. He was crouched next to the shelf; it’s bottom and top shelf filled to the brim with books. But it was the middle shelf that was empty because it couldn’t hold any weight.
“Oh, I… I bought a tool set,” she said and hopped from her seat and went to the cabinet that Niall and Harry fixed on Halloween. It was on the top shelf, far out of reach from her kids, but it was almost a little too tall for her as well.
“I got it,” he said and put his hand on her lower back and gently coaxed her out of the way. “Pink?” He asked, placing it on a nearby table. He opened it up and analyzed all the items it carried. It was versatile for sure. A great little set for her.
“If the kids saw it, I wanted them to know it was cool for girls to be into fixing things as well,” she shrugged.
“I love it,” he smiled proudly. “Y’didn’t need t’get it. I would have jus’ gone t’get mine.”
“It’s a lot of back and forth though, and I just wanted—”
“T’make m’life a little easier?” He asked and pressed a swift kiss on her cheek. He knew of her no kissing policy. He knew it was smart because Harry was a slave to her kisses. There wasn’t much he could do to stop himself once he got going. “Thank you, Bird,” he said sweetly. “S’a nice little set y’got.”
“I figured I didn’t need anything super heavy duty like you and Niall.”
He chuckled and took it over to the shelf. “No, course not. Gotta keep myself useful somehow,” he winked at her put a couple screws between his lips to hold while he lined up the bracket he was fixing. She was definitely obsessed with his mouth because she couldn’t stop staring at him so casually holding the screws between his lips. “Y’keep staring at me, Bird, we’re going t’break y’no kissing rule.”
“You know about that?” She asked.
He popped one shoulder. “Figured s’probably safer. Y’make it hard t’stop kissing you. And m’likely t’do something to you that should never see the walls of a kindergarten classroom,” he teased and glanced over to see her cheeks turn that pretty shade of red he loved so much. “Go back t’whatever y’doing, kitten. Or m’gonna have t’go stand outside in the cold for a bit,” he chuckled.
*
She and Harry sat next to one another during the ballet recital that Zara invited her to. She noted that Amara and Janie were also part of the ensemble, and she made sure to point that out to Harry as they frolicked cutely across the stage.
Harry clapped and whistled along with the parents between dance numbers. He was a tremendous sport in putting their lunch date on hold to a later hour so they could attend the recital. At first, she opted to just move the date to a later time. “I promised Zara I would go,” she explained.
“I’ll come with you,” he offered.
She wasn’t sure if it was because it was still new, but her stomach flipped like she couldn’t believe at the prospect. “Really?” She asked. She stopped passing out papers to the desk for the morning work and looked him over as he fiddled with the outlet that was very clearly a safety hazard. “It’s like two hours at least. And... they're kindergarten ballet dancers... it's... cute, but it won't be... you know.”
He nodded with a chuckle. “Yeah, course,” he shrugged. “S’a cute little thing. Do we have t’dress up?”
“Um… like no more than business casual, I’m sure.”
He grinned. “A Sunday afternoon at the ballet sounds lovely, bird.”
He made it sound so grand, so lovely that she wanted to cry. She already knew she wanted to marry him, just as Zara had suggested. But she was almost certain that his proposition to go to her students’ ballet recital was quite possibly a marriage proposal.
Harry watched with rapt attention as her students twirled around. Between numbers, he leaned over to her to ask her a question. “Can I hold y’hand here, or are we keeping it rated G for your students?”
She smirked and grabbed his hand out of his lap and clasped it between both of hers against her thigh. He chuckled, kissed the top of her head, and enjoyed the remainder of the show.
*
“Here Miss Bee!” She blinked in surprise as Kaleb held out another flower to her. It was the tenth or so one that had been hand delivered as they entered the classroom. Mae and Hadley were the last pair to enter the classroom. Mae held a vase (it seemed to be made of plastic) and Hadley had one more flower.
“Where did we all get flowers?” She asked in surprise. They were all fake—probably for the best given that she didn’t think the little ones would be able to handle a real, delicate flower. But she was still curious as to where they came from anyway.
“Mr. Harry tolded us to give it to you,” Brayden giggled.
Her heart flipped and sped to an almost alarming rate. Did the kids notice the way her cheeks turned red? The same red as the pants Harry told her he loved so much. “Told, my love… well, that was very nice, wasn’t it?” She smiled at the flowers as she arranged them in the vase. It was so thoughtful, and so sweet. Asking her students to help out like that made her downright giggly.
“Do you like-like Mr. Harry?” Hadley giggled. “Will he kill spiders for you?”
She laughed and shook her head. “I think Mr. Harry would kill spiders for any of us if we asked politely.”
“I think Mr. Harry like-likes you,” Mae said knowingly and everyone in the class made ‘ew’ noises. She snickered.
“I don’t think we need to worry about like-liking anyone right now. I’m pretty sure it’s time to get going on our day. Right? Who’s going to lead today?” She asked and fluffed her bouquet a final time before heading toward her rocking chair.
But she knew she like-liked him a lot.
*
She didn't have to look up to know Harry was staring at her because she always felt his gaze on her at bus duty. It made her feel extra special and she was sad to think there would be a time when this wouldn’t happen any longer. When the job was done and Harry was no longer waiting at the fence while her little ones headed off for the afternoon.
Unfortunately, there were at least two days a week (always at random—so she couldn’t get herself out of it and avoid the interaction) where Evan appeared to pick Milo up. On those days, Harry’s gaze felt three times as hot on her. It was cold outside, but his presence still made her sweat. Or it was the thought that Harry was jealous, and she hated he felt that way.
He was polite, she’d give him that. Evan was a businessman after all and always made sure to make himself look good in front of an audience. Saying things like, you look nice. Or, Milo loves your class so much. And, remember when we went to this event and you made me look good? He didn’t say that phrase specifically, but it was definitely implied.
Did he bother you? His message was always delayed because she didn’t get to look at it until she was heading back inside. It made her feel flushed every time. First, he was going to be in her classroom in under ten minutes, but he still had to text, every time to be sure. Second, he cared so much about her well-being it was a little jarring that she had felt so under-appreciated for so long. Finally, she felt so bad that he was feeling jealous.
No, not at all. He’s annoying at worst. If he tells Milo to watch his shoes on his clothes one more time, I’m going to PURPOSEFULLY take Milo out into the dirt before pickup.
He can come and play in the concrete if you want.
She snorted. It’s good to know people in high places.
I’ll be right over, Bird 😉
*
Harry was in her bedroom, but it was completely innocent. In fact, it probably couldn’t be more innocent. Her bed, her dresser, her bookshelf, everything that was in her room was now in her living room and hallway. It was an absolute mess, but Niall and Harry were working easily, whistling around their masks. Niall was on the installation of the insulation and Harry was working behind him to repair the holes in the walls.
Louis and Eleanor were going to come over later for dinner. They were just ordering pizza, but she was making a salad that didn’t suck (one of her favorites). The guys had been working for a long while, at least since an hour after she woke up. Every hour she went to her room (wearing an extra mask that Harry told her to wear if she came to the room). It wasn’t as intense as his or Niall’s because he didn’t want her in there for long. “Hi,” he grinned behind his mask. But she could see it in his eyes. The way they crinkled at the corners. Like he was truly overjoyed to see her, even though she was just a few steps down the hall. “Everything okay?”
She smiled behind her own mask and nodded. “Do you guys need anything?”
“M’good,” he assured her.
“I’m alright, love, thank you," Niall turned to her briefly and then back to his task.
“Do you need help?” She asked and picked up a few scraps of the dry wall that didn't get picked up on the first go around. Once Harry fixed the walls behind Niall's work, they would have to repaint. She was more apt to help with that and looking forward to doing something useful. Harry wouldn't let her help move her very heavy furniture out of the room when they set up and of course there was the whole avoidance of the room all together so that she didn't breathe in any bad materials or air.
“No,” Harry shook his head. “All set, Bird. Thank you,” he gently pushed her toward the hall again before she got to antsy and started helping anyway.
“Niall, you would tell me if you need—” She called over her shoulder and around Harry.
“Oh no, absolutely not. I'm not getting between the two of you on this one,” he chuckled and continued his part of the process about her room.
Harry rolled his pretty green eyes and stepped into the hall so they could remove their masks. “We’re fine, kitten,” he put his hand on her arm giving it a slow but gentle rub. “We’re almost done,” he promised.
“I’m kind of sad my room’s going to be warm.”
He frowned. “How come? S’a good thing. Saves y’energy bills, and so forth.”
“Oh, I don’t know… it was a nice excuse to get all cozy together in bed,” she said quietly and smiled at the floor before she looked up at him.
Harry nearly groaned, but he didn’t want Niall to think they were doing something unable to be seen by her kindergarteners. “Y’don’t need an excuse for that, Bird,” he promised and cupped the back of her neck to kiss her almost hard on the lips. “M’happy t’be all wrapped up in you no matter how warm y’room is,” he released her and headed back into the room.
*
Kai was very excited to show off his karate moves in class. “Kai, my love,” she said pulling him into the hall away from the rest of the group. She crouched to his level and pressed her lips together. “Do you think practicing karate moves on our friends is a kind thing to do?” She asked looking at him pointedly.
He frowned. His eyes a little shiny. “I just wanted to show—”
“I know, I’m not mad, my love,” she reassured him and gave his little shoulder a squeeze. “But I don’t think kindergarten is the place to show off the moves. I’m pretty sure karate has a time and a place, right?”
He nodded and stared at the floor. “I’m sorry, Miss Bee.”
“It’s okay, my love. Do you know why we can’t do karate moves in kindergarten?”
“Because someone might get hurt,” he nodded.
She smiled. “Perfect. Let's head back in. But if you have belt promotion ceremony I would love to attend, yeah? Will you tell me when you have one?”
“Really?” He brightened instantly.
“Of course!” She giggled and patted him on the head softly.
“Mr. Harry too?”
“I’ll see if it fits in his schedule," she said quietly. But she was certain he would make arrangements to be there all the same.
"Mr. Harry is really cool," Kai said knowingly to her.
"He is, isn't he?" She smirked.
*
“Bird, y’heart is racing like crazy,” he murmured. “Y’alright?” He asked. She nodded. “Bird, my love,” he hummed gently into her ear. “Talk t’me,” he encouraged.
She sighed. “I like you… so much.”
He chuckled. “Yeah? I kind of figured… y’sound uspet by it.”
It was a little hard to focus. Harry was naked from the waist up. Technically, the waist down too, but there was the blanket over his lower half. She knew that Harry would be muscular and hot because of all the manual labor, but it was so much more wonderful than she could have imagined.
There were a lot of things Harry liked (loved) about her. Her kindness, her brain, her laugh. It was no surprise Harry adored her body too. Whatever religion entailed worshipping her, he was all for it and would sacrifice whatever he needed to, so he could keep her in his life.
She was also naked and wrapped up in a blanket as well. Her body half on top of his. He brushed the same spot of her hair, right near her temple, softly with his fingertips. So it was a little difficult for him to remind himself that he asked her a serious question. “I like you too, by the way. In case you couldn’t tell,” he whispered softly and kissed her temple.
Sighing again she felt her body heat up from his admission. On top of that, her room was warm now, but it didn’t mean they were no less snuggly. She stayed at Harry’s place on Friday nights then Harry stayed over on Saturdays. It meant that they could spend almost the entire weekend together—including their Sunday lunch date. It was a sweet routine and she was worried she was going to lose it or ruin it at a moment’s notice.
“I’m… kind of still broken about Evan,” she said very quietly. “You haven’t done a single thing to remind me of him. I promise,” she squeezed her eyes shut for a second to hold back the emotion. “I just think he fucked me up a little more than I care to really admit to anyone. Eleanor and Louis insist that it’s not a big deal but—”
“Kitten,” he frowned. “It’s not a big deal. But I don’t want you t’be upset,” he curled her closer to him. “You’re the best kind of girl.”
“But he was right,” she whispered. Her throat catching. “I spend so much time for little appreciation, compensation, on my students and my classroom. I’m always doing something. If not for my kids then for my family. I rarely have time to breathe, you know? I’m constantly tired, my ideal night out is falling asleep on the couch and someone carrying me to bed. It’s so lame, Harry. I’m scared that I’m not enough for you because you’re great. Like so fantastic, kind, helpful, thoughtful, so hot I can’t breathe sometimes, and I’m constantly a mess. I’m always planning a lesson. Or wedding planning. My house is always a mess too and I think the bags under my eyes would break the weight capacity at an airport, and—”
“Bird, m’not going t’let you talk badly about yourself. He’s an idiot. Y’do a lot, s’not a secret. Y’care so much about other people and s’one of the things I love most ‘bout you. But you’re absolutely insane if y’think you’re not enough for anyone, let alone me.” Several seconds passed without her speaking. Harry wondered what was going through that beautiful mind of hers but waited patiently for another few moments. “Bird?” He asked.
“You love me?” She whispered.
Harry blinked and thought over the words he said. “Shit,” he whispered. “S’not how I wanted you t’hear it the first time.”
“But you do?” She asked, her voice catching again. Like she couldn’t quite believe it. “Like you actually love me... and you’re not just… like saying that because I’m fun in bed or something?”
He snorted and laughed. He cupped her face in his hands and brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. “What is wrong with you, kitten?” He shook his head. “Yes, I love you. I love you so much. I loved you the first day when y’said Hocus Pocus in those pretty red pants and all your students turned their voices off and looked at you with so much adoration. S’the very same adoration I have for you because you’re perfect. You’re you and s’all I want you t’be. I don’t want you t’change a thing ‘bout yourself because s’made me love you an awful lot.”
She swallowed and blinked a couple times, Harry noted the tears filling the bottom of her lash line. “Oh,” she said softly.
“And if I have t’say it a million times and fix every part of y’classroom, y’house, or even y’car, I will. But I know that will bother you. Even though it’s some of m’favorite things t’do for you. You do everything, kitten. M’happy t’do anything for you.”
“You’re going to make me cry.”
He chuckled. “Sorry.”
“I don’t even know how to say it back after that. It seems so inconsequential. It doesn’t feel like enough.”
“My God,” he sighed. “Miss Bird can y’turn your listening ears on?” he joked and turned her head so he could press his lips to her ear. “You’re more than enough.”
She laughed quietly, turned her head back so she could kiss him and hopefully he could feel how much she loved his kisses. How much she loved him. “I love you too,” she promised. Nothing else.
And it was enough.
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Warning: like two more seconds of blood and then fluff and a bit of angst.
Summary: “Miss Bee, I think Mr. Harry needs help,” Niall said knowingly, teasingly, from his table where a little girl was helping Niall with the glitter that he wanted to add to his pumpkin. They both giggled conspiratorially. She snorted.
“I do not!” Harry glared at his friend then looked up at her with the most innocent, adorable face she had ever seen on a grown man. “Niall’s a tattle tale.”
“Miss Bee says there are no tattle tales in her class, Mr. Harry,” Tyler explained. “She said we have to think about if we need to tell her something first. There’s rules on the wall for it by the clock.”
“Yeah, and I don’t think Niall needed to tell on me,” Harry grumbled.
She was ready thirty-six minutes before Harry was supposed to show up. The anxiety she felt, even though he was there less than twenty-four hours prior, made her bouncy. Her knee was shaking as she sat on her sofa trying not to look at her phone for the twentieth time in the same minute to see that time was not moving any faster.
There was the thought to look in a mirror, but she feared she would ruin her hair for adjusting it too much. Or her makeup for thinking maybe one more swipe of eyeshadow would make her look better. Instead, she continued practically vibrating out of her seat in hopes that somehow Harry would get there faster.
She ignored her texts from Louis and Eleanor, both nearly giggling through their messages about being safe and using protection. She read over the itinerary her sister sent for wedding planning and when she got too overwhelmed, she switched gears to her weekly lesson plan. By then, only a mere nine minutes had passed. With how much she was tapping her foot, she thought that her floor was going to get a matching hole like her ceiling.
It felt like she had never been on a date before, and this was the first one. Maybe it was just the first one that actually mattered. Evan took her on dates of course, and in the early stages of their relationship, they were filled with excitement. But not like this. Everything moved so quickly with Evan. Dates, flowers, moving in, home repairs, and many events. By the end of their relationship, dates were extravagant, but almost always more of an event than spending time with one another.
Maybe it was worth waiting the agonizing twenty-four minutes that she still had to wait before Harry arrived.
Her phone pinged beside her. Harry’s name popped up and she felt her heart leap into her throat. Honestly, if he cancelled, she was going to be devastated. But she would of course understand.
I’m itching to come pick you up, Bird. Any chance you’re ready early? I’m only five minutes away from your place.
The wave of relief that flooded her made her feel two hundred times lighter. She laughed quietly to herself. Yes! I’m ready, I don’t want you to rush, but that would be great!
I’ve been sitting in my car for ten minutes and I just thought I couldn’t wait any longer. You’re sure you don’t mind?
Her heart did a somersault in her chest, and she thought she might explode from how cute he was. 🥰 No not at all. I’ve been a bit restless myself looking forward to our lunch.
😅 Good. I’ll see you in a minute, Bird.
Now she wished she had looked at her hair and makeup one more time. She paced her living room and fiddled with the pictures on the wall making sure they looked straight. Her eyes darted to the hole in her ceiling that Harry and Niall said they would fix next weekend once they were assured it was fully dried. They even went to her attic and set up a fan after breakfast yesterday to ensure the moisture wouldn’t accumulate mold. It made her heart skip a beat again to know he was willing to come help her in the middle of the night.
The knock on her door was expected but still surprised her anyway. She hurried over to the door trying not to sound like she was waiting right by the door. Harry stood on the step, a vase and accompanying flower arrangement in his hand. “Hi,” he grinned. “Y’look stunning,” he said scanning her up and down.
She thought she was going to melt right there in the doorway. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He held out the vase. “M’sister told me that getting your date flowers is nice, but s’a lot of work t’find a vase and take care of them right before y’supposed t’go out,” he smiled sheepishly.
She took the vase, inhaling the scent of the various flowers as she did. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”
“I didn’t know what kind of flowers y’liked so I kinda got one of each,” he admitted shyly.
She grinned. “I love it,” she nodded.
“The ceiling’s okay?” He asked.
She nodded again. “But… let’s not worry about it. I want to enjoy our date,” she bit the inside of her lip as she settled the vase on the small table just inside the doorway.
Harry’s smile grew somehow. It was astonishing. She was pretty sure if a lighthouse failed, they could use him instead. He leaned forward, cupping the side of her face and kissing her on the opposite cheek. Just a quick gentle brush of his lips against her skin. It made her feel warm all over, and she knew her cheeks probably turned pinker than the blush she used. If they did, Harry didn’t comment. He released her quickly. “Let’s go then,” he said holding his hand out for her to take (which she did quickly and enjoyed the way he squeezed her hand once he held it). Harry was dressed in dark jeans, a soft blue button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked so good, smelled better than the flowers he gave her, and she seriously thought about asking him if they could just stay on her couch so she could stare at him.
Harry opened the passenger door for her, making her heart tumble over itself once more. He closed her in and headed to the driver’s side. “I thought we’d go a town or two over jus’ so y’don’t run into any kids… unless y’want that. More witnesses and whatnot,” he winked.
She smiled. “No, that’s okay. I’d rather… keep you to myself for now,” she looked at her lap.
He chuckled quietly. “Works for me.”
*
Harry was fucked. He was worried he was staring at her too much. But then he was worried he was trying to avoid looking at her too much and seemed disinterested. Which was not the case. Harry was almost certain no one could be more interested on a date than the pretty girl sitting across from him. She was looking over the menu, not a particularly fancy place, but there were cloth napkins. Gemma said that a cloth napkin always classed up the date a bit.
Her eyes roamed the menu, her lips pursed in concentration. Harry was enthralled. The way her lashes framed her eyes, the curve of her smile, the wrinkle of her nose when she saw something she didn’t like. “Have you been here before?” She asked.
He shook his head quickly, getting himself to stop staring. “I’ve ordered take out after a job not too far from here.”
She nodded. “It looks really good, thanks for picking. I promise I won’t talk about teaching the whole time, but sometimes I get decision fatigue. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it, but basically, I make a lot of decisions all day long—for a lot of people. Decisions I don’t even realize I’m making. Picking what to eat is so exhausting sometimes that I don’t even make dinner and just have snacks,” she admitted with a smile.
That worried Harry, of course. He wanted to make her dinner all the time and not let her worry about it. “What d’you like t’eat?” He asked.
She smiled. “Oh, I’m not too picky, really. The butternut squash ravioli sounds really good, and it comes with bread. I’ll probably get brussels sprouts too.”
Once more Harry forgot that he was supposed to uphold his end of the conversation. She made her lunch choice sound like an acceptance speech for an award. “Hey Bird?” He asked quietly.
“Hmm?” She looked up.
“Y’can talk ‘bout teaching as much as y’want. M’not gonna get sick of it,” he promised.
She ducked her gaze to the menu again and smiled sadly. “Oh,” she laughed softly. “Thank you,” appreciation dripping in her voice as she looked up at him with an almost confused gaze. “I’m afraid it’s a pretty big part of my life and conversation.”
“Good,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I like hearing about it,” he promised with a grin.
*
The conversation flowed very easily. They discussed favorites and movies. She offered some of her Brussels sprouts to Harry and he gave her a handful of his French fries when she said they looked really good. He chuckled when she dipped them into the cream sauce that surrounded her ravioli. “It’s good, you should try it.”
It was good. But he still found it funny.
They chatted about their families. Gemma and her baby, his mum, and her family, who were all thoroughly invested in planning this wedding for her sister. “She picked my other sister to be maid of honor, but I’m doing a lot of the work,” she sighed.
“How come?” He asked.
“Because I’m crafty,” she shrugged. “I get roped into making all the stuff for her bachelorette trip—that I’m not going on because it’s during the school year—and I don’t know. She has this vision for the wedding to have some elaborate archway and I stupidly volunteered to make it.”
He smiled. “Do y’have a picture of it?” He asked.
When she went on dates with Evan, phones were nearly a necessity. She didn’t mind, really. They helped keep the conversation going. She would look up things to talk about and show off pictures of her classroom. Not that Evan cared about her classroom. He used his phone to conduct business even while on their date. Check on the score of a game or the like. But it was a little astonishing that she realized she had nearly forgotten she owned a phone until Harry asked for a picture.
“Oh, yeah,” she pulled her phone from her purse and searched through the pictures of the wedding album she created for her sister. “She’s getting married in June, which is also kind of crazy with the end of the school year. But,” she sighed. “It is what it is.”
Harry looked at the archway. It was pretty. Didn’t seem particularly complicated. “What are y’worried about?” He asked.
“Well, building it.”
“Building it?” He repeated.
“Yes. Because purchasing it would be too easy,” she rolled her eyes. “I shouldn’t complain. It’s not that bad, I’m just busy a lot of time and it’s going to be difficult because I need to get the right tools and—” she stopped. “I sound like an awful sister, don’t I?”
“No, not at all,” he shook his head. “S’a big endeavor t’do on your own. But… I have plenty of tools,” he assured her. “And I’ll help you,” he promised. “It’ll go a lot faster and smoother with two people.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Really?” She asked.
What the hell was her ex like that she didn’t feel like she could ask for help? “Yes, really,” he smiled. “S’easy m’sure.”
“Thank you,” she said so graciously, Harry thought his heart was going to melt onto the floor of the restaurant.
“At y’service Miss Bird,” he winked.
Their waiter came back to take their dishes, offered dessert which they declined. “Kitten, put your money away. S’useless here,” he shook his head putting his card into the check presenter. She blushed.
“You don’t have—”
“M’not having this discussion,” he shook his head. “S’no bother. M’happy y’wanted t’come out with me. I know you’re busy and m’taking up precious time on your weekend.”
She hadn’t thought about anything that usually plagued her mind when she was doing something enjoyable. She didn’t think about her lesson plans, the wedding, nor Christmas gifts she wanted to start buying. The only thing she could think about was how nice her time with Harry was when he looked so handsome and couldn’t stop staring at her. “I’d rather be here,” she assured him.
He smiled. “Good.”
*
Before they went into the restaurant, she recognized her surroundings and offered her two cents. “There’s a really good ice cream place nearby if you want to get dessert after,” she said. “Since it’s fall, they have this apple sundae special that’s super yummy.”
Harry put a hand on the small of her back as he ushered her back to his car. “Y’have room for ice cream?”
She nodded. “I always have room for ice cream,” she grinned.
He chuckled. “Ice cream it is.” They sat inside the little shop eating their ice creams. Hers, the small apple sundae she spoke about, and his, a cup of mint chocolate chip with hot fudge. “This is really good ice cream,” he nodded taking another spoonful. She ginned to herself, watching a drip of hot fudge get stuck to the bottom of his chin.
She bit her lip and grabbed a napkin between them. “May I?” She asked reaching out to his face. He smirked and she dabbed his skin.
He grabbed her hand when she was finished, made her drop the napkin to the table and he scooped her hand into his and smirked. “You look like a whole bouquet, Bird,” he scanned her again.
A puddle. She was certain her insides turned to mush, and she was no longer solid but liquid on the floor of the ice cream shop. She felt so warm she thought the heat she was producing would melt her sundae into the puddle of her organs on the floor.
“A bouquet?” She questioned.
“Prettiest bouquet I’ve ever seen.”
“I think I’m going to melt,” she whispered.
“Y’can’t melt when I haven’t even kissed y’yet,” he didn’t move his eyes from hers. A small gasp escaped her lips. “M’going t’melt as well,” he squeezed her hand. “Thought ‘bout kissing you yesterday. Well, ‘ve actually been thinking ‘bout kissing you since I met you,” he admitted with a smirk. “But y’really gave me a scare on the roof,” he reminded her.
The sight of her up there in the rain, not knowing what to do, terrified him. When he yelled, he didn’t think about her reaction—didn’t think it would send her over the edge of her home and nearly fall. Cradling her, no matter how briefly, felt like heaven. Despite the circumstances. Regardless of if it was raining and at one in the morning. Even though his heart felt like it was in his throat and his stomach twisted with worry.
All Harry wanted to do was wrap her up in his arms, a blanket, anything, and hold her for as long as possible.
“Will you be kissing me when you drive me home?” She asked.
“Would that be okay?” He squeezed her hand.
Would it be okay if the hottest man she’d ever seen kissed her? Yeah. She’d be okay. She nodded. “Very okay.”
*
She felt her hands nearly shake as she opened the door. Harry stood a few feet away; his hands tucked into his pockets as he glanced around the front of her house. “The door sticks a little,” she warned.
“I could look at that,” he offered.
She gave it a little shove and pushed inside. Harry watched the skirt of her dress flutter with the movement, and she stepped into the doorway. Harry helped her get her coat off and hung up on her coat rack. “Do you want—”
Harry grabbed her by the hips, then turned her so her back was against the wall adjacent to the door that he kicked shut. He put his hand behind her head protectively as he pushed her. Once safely against the wall, he brought one hand to her face, the other on her waist. He gazed at her, his nose almost touching hers. His breath smelled like mint chocolate chip ice cream and hot fudge.
She hoped she smelled like apples and not pasta or garlic. “M’pretty bouquet,” he hummed and brushed the back of his finger along her cheek. He wasn’t kidding about melting. And he still hadn’t kissed her yet. But was she breathing heavy? Panting? Like she had run a marathon? She thought she might lose her mind a little if he prolonged this. “This was the best date of m’life,” he brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “Can we have another?” He asked.
She nodded. “Please,” she breathed.
He grinned, nodded to himself happily. “M’gonna kiss you now, kitten. M’gonna make y’melt,” he promised.
“I’m sure,” her voice was hardly anything more than a whisper.
He smiled, leaned the final inch in, and covered her lips with his. She thought she was going to be embarrassed and moan but instead Harry beat her to it. And it was anything but embarrassing. She breathed out as he moved his mouth over hers, applying the most perfect amount of pressure.
An expert at fixing desks, a roof, and kissing. She should have known. His hand tangled in the back of her hair and brought her closer to him. His lips were soft and firm. A tantalizing, oxymoronic pressure that made her feel like her legs were going to give out. She grabbed a fistful of the front of his shirt in each hand. He licked and nipped at her, deepening the kiss. The hand at her waist shifted south, rubbing her hip, her leg through the skirt of her dress.
Harry moaned again, pulled away and dropped his lips to her jaw and he kissed down toward her ear, moved to her throat and brushed his lips against her collarbone. “Mm,” he sighed. “So good, Bird. So, so good,” he whispered into her skin. “Can I?” He asked, his hands drifting further south.
“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly. “Anything you want.”
He chuckled quietly; the air tickled her skin as he did. Slowly, he dropped his hands to cup around the side of her thighs, still politely over her skirt. He groaned. “So pretty, m’pretty Bird,” he slowly lifted until she was off the floor, her legs wrapped around his waist. “Don’t want y’melting all over the floor,” he murmured into her neck.
She didn’t care that her skirt rode up her hips and her underwear was probably showing. She hoped she picked a cute pair; that Harry would like her even if she wore comfy underwear too. “Mmm,” her hands moved to his shoulders, the back of his neck pulling him closer and wishing he could sink deeper into his mouth, his body, everything. She pushed away from the wall, nearly grinding into him as she wrapped herself tightly around him. She moaned softly, Harry groaning again in response as he pushed her back against the wall, her leg hitting against the table inside the entry way. Immediately, her pretty flowers and vase toppled to the ground and shattered.
Harry pulled away and sighed. “S’what I get for trying t’make y’life easier,” he smirked, kissed her cheek. “I’ll clean it up.”
“I could give two fucks about that,” she told him, her lips only a breath away from his. “Keep kissing me,” she begged.
He laughed again, brushed his nose against hers, “M’at your service, Miss Bee,” he whispered before parting her lips with his again.
*
She felt like she was floating at work. The little ones were all very excited about Halloween, their sand-witch party and everything. She wasn’t on top of her game because all she could think about was the hot construction worker just a short walk away from her. Her eyes drifted to the window. She wouldn’t be able to see him of course, but just the thought of him got her melting all over again.
It was a miracle she could sleep after Harry left her. The smile on her sore lips—she hadn’t felt sore from kissing since… well… ever—her mind spun with hundreds of thoughts all about Harry. Not a single lesson nor a bridal shower game entered her brain last night. The only thing she could think about was Harry.
Good morning, Miss Bee
She woke up to the text as her alarm rang for six o’clock. The time stamp said that Harry had been up for at least an hour. Biting her lip, she texted back. Good morning ☀️
Sleep well? He asked almost instantly.
Her heart skipped a beat. Yes, you?
Hard falling asleep when yesterday was so nice 😍
Agreed 🥰 I gotta get ready. See you at recess, maybe? I’ll be wearing blue and a head or two taller than the little ones.
Can’t wait, bird.
However, now she couldn’t find him through the window, and she had a class to tend to. But her lips still felt sore, and she couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the kindergarteners in front of her. “Did we all have a good weekend?” She asked as they moved to the carpet for another installment of Charlotte’s Web.
“Miss Bee, I tolded my mom that I want to be a construction worker when I growed up.”
She giggled. “Told and grown, my love,” she reminded Kai sweetly. “Are you going to dress up like one on Wednesday for our party?”
He nodded. “Mr. Harry is bringing me a hat and a vest,” he explained.
“Is he now?” She smiled.
“Yes. I asked him at recess.”
“Hmm,” she hummed. “That’s very nice of him. Maybe we’ll have to write him a thank you note, yeah?”
But she also thought she could thank him in other ways.
The kindergarteners didn’t need to know about that though.
*
Harry was sitting in a chair much too small for him. He happily cut up paper, glued, and drew with children that she loved so much.
Niall and he were eating sandwiches that were also much too small for them, and they still had a few hours of grueling work to do once they left the party.
But they didn’t bat an eye at the situation. They looked like they were enjoying themselves even. Every so often Niall would get up in his ketchup costume and inspect something amiss around her room, catching Harry’s eye. There was a nod from Harry, a silent conversation taking place about the problems in her room that he seemed to be keeping on a mental to-do list.
One thing that she noticed, it was really nice to have a few extra sets of hands in her room for the day. With twenty students using scissors and glue it was bound to get a little crazy.
“Miss Bee, Mr. Niall put four triangles on his pumpkin!” Janie said in excitement.
“No way!” She gasped.
Not that she didn’t believe Kai, but Harry did bring little hard hats and vests (with an Under Construction logo on the back) for the five students that said they wanted to be construction workers. He stopped by her classroom yesterday after school let out and he had a box in his hands and a sheepish smile on his lips. “I didn’t want t’be empty handed for the kids that aren’t planning t’be in the construction business.”
She blinked back tears as she inspected the package of vests and accessories of a variety of jobs. “Harry,” she said softly. “This is too much. It must have cos—”
“Probably a tenth of what y’spend on them in one year, bird. Don’t worry ‘bout it. ‘Ve spent m’money on a lot worse than the future,” he assured her.
She dropped the box between their feet and threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. He chuckled as he pushed the box out of the way with his foot and lifted her gently as he squeezed her back.
“Miss Bee, I think Mr. Harry needs help,” Niall said knowingly, teasingly, from his table where a little girl was helping Niall with the glitter that he wanted to add to his pumpkin. They both giggled conspiratorially. She snorted.
“I do not!” Harry glared at his friend then looked up at her with the most innocent, adorable face she had ever seen on a grown man. “Niall’s a tattle tale.”
“Miss Bee says there are no tattle tales in her class, Mr. Harry,” Tyler explained. “She said we have to think about if we need to tell her something first. There’s rules on the wall for it by the clock.”
“Yeah, and I don’t think Niall needed to tell on me,” Harry grumbled.
“Miss Bee says it’s only a need if it’s a matter of safety.”
“This is not a matter of safety,” Harry muttered bitterly.
She giggled, which made his whole body feel warm and he wondered how on earth he could be so obsessed with someone’s laugh after just a few short weeks. It felt like a bad day if he didn’t hear it. “Miss Bee, can I have the broom?” Amara asked. She tugged on Miss Bee’s costume, a tulle green skirt, a matching headband with two wire pieces that had big M&M’s bouncing from side to side, and a green M&M shirt. The class giggled at her when she changed into it (put it over top of her leggings and white sweater dress.
“Of course, thank you for being so thoughtful to keep your space clean, Amara,” she praised so the others could hear and hopefully help with clean up when the sand-witch party was over.
She went to the side of the room where she kept the cleaning supplies in a cabinet closet. However, when she pulled the door open it fell right off the old hinges. She yelped as it hit her foot and face at the same time. Her free hand went to her nose instinctively, and she lost her grip of it with her other hand but still tried to stop it as it toppled toward the tables.
The little ones screamed a bit dramatically, but Niall and Harry jumped right into action, grabbing it before it hit anyone else or caused any (more) damage.
“Are you alright?” Harry asked quickly, putting a hand on her hip innocently enough and scanning her from head to toe.
“Ah,” she shook her head and moved her hand to find that naturally she had given herself a nosebleed. “Fuck,” she whispered so no one could hear but Harry.
“We can fix it!” The little ones that had on their hard hats were ready to go to work with Niall and Harry even though they were dressed as ketchup and mustard.
“Oh Miss Bee! You’re bleeding!” DJ was dressed as a doctor, a stethoscope at the ready thanks to Harry’s kind gift.
She winced. It felt like defeat showing weakness. “I’m alright, my love. I just need to use the restroom to clean myself up.”
“I can help too!” Brayden said. He was dressed as a nurse, with a mask on his face ready to help out as well.
Harry crouched to the future medical professionals. “I think Miss Bee jus’ needs minute t’herself,” he whispered. “When she comes out, I bet she’ll let you look her over so y’can give her a clean bill of health,” he winked.
They both nodded with understanding and headed back to their tables. Harry grabbed a few tissues and ushered her back toward the bathroom. He wanted to close the door for the sake of her privacy and he really wanted to tend to her the way he wanted to, but he was sure that would look very bad in front of twenty, nosy kindergarteners who loved their adorable teacher.
“Are you okay?” He asked softly as she washed the blood off her hands and face while trying to maintain composure in front of the guy that she had a massive crush on while dressed like an M&M and a nose pouring blood like a faucet.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered.
He snorted. “For what? M’dressed as mustard,” he reminded her.
She smiled and winced at the pain it cause in her face. She shook her head. “The door landed on my foot,” she said. Harry crouched to the floor immediately. He took her ballet flat off like a reverse Cinderella and he still made her feel like princess. He brushed his fingers over her skin, and she hissed.
“S’a little scraped. We’ll have t’bandage y’up with your doctor and nurse,” he said from the ground while smiling up at her so cutely. A dumb, triangular cone on his head for his costume.
She already knew she was already falling hard for him, but she was almost certain she was going to tell a man dressed as a mustard bottle that she loved him in a kindergarten bathroom while she was wearing an M&M headband. She smiled again, holding a wad of tissues to her nose.
“Did it break y’nose?” He asked standing back up and skimming his fingertips along her cheek and tilting his head to get a better look to see if he missed some initial bruising.
She shook her head. “No… I just… I get nose bleeds very easily. I breathe too hard, and I start bleeding,” she sighed. “Sorry, that’s gross.”
“S’not gross, Bird,” he chuckled. “Jus’ making sure you’re alright.”
“I’m good. Thanks for getting me a minute to myself. We should probably go save Niall.”
“Niall’s fine, m’sure,” he promised. “If y’need another minute, I can go back out there with him.”
She wondered what the worst that could happen if she got caught kissing him during school hours.
“Mr. Harry,” fortunately they were interrupted by Milo before she could test any hypothesis. “Is Miss Bee going to die?”
He chuckled. “No, lad. M’thinking she’ll make it. We’re gonna check in with Dr. DJ and Nurse Brayden though,” he nodded and ushered the little one back toward the classroom. “Mr. Niall, y’think our little crew can help us repair the door?” He asked brightly. There was a chorus of cheers while she bit her lip.
“Miss Bee,” Zara whispered as she entered the classroom again. Zara was dressed as a baseball player which she loved more than most of the costumes she saw that day for a lot of different reasons. “Do you think you’re going to marry Mr. Harry?”
She smirked. “Are you trying to spread rumors about me, my love?” She asked with a giggle.
“No,” she giggled and put her hand on her mouth. “But I think you and Mr. Harry make a really cute couple. Like Lady and the Tramp or Delores and Mariano.”
She laughed. “Well, Mr. Harry and I are just friends,” she didn’t want the little ones knowing any of her private business when they were as involved with Harry as they currently were around the playground.
Niall returned from the outside entrance carrying a screw gun, a box of screws and few other items. “Guys and gals,” she moved over to where the group of five waited patiently with Harry and she crouched to their level. “Mr. Harry and Mr. Niall are being really nice to show you how to fix this. You have to listen to them very carefully. We’re not going to argue over who hands screws to them or ignore them if they say to let go or ask you to move out of the way, correct?” She eyed them seriously all in turn, all while keeping a tissue pressed to her nose.
“Yes, Miss Bee,” they sang in unison.
“They’re all yours, boys,” she gestured while standing up. “A good crew if I’ve ever seen one.”
“Thanks Miss Bee,” Niall pulled the trigger on the screw gun twice and Harry winked at her.
“Miss Bee can Brayden and me look you over now?”
“Brayden and I, my love,” she said gently with a nod. “Let’s go sit on the carpet, yeah?”
Harry smiled as she passed by him again brushing his hand along her back quickly and not even looking at her as he turned his attention back to Niall and his lesson of screw gun safety.
*
The sand-witch party was a huge success. She was already thinking of ways to make it better for the following year. Part of her was sad that Mr. Harry and Mr. Niall would likely be at a new job site. She wondered how that would change the dynamic of the party. Or if she was reading into it too much since it was a party for kindergarteners.
But once she got going it was hard to stop. There were so many learning targets she got to roll into one fun event. There were fine motor skills like gluing and using scissors, there was shapes, and prior to ketchup and mustard’s arrival, they wrote three sentences about the future career they had chosen and why they wanted it.
Harry and Niall said their goodbyes, took their pumpkins and some leftover sand-witches. “Who thinks the hexagon tasted best?” Niall asked as he bit into another one at the door. The class giggled at him, and they all shouted out their favorites and making a lot of noise while they waited expectantly for their departure. “Oops, sorry Miss Bee,” he said sheepishly.
She shrugged and smiled. “Zip it, lock it,” she said a little louder than normal.
“Put it in your pocket!” Then it was silent.
“That’s wicked,” Harry said almost dreamily. Niall snorted and hit his hand against Harry’s chest.
“Take it easy,” Niall muttered under his breath as he passed him to head back outside.
“All my friends love to thank Mr. Harry and Mr. Niall for coming to our party and hanging out with us!”
“Thank you!” The choir of six-year-olds cheered.
“See you later alligators,” Harry winked at them and waved as he and Niall stepped outside the room.
“In a while crocodile!” They all shouted back excitedly.
"Bye Miss Bird!" He practically cooed. He hoped the kids didn't notice but even if they did, he was having trouble caring.
“You’re an absolute goner,” Niall snickered as they headed back toward their job site. “Obsessed. In love,” he continued pulling the red ketchup hat cone off his head.
Harry smiled. “Mm, that obvious, hmm?”
Niall chuckled. “Think she’s a bit smitten too,” he said. “No one in their right mind would have sided with you about me being a tattle tale if they didn’t like you that much,” he reminded him and flicked his cheek before running ahead toward the jobsite again.
“You’re acting like a kindergartener!” Harry shouted.
“I know you are but what am I!?”
*
The remainder of the day was a little rowdy. Fun, learning got done, but she was very excited for the day to be over and very excited that there was a professional development day without her sugary students following Halloween night.
“See you all Friday!” She said cheerfully as her students scattered toward the busses and cars in the lot for pick up. She stood at her post outside where she always did, waving and grinning at former students, coworkers, and even a few parents as they tried to sneak out before the fleet of busses.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry at the fence, waving from afar, to those that knew who he was as well. “Miss Bee,” Milo tugged on her skirt as they all got ready for dismissal. She crouched next to him and smiled happily.
“Yes, my love? What can I do for you?”
“My uncle is picking me up today,” he smiled excitedly.
“Oh yeah? Is he taking you trick or treating?”
He nodded excitedly, his little construction hat bobbling back and forth. “Do you want to meet him?” He asked shyly.
“Of course, Milo,” she grinned. “I have to tell him what a great reader you’re becoming and how good you are at line leading,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He took her hand and pulled her toward the exit. As they approached the end of the bus port, she had a better view of Harry. His coworkers booking it out before they got stuck behind busses but not him. She felt a smile twinge on her lips as she waved goodbye to other little ones that wanted her attention.
“Well, hello there.”
She nearly froze in her tracks. Her gaze snapped forward at the sound of his voice. Milo’s hand released hers and he launched himself forward at the man before her. “Careful of your shoes on my clothes, buddy,” he chuckled. “Funny seeing you here,” he ruffled Milo’s hair and winked at her.
“This is Miss Bee,” Milo introduced.
“Miss Bird, I thought,” he continued smiling at her. But it felt like she was watching a documentary of a safari. She felt like a gazelle completely at the disadvantage.
“Miss Bee is a nickname,” Milo explained.
She must have looked like a goldfish, her mouth opening and closing trying to find the words. A deer in headlights if there ever was one. “So you’re the famous Miss Bee,” he chuckled. Like it was a private joke that only he knew the punchline too.
For a moment, she forgot she was a teacher. A member of the town community with a reputation she needed to uphold. She wanted to run away. Or slap him across the face. Yank Milo out of his arms and take him home with her instead. There was no way she could let sweet, little Milo out trick-or-treating with the likes of his uncle. But instead, she mustered as much strength as she did when she wasn’t feeling well, when she was exhausted, or when her life outside the classroom was falling apart and she was expected to continue smiling in front of her little group of young minds. She plastered a smile on her face and pretended everything was fine as she finally spoke, “Evan.”
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Warning: like two seconds of blood and then fluff and angsty shit
Summary: “Hi, Miss Bee,” he greeted so brightly she thought she might melt. He was so happy to see her it made her stomach twist. “I was hoping you’d be gone, but s’nice t’see you anyway,” he said stepping inside.
She bit the inside of her lip. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, s’Friday,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
It wasn’t lunch time, so Harry wasn’t standing by the fence like a certified creep. “Mr. Harry!” Someone shouted. He instinctively turned toward the field and found the gaggle of cuties lined up at the edge of the field. How he didn’t hear them approach was beyond him.
They were led by none other than the cutest woman of all. Today she wore a long green jacket. Black pants peeked out from it. Her coat had a tie fabric cinching her waist. Harry never paid much attention to what his date wore, but everything on her made her look three times as adorable if it were even possible.
He gave a wave, heading over to the group. “Hey everyone,” he greeted. “Early recess?” He asked.
They all glanced at her making sure it was okay to answer. “Go ahead, you know what to say,” she encouraged.
Harry remembered Amara (the little girl who bent her neck back at an incredible angle to chat with him last week) as she stepped forward to look up at him once more. “Miss Bee said our sandwich party is going to be on Halloween. So you can dress up as your dream job.”
He smirked and glanced at her. “What if this is m’dream job?” Because there wasn’t a world in which it wasn’t. Not if fate and destiny put him precisely at her side just because he got this job. It was the best job in the world.
They looked at her again. “That’s okay,” she affirmed with a laugh.
“Sometimes Miss Bee has silly rules, so we have to check.”
“I beg your pardon, they’re not silly!” She frowned with mock annoyance.
“Mr. Niall can come too!” Another one said excitedly.
“We’ve been really good in math too, so we get to ask you question too!” Kai bounced with energy that seemed quite misplaced in asking two construction workers about their jobs.
“Janie, do you want to give Mr. Harry what you brought?”
Harry watched as another little girl stepped forward. She held two folded pieces of construction paper, and she handed them up and toward Harry at the fence. “It’s made out of construction paper. Like your job,” she said explained as if Harry hadn’t a clue what it was. “One’s for Mr. Niall too.”
“Miss Bee wrote the cover part and then we all got to make a page each.”
Harry was enthralled with the cover. It had her extremely beautiful handwriting. Though he was pretty sure every little thing she did was beautiful. There were 3-D stickers of Halloween items placed sporadically across the page but still maintained a fun holiday aesthetic.
Please join us for our Halloween Sand-Witch party. Wednesday, October 31st at 11:45 AM. Please RSVP to Miss Bee and let her know if you have any allergies.
He flipped quickly seeing a variety of hand-drawn pictures. The drawings could only be himself and Niall munching on sandwiches the following week at their party. Along with a variety of varying six-year-old signatures, and so forth.
Harry smiled, his eye catching hers. This was almost as good as asking her on a date and hearing her say yes. A handwritten invitation was a dream come true. It didn’t matter to him in the slightest that the little party was going to be spent with twenty kindergarteners and his best friend either. Because she was going to be there dressed as something adorable, he was sure, and he couldn’t wait.
“We’d love t’attend,” he told them. She smiled shyly as the little ones cheered.
“Alright, Kindergarten... it’s time we head back now that the guys are invited,” she waved to Harry. “Say see you later to Mr. Harry.”
“See you later alligator!” Someone shouted, causing the rest to giggle uncontrollably.
She shook her head and smiled fondly at her group of funny children and headed back toward the school building peering back to catch Harry’s eye again.
*
On Friday, she was preparing for the following week as always. It had been raining hard all day long, so Under Construction wasn’t next door. Moreover, there was no outdoor recess so there was no way she would have seen him anyway. It made her miss Harry.
It seemed a little ridiculous that she would fall so quickly for an almost total stranger. Especially when she was so cautious about falling for anyone after Evan.
She met Evan while out with friends for a birthday dinner. He said he was drawn to her, a moth to a flame, the whole bit. He told her she was pretty, lovely, sweet, etc. Evan was handsome, talented, and funny. At first, he was excessively kind. Flowers every week, asked her to move in only three months in, told her he couldn’t live without her.
He worked for a financial company. One that made him a lot of money so he could afford a big house—bigger than two people without kids conceivably needed. But it was for their future. Evan’s job required many business meetings and parties that left her feeling completely drained socially and financially. Every party required a new fancy outfit that she didn’t want to pay for. He made her go to golfing fundraisers (even though she hated golf) and helped him with parties at his place for clients and partners alike.
All while she tried to get her bearings in her first two years of teaching.
Evan never attended a school event. He didn’t help her move her furniture in her classroom. He didn’t understand why she would go to work on days she wasn’t getting paid to set things up. He didn’t get that the magic inside a classroom happened outside of school hours, and it was well worth the time she put into it. There was no help from him putting bulletin boards together and he certainly wouldn’t be caught dead on her colorful carpet laminating on a Tuesday afternoon.
She finished her planning and clicked into another tab on her computer to look at the to-do lists that never seemed to get any shorter. She had a section for classroom improvements, stain her bookshelves, inquire about fixing the outlets, find more shelving, paint her rocking chair, and more. There was so much.
After their breakup—the one instigated by Evan because she was spending too much time at school—she moved into a tiny little house on her own. It was no more than a one-bedroom apartment. Just enough space for herself and she loved it, but it also needed so much work. There was the roof that leaked in the rain in the same spot, one of the stove burners didn’t work, one of the windows in the living room was so stiff shut she couldn’t move it. Her bedroom seemed poorly insulated and was freezing in the winter, the tile flooring in her bathroom was cracked in several places. But it was home. The cutest little place she had ever seen. The living room was filled with books, and the dining table was a spot for her tutoring sessions.
The kitchen always smelled like cookies or brownies. Things that she brought to her parent’s house on Wednesday evenings when she, her siblings, and anyone available in her family gathered for a meal together. Her sister’s fiancée begged for muffins at least once a month and she smirked at the thought.
There wasn’t enough time and there wasn’t enough energy she could muster to fix her place up. There were more pressing matters. Trying to eat well, exercise, get her master’s degree. Visiting her parents and helping her sister with her wedding. It was exhausting.
She was jolted from her thoughts by a knock on her outside door. She put a hand on her heart, not anticipating a knock as it was downpouring. It was four-thirty in the afternoon on a Friday. All her co-workers hightailed it out of there shortly after the buses had left. Slowly, cautiously, she walked over to the door seeing Harry smiling in the small window. He had a black raincoat on, the hood keeping his pretty face from getting wet.
Immediately she opened the door. “Hi, Miss Bee,” he greeted so brightly she thought she might melt. He was so happy to see her it made her stomach twist. “I was hoping you’d be gone, but s’nice t’see you anyway,” he said stepping inside.
She bit the inside of her lip. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, s’Friday,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Sorry ‘bout m’coat,” he frowned as it dripped on the floor. “S’raining cats and dogs out there,” he shrugged out of the coat and snapped it outside, a tiny little overhang keeping it the smallest bit dry. He slung it on the back of an upturned chair on one of her tables, so it dripped below to the floor. He frowned and headed toward the bathroom for paper towels. “I’ll take care of this before we leave,” he promised placing a bunch of towels below the dripping coat.
She stared at him. “What are you doing here, Harry?”
He turned slightly, smiling up at her while he knelt next to his watery mess. “S’Friday, wanted t’see what y’needed help with for next week.”
She blinked. “But... you didn’t work today.”
“As a matter of fact, I did work. I had a meeting about our progress and talked to suppliers about materials and such,” he said proudly, the dimples indenting his cheeks.
“Oh... I meant... outside,” she shook her head. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
He chuckled quietly as she tried to back track. “S’fine, Bird. I knew what y’meant. Don’t worry ‘bout it. No, ‘course with the rain it puts us back a day or two, so I had t’be productive in other ways.”
There was something wrong with her, because that was one of the hottest sentences she had ever heard anyone say and he was merely talking about productivity.
“Um...” she swallowed. “I don’t need... you didn’t... you came all the way here?”
“S’not too far from m’place actually,” he said with a shrug. He headed toward her desk to see her little piles of what needed to be accomplished. He hoped to find something labeled Monday, or maybe something that needed to be cut or stapled together. Instead, he found her to-do list opened on her computer. “What’s this?” He asked, glancing at her screen.
“Oh... don’t look at that, they’re... they’re nothing. Just... they’re my to-do—”
“Your roof leaks?” He asked looking up at her in shock. He also looked completely hurt. Like it was unimaginable that she kept that from him. “Bird, why didn’t you say something? I would have—”
“Stop,” she put her hand on her chest feeling it ache with want for him. Adoration for him. Something that felt dangerously close to the feelings she had when she first started dating Evan and he brought her flowers every week. “Harry,” she said softly. “I am so appreciative of you coming down here and helping me, but you don’t have to. It’s likely I can’t reciprocate or—”
His eyes dropped to her computer again scanning the list, ignoring her and wondering what else she needed done. “Bird, you’re cold?” He asked. She felt like she was in trouble. Her throat tightening over the emotion she felt. It was a long day—but all of them were long. Her weeks felt endless. And she was cold. So lonely in that cold, damp, tiny place she lived no matter how much she loved it. “Kitten,” he whispered quietly.
“Stop,” she begged. “Please stop.”
“Bird,” he frowned. “Y’should have said something. I can bring Niall t’look at it, we can fix it up in a minute—”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Harry, I’m begging; please stop.”
“No,” he shook his head. “Y’would never let one of your students have a problem like this,” he turned from her computer, strode across the room to her, and put a hand on her hip while pulling her toward him. She looked away from him, ignored the sparks that burst from the touch on her waist. She shook her head.
“It’s not important.”
He gently touched her cheek turning her gaze back to him. His finger resting beneath her chin. “You’re not important?” He questioned. “Y’know how ridiculous y’sound, right? I’ve known you less than a month and I think y’might be the most important person I know.”
She swallowed and shrugged. “There’s more pressing matters,” she whispered. “I have this classroom to worry about and little minds to mold. My sister’s getting married, and my mom needs—”
“All that is more pressing than y’not catching a cold?”
“I-I... I’m not going to... I don’t—”
He rubbed his thumb across her lip making all of the words in her head disappear. “Bird, you’re going t’make yourself sick.”
Was this what it was supposed to feel like? In all the time she dated Evan, there wasn’t much worry about her. It was usually a worry about what she wasn’t doing or couldn’t do because she was busy. There was never a worry about stretching herself too thin or making her do more because he wanted her to be part of his stuff.
One lone tear rolled down her cheek and she shook her head immediately, moving his hand from her face in hopes he wouldn’t notice. But of course, he did. “Hey,” he whispered gently. “Bird, my love,” his voice was so soft it made her feel warm again. “Hey,” he cooed, “C’mere,” he tucked her to his chest, kissed the top of her head like it was an everyday occurrence. Like it wasn’t the first time his lips touched her. “It’s okay,” he hummed. God, he was so warm. Is this what it was supposed to feel like? Was this how she was supposed to feel when someone cared about her and all the little things she neglected to speak into existence?
She sniffled, wiping at her face while Harry calmly soothed her. His hand rubbed up and down her back. The last time she remembered someone soothing her like this had to be when she was a child and her dad was trying to comfort her over a broken toy or missing her mum on a work trip.
“Sorry,” she sniveled. “I think I’m just really overwhelmed.”
“I’ll say,” he agreed.
She rolled her lips into her mouth and pulled away from him even though it was a hundred times colder than her bedroom ever could be outside the circle of his arms. “Sometimes I just need to cry and be dramatic,” she admitted and wiped her eyes.
Harry was looking at her like she was going to have a breakdown at any moment. He wanted to wrap her back up in his arms but part of him was a afraid he might not ever let her go. “I don’t think y’being dramatic, kitten,” his voice was still very soft. Like he was worried he’d set her off somehow. “Think y’might jus’ be a little too not dramatic, actually.”
She took a deep breath. “My house is fine, really. It’s not a big leak. It’s only when it rains,” as if to make matters worse it thundered loudly outside. She winced while Harry just stared at her.
“This ex of yours, was he handy at all?” He asked and moved to the table where piles were made, and he finally found something labeled Monday. He grabbed a pair of scissors and started cutting the paper; sitting on the floor like he did on Tuesday. Like it was no big deal that he came out in the middle of a thunderstorm to help her on a day he didn’t work next door.
“No,” she shook her head. “He just hired people.”
But she left out telling him about only hiring when it was convenient for him. “Hmm.”
“I actually know a lot about fixing things up,” she admitted. “Not nearly to the degree that you do. I need a lot of YouTube videos and time I sincerely do not have to execute it, but I installed our dishwasher on my own. And I pulled up some carpet and put some flooring down in our dining room.
She swore Harry was smiling proudly at her. Like he had taught her or something. “S’very lovely, kitten. S’good t’know how t’do those kinds of things... but I wouldn’t have let y’lift a finger t’do it.” It was like he sucked all the air out of her body and for a moment she really felt frozen. Harry continued cutting paper and pretending like he hadn’t just rendered her lungs useless. “We still on for Sunday afternoon?” He asked.
She nodded. “You’re still going to come to the party on Wednesday even if it’s the worst date of your life?” She asked. “I will have a really hard time explaining it to the kids if you don’t.”
He chuckled. “M’certain it’ll be the best date of m’life, but yes. I’ll be there Wednesday,” he assured her.
“Thank you, Harry,” she whispered and sat beside him.
Harry wasn’t dressed in his typical construction gear. Instead, he wore jeans, a pair of sneakers, and a cozy sweatshirt. He smiled at her. “Course, Bird.”
*
The thunder was loud. Practically, shaking the small frame of her house. Sighing, she looked up at the ceiling unable to see anything in the dark until the lightning illuminated her room. Her phone said it was only after one in the morning. Much too early or late to do anything but try and fall back asleep.
Sighing again, she got out of bed and headed to her bathroom before making a stop in the kitchen for a glass of water. As soon as she stepped in the kitchen, her foot was met with a puddle.
Her heart pounded. “No, no, no, fuck,” she hissed and smacked the light switch on the wall. She put a hand to her mouth as the leak was now a definitive hole in the middle of her ceiling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She hurried back to the bedroom grabbing her phone and dialing Louis as quickly as she could. As she listened to it ring longer than she wanted to (but couldn’t blame Louis for not answering so early in the morning), she grabbed pots and pans out of her cabinets catching as much rain as she could.
“’Lo?” he yawned. Exhausted, clearly. It was one in the morning. The poor thing probably didn’t want to get out of bed in the pouring rain, but she didn’t know what else to do... she didn’t have a choice.
“Louis, I,” she gasped. “I need help, please!”
“What’s wrong?” He asked quickly. “El, baby,” he hummed off to the side of his phone. “Get your coat,” he mumbled.
“What’s happening?” She moaned.
“Shh,” he hushed. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked. “Are you alright?”
“My ceiling!”
“Ah fuck,” he grumbled. Louis immediately knew what the issue was. “I should have—”
“Louis, I don’t have time for I-Told-You-Sos. Hurry up!” She begged and watched as another chunk of her ceiling fell to the floor. It wasn’t a huge hole, but if she hadn’t gotten up it was going to cave in her ceiling for sure by morning.
“Alright, alright, we’re on the way.”
*
Harry was dreaming. The pretty kindergarten teacher was in his house, drinking tea, and relaxing. It was adorable. Her smile was so sweet. No evidence of sadness or exhaustion on her face. He wanted to die seeing her upset that afternoon. But there was only so much he could do.
But she wasn’t upset right then. His dream made her giggly, like when her students made her laugh. She was wearing a pretty pink dress, it brought out the warmth in her. It wasn’t short, of course, but she wore leggings beneath it and she looked so cozy. “Hi Miss Bee,” he chuckled approaching her. “Did you have a good day?”
“Mhmm... come here,” she patted the sofa beside her. “I missed you.”
It was music to his ears.
“Missed you t—”
His phone nearly sent him into an early grave waking him from the dead of sleep. He slapped his hand out and smacked it off the nightstand. “Shit,” he whispered grabbing it. It was an unknown number and normally he’d ignore it, but he had never gotten a call in the middle of the night. “Hello?”
“Oh thank God,” Eleanor sighed. “Harry, I’m so sorry to bother you. Her ceiling. It’s got a hole in it and she’s freaking out and it’s raining so bad, and we have no idea what to do, can you help us?”
He knew he should have checked it out.
“Yeah, yeah, course, jus’ send me the address.”
“I already did,” Harry put the phone on speaker and checked the message while he rifled through his drawer for clothes to wear in the rain. He felt his heart skip a beat to know she was only a five-minute drive away.
“M’five minutes away once I get m’shoes on.”
“You’ll beat us there, thank you, so, so much.”
Harry called Niall immediately. “I was sleeping,” he groaned.
“M’sending you an address. Miss Bee’s got a roof situation.”
“Shit, in this weather?”
“I’ll be there in five. Bring anything y’can think of.”
*
The rain was not letting up. The thunder and lightning only added to the shitty night she was having. She ran from her house to the small shed in the back corner of her yard to find something useful. Louis would be a few minutes, and she really didn’t want to wait a second longer than she needed to.
With a small flashlight between her teeth, she found the ladder that would be large enough to get her on her roof. She awkwardly held it as she walked back toward the house, propping it against the side.
Her raincoat wasn’t doing anything. It was going to feel downright tropical in her room when she got back inside. Everything was so terrible right then, she just wanted to cry, and she couldn’t because there wasn’t even time to have a meltdown. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered to herself entering the shed once more. She found a tarp. She hadn’t a clue how she would get it to stay down but it was something. It’s not like she had time to find a YouTube video on it either.
In addition to the tarp, she grabbed a hammer, tucked it into the waistband of her pants. Then she snagged a box of nails and put them in her coat pocket before she made her way back to her leaky house. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered.
She climbed the ladder, it was slippery and terrified her, but what choice did she have. She had a flashlight between her teeth and the tarp under her arm. This was a horrible idea, but it was one in the morning and nothing made more sense than this.
The thunder was so loud, and the only light came from a streetlamp just a little too far away from her house to be useful. She slowly climbed onto the roof and felt her heart hammering hard against her chest. She took a deep breath through her nose and climbed further onto the roof. It was slippery, wet, and cold. Her fingers felt frozen as she moved her way up toward where the leak was. She unfolded the tarp and placed it so it would flip over toward the front of her house and the rain would slide over the hole and nothing would get under it. It was a little relieving to have a plan, but it was very short-lived.
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
The sound of someone else shouting at her brought her practically to a stop; she dropped the flashlight and lost her footing. She grabbed at the tarp, the shingles, anything to stop her from sliding off her house and into the yard. “Shit!” She barely had time to scream while she clawed for something to get a purchase. Her roof wasn’t particularly tall (she wasn’t living in a mansion by any stretch), but she imagined a ten-foot fall in the rain would probably result in a broken bone or two. In her slide, the hammer dug into her hip, certainly it was going to leave a bruise. She was lucky the nails were in the box, or she suspected she’d have an ER trip this early morning as well as a roof to repair.
Fortunately, her hands snagged onto the gutter before she made her final descent to the ground. The metal clanging and moaning as it pulled from the house with her dead weight hanging onto it. It hurt her fingers, her left middle finger definitely felt like it was cut on some part of the metal lip she clung to. “Let go,” the voice ordered from behind her.
She gasped. Tried to turn and look at who was bossing her around in the middle of the night. “I—”
“Bird, let go of your fucking house, now.”
Her heart managed to flutter once it recognized Harry’s voice. Just his voice made her feel safe and she felt infinitely better about her situation. It was a painful realization because Harry didn’t need this. From here it was only a five to six foot drop and less likely to hurt her, but she was still exhausted, tired, and certain with her luck she’d land on a rock and break an ankle.
So, despite all instinct, she released the gutter with nothing else but hope she wouldn’t hurt herself upon her landing in her yard.
Instead, she fell into his arms. Harry caught her, cradling her briefly and absorbing the impact of her fall by bending slightly while catching her. Before she had a mere second to be in his arms and think it through, he placed her on her feet with ease.
“What the hell were you thinking?!” He snapped. “Are you insane?” His anger didn’t match his gentle touch as he cupped her face. His hands then dropped to her arms and moved further south to her waist and hips as he scanned her for injury. It was still near pitch dark if it weren’t for the headlight he had on his forehead. The light scanned her like a laser as she gaped at his presence. “Are you okay, bird?” His voice was softer this time.
“How... how did you...?” She stared at him in disbelief that he was really truly there.
“Eleanor called me,” he stated. “What were y’doing on a roof in the rain by yourself?” He asked, his voice turning harsh again. She had never heard him sound anything but kind and sweet. The anger was almost terrifying.
“I-I, my roof—”
“You scared me t’death,” he yanked her to him, her face pressing to his chest. She swore she could feel his heartbeat through his clothes, over the sound of the pouring rain and the thunder in the distance. “Jesus, bird,” he grumbled, squeezing her tight. “I should have looked at it this afternoon, m’so sorry,” he murmured. “So, so sorry,” he repeated quietly. “Niall’s almost here, we’re gonna fix it up. Jus’... go inside and stay warm, please,” he pleaded pulling away from her, keeping a hand on her face for a moment as he scanned her once more.
“But—”
“Jus’ go inside, bird. S’fine. I’ll take care of it.”
She blinked, rain water was streaming over her face as she tried to figure out what to do next. Wincing, she pulled the hammer from her waistband as it skimmed the sensitive bruise that was definitely forming as she stood there. Then she took the box of nails from her pocket. “Not sure if these are useful,” she offered quietly.
His eyes looked so sad, so displeased. She wanted to cry. “Resourceful,” he murmured.
She nodded silently. “I’m... I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Go inside, bird, please.”
As she turned away toward her door, Niall was suddenly there. A matching headlight to Harry’s also on his forehead. “Hey Miss Bee,” Niall smirked as if this was normal to meet up with her in her backyard at one in the morning. “Having fun?”
“Loads,” Harry deadpanned. She felt flushed as she didn’t answer Niall. He winked at her and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Go inside, love. Please.”
She bit the inside of her lip and headed in. She dumped the filled pots and pans into her sink, and she grabbed towels from the linen closet. Everyone and everything was going to be soaked.
“Good morning, sunshine! Fancied a bath in the kitchen, did you?” Eleanor chirped cheerfully as she entered. Like it wasn’t one in the morning, and her house wasn’t falling apart. But her smile quickly morphed into a frown at the sight of her wet friend dripping, cold, and so completely defeated in the eyes. “Aw, sweetie,” she whispered.
A lone sob escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth, except she forgot about the cut on her finger. She winced at the slight pain and sting. “Goddammit!” She snapped and dropped her head to her other hand and cried.
Eleanor made her way to her, gently tugging her coat off her body. “It’s alright,” she promised. “You’re okay, babe,” she reminded her. “It’s just a little hole... Harry and Niall will take care of it,” she brushed her hand over her hair soothingly.
She sniffled. “Today was not a good day,” she whispered.
“Well, technically it’s tomorrow, and I imagine at one in the morning, it can only go up from here,” she said positively. She snorted and shook her head.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
Eleanor smiled. Above them she could hear the muffled sounds of Niall and Harry working together to repair her roof in the rain. The thunder and lightning didn’t change pace. “You clean up your hand, I’ll take care of the kitchen,” she said softly. “Go change, clean up, and brush your hair. He may be in love with you, but you would kill me if he saw you with your wet, rainy bed head,” she teased.
She snorted again and even though she didn’t want to trouble Eleanor, she listened and headed to the bathroom.
*
Louis wasn’t as helpful as Niall and Harry, but he was able to hold an additional flashlight and hand items to them as needed. Once the tarp was in place (with an added piece of rubber over top of it that Niall had brought from home) Louis helped clean up their tools and materials. He brought the ladder back to her shed while their belongings went back to their cars. Once everything was cleaned up and they were confident her roof wouldn’t leak for the remainder of the night, Louis guided them inside the small house of his best friend.
“Thanks boys,” Eleanor smiled happily in the kitchen. She was by the sink drying off pots and pans that she clearly washed.
But Harry was scanning for the pretty kindergarten teacher, clearly. Eleanor glanced down the hall suspiciously and Harry followed her gaze. “You okay in there, babe? The guys are inside, now!”
“Just trying to get my band aid to stay,” she called back.
“Niall, can we get you some tea?” Louis asked while Harry moved toward the sound of her voice. He knocked quietly on the only closed door in the little hall assuming it must be her bathroom.
“Bird?”
There was a quiet sigh from inside. “Crap,” he heard her whisper. But then the door opened.
God, she was pretty. Even sad. Even a little banged up, wet, and tired, she was gorgeous, really. Harry was in awe of her.
“Can you—” she sighed heavily. The cut wasn’t just to her middle finger as she thought but across her index and ring fingers too. Harry gently pushed inside the bathroom, holding her shoulders and guiding her to on the closed toilet lid as he looked at the array of band aid wrappers that had fluttered to the floor. He pulled the head lamp off and shrugged out of his wet coat just like he had less than twelve hours ago in her classroom, he hung it on the back of the bathroom door hook where her towel usually hung.
Silently he bandaged her up, pausing only slightly when she winced in pain from the antibacterial spray he put on her cut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Y’have nothing t’apologize for,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
“It’s alright, you were scared. I would have done the same thing. I was scared too.”
He completed the bandages on her hand. Carefully, he cupped the side of her face, his thumb brushing on her cheek as he gently tilted her gaze up to meet him. “Don’t ever do something dangerous like that again,” his voice was very quiet, but none less serious.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Thank you, so much. Really.”
“Course, bird. Told you. M’at your service,” he reminded her. She smiled shyly, and Harry was almost certain he didn’t imagine the way she leant into his palm that cupped her very pretty face. For a moment it wasn’t one in the morning, her roof wasn’t a mess, and Harry was only there because he wanted to be, not because he had to be.
*
“You can stay here,” she said to Louis and Eleanor as she walked into the kitchen. “It’s late.”
“Already pulled the sofa out and got sheets,” Eleanor said with a yawn. She walked away from the sink and made herself comfy on the sofa. Louis chuckled and headed after her.
“Good night, everyone. Thanks for helping Miss Kindergarten.”
“You guys are welcome to stay as well, I have a couple air mattresses,” she offered to Niall and Harry.
“In the morning, she’ll make muffins,” Louis called out quietly.
Niall yawned but shook his head. “M’good to head home, Miss Bee. Thank you though. If there’s a problem again, call Harry and we’ll come over again. We’re going to fix it tomorrow when the rain lets up, yeah?”
She nodded. There was no use arguing. At least not right now. “Thank you,” she sighed. “Text Harry when you get home,” she said sweetly as he exited, the door closing quietly.
Harry grinned while he sipped on a cup of warm tea. That was very sweet of her wanting to know about Niall’s safety. She turned back to Harry. “I can set up an air mattress. I’d rather stay in case something happens to the tarp,” he offered.
“Jesus, just sleep in her bed, you’re both grown adults,” Eleanor groaned.
Her face turned the color of the pants he liked most on her—the ones she wore the day they met. He smiled softly, shook his head as he sipped his tea again so he wouldn’t let on how much he liked that idea.
“El, shh,” Louis whispered. “That was an inside thought. Go to sleep,” he mumbled.
Harry couldn’t help but show his smile and he looked at her almost apologetically on Eleanor’s behalf. “Air mattress?”
“Babe, it’s so loud,” Eleanor whined.
“Shut. Up,” she hissed.
“I can sleep on the floor,” he offered with a chuckle.
“Absolutely not,” she whispered and grabbed his hand. She tugged him down the hall to her bedroom. She flicked the light on and Harry inspected the little room with awe. A closet opposite the wall of three windows with gray colored curtains with an intricate lace design. Her bed resided in the middle of the wall with a fluffy green comforter that looked warm and cozy. Beside it was a nightstand, filled with books, a water cup, and her phone. There was a plush gray carpet that extended beyond her bed frame and into most of the room taking up 80% of the floor.
Her dresser looked old, reminded him of her desk and shelving in her classroom. There was a mirror propped up behind it or on it, he couldn’t be sure. Pictures surrounded the frame of it and on the surface was a beautiful, almost antique jewelry box.
None of her furniture matched. He figured it was subject to her yard sale ways as well. “I like your room,” he said.
She sighed. “A work in progress.”
He smiled. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
He frowned instantly. “Bird,” he sighed and brought his hand to the side of her neck. He brushed his thumb on her cheek again. “Everything’s okay.”
“I’m just... not having a good day,” she whispered looking away from him. “I’m sorry. I feel so bad for bothering you this late and my room is freezing cold, and you should just go so you don’t get sick from the rain and this icebox,” but Harry couldn’t help but notice she didn’t move from his touch.
A sad smile graced his lips and eyes. He was so handsome it made her stomach do back flips. “Jus’ lay down, bird,” he said softly.
“Harry, it’s freezing—”
“Get in the bed, love,” he was a little firmer, but no less soft in his approach. He gently nudged her forward. Poor thing must have been exhausted because she willingly let him tuck her in, rubbing her arms gently for friction and warmth.
Turning back to the doorway, he clicked the light off bathing them in darkness. Silently he stripped out of his wet clothes. “M’jus’ gonna get between the sheet and the comforter,” he assured her. “No funny business, bird. Need a proper date,” he teased.
She snorted and turned on her side away from him. Maybe her room was cold. But it was very warm beside her in bed. “Thank you, Harry.”
“Of course,” he murmured toward her frame still faced away from him. He smiled at the shadow of her that he could only vaguely make out when the lightning peeped through the space in her curtains between windows. “Anything for you Miss Bird.”
*
When she woke up, she was sweating.
Harry was snuggled behind her, his arm draped across her body, the sheet the only barrier between her and him. He was still asleep, at least she was pretty sure. His breathing made it seem that way. He felt warm and good, even if she was sweating. “Mm,” he hummed and tightened his grip on her. She smiled softly to herself and let him hold her for a minute. It was perhaps too hot, too cozy, and definitely not what she should have done. But it was nice and safe. Harry made her feel incredibly safe.
After a few minutes of blissful resting, she carefully lifted his arm off her and snuck out of bed. He didn’t stir too much other than gripping her pillow and holding it close. She looked away before she climbed in beside him again. She tiptoed across the room to her dresser, pulling the bottom drawer open slowly so it didn’t make noise from getting stuck on the uneven swells of old wood. She found a pair of sweatpants that she bought at least two sizes too large that would fit Harry’s frame along with a sweatshirt she got back in college from a friend’s ex-boyfriend. She left the clothes on the bed beside her sleeping partner peacefully dreaming and drooling onto her pillow.
She grinned to herself and made her way to the door, stopping at his pile of wet clothes trying her best to avoid the parts of her old floor that creaked with her weight. She quickly opened and closed her door without letting it squeak or whine—so Harry could sleep in peace.
She turned to the washer and dryer in the small closet beside her bathroom, tossing his clothes inside the dryer. Next, she headed to the kitchen. Louis was sitting up on the sofa, Eleanor snuggled into his lap. He was scrolling on his phone and combing his fingers through her hair. She smiled fondly at her best friend and gave a silent wave.
“She’s awake, you can talk,” he said quietly.
“Mm, debatable,” El grumbled.
She smirked and headed outside barefoot. It wasn’t as cold as it was last night, and the sun was starting to appear. She stepped further back in the yard to get a whole picture view of her roof. Crossing her arms at her stomach she sighed. Louis joined her (wearing shoes, however) he faced the house with her and he draped an arm around her shoulders.
“Harry said you almost fell off the roof. You got up there yourself?”
“I knew you were on the way,” she mumbled. But her gutter looked a little misshapen from her fall. Something else that would need to be fixed in addition to her tarped roof. “I figured I’d get a head start.”
“If I found you knocked unconscious in your garden, I would have lost my mind,” Louis stated.
“It needed to be done—”
“Irrelevant,” he shook his head and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t do that again.”
“Harry already gave me this lecture.”
“Good.”
She sighed. “I should just sell it and rent an apartment,” she mumbled. “I don’t have the time or energy to fix it up. It’ll be a loss, but—”
“You love this place,” Louis reminded her.
“I do, but at what cost? You were right, I should have fixed the leak when I first noticed it.”
“How did that taste in your mouth? Saying I’m right?” He smirked and gave her a squeeze.
“Like vinegar.... meanie,” she grumbled.
“This is your house. You can do whatever you want with it. If you want to sell it, you know I’ll help you. But you don’t have to. I’m sure there’s someone that would love to help you fix it up,” he grinned. As if on cue, Harry appeared in her backyard, rubbing his eye. “Good morning, Harry, how did you sleep?”
“Like a rock,” he murmured. He was wearing the outfit she selected for him, and she felt her heart skip. He followed her and Louis into the yard, the laces of his work boots untied. “No shoes?” He asked, glancing at her feet.
“I’m only going to be out here a second,” she assured him.
“She’s not really a shoe person,” Louis told him. “She’s a summer girl because of work,” he explained.
“I could see that,” he smirked and looked at her house. “Looks like the tarp held,” he put his hands into the pockets as he assessed the damage the same as her.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Thank you.”
“M’pleasure.”
“I’m going to get El a little more mobile so she can help you with the muffins,” Louis offered. “We can go for a coffee run too,” he pulled away from her with another kiss to the top of her head. “Harry, tea? Coffee?”
“Tea, please,” he nodded.
Harry stood beside her, their arms brushing as she looked her house over. “That was stupid of me,” she said quietly. “Going up there alone in the dark.”
“Not stupid. Y’were jus’ trying t’fix it.”
She sighed. “When will Niall be here?”
“Soon as he stops t’get me more clothes,” he smirked.
“I’m sorry. This is an awful way to spend a Saturday. I can find someone—”
“Bird, jus’ let me do it,” he chuckled. “M’begging you.”
“You’re sure, it’s not a bother?”
“Course not,” he promised.
“I don’t know how, but I’ll make it up to you.”
He grinned. “C’mon, let’s get you inside before y’lose a toe.”
*
The roof was repaired in a few hours. She could hear Niall and Harry laughing while she let her muffins bake. Eleanor and Louis helped her clean up a little more and eventually the pair came down from the roof. “All set, Miss Bee,” Niall grinned.
“Thank you,” she sighed. “Thank you so much, here let me—” She attempted to hand Niall money, but he put his hands up in front of him like she was trying to stab him with a knife.
“Absolutely not. It’s on the house.”
“Literally,” Louis chuckled.
“Boo...” El rolled her eyes.
She looked at Harry nervously. “Don’t even think ‘bout it, bird,” he warned.
Pouting, she put the money back in her purse and then held out the plate of muffins that had finished onto the counter. “Here,” she offered. “The blueberry white chocolate chip ones are the best.”
“Don’t be mean to my cranberry walnut,” Eleanor said protectively.
She smiled. “Chocolate chip is by far superior, my love,” Louis said knowingly, and they took their muffins to the sofa bed.
Niall snagged one of each, with an impish smile and followed her friends. Harry stood opposite her at the counter. “We still on for tomorrow?”
“You still want to see me? After this whole catastrophe of a week?”
He nodded, picking the baking cup off his muffin with a smile. “God, yeah.”
“You might be a little crazy.”
“M’definitely a little crazy ‘bout you, bird.”
“That will be seven days in a row of seeing me.”
“A perfect week, in m’opinion,” he ripped a piece of the top of the muffin off and popped it into his mouth. “Mm,” he sighed. “Blueberry is definitely m’favorite,” he smiled.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” She asked.
He grinned. “I thought y’might want t’stick to something simple. Jus’ lunch. We can walk around the park if it’s nice out,” he offered. “But s’also Sunday so m’sure y’want some time t’rest, so I won’t keep you out forever.” That sounded highly unfair. Part of her didn’t want Harry to leave and she felt so ridiculous about saying it. Or maybe it was because he was so warm in her freezing cold room. “Lunch for sure.”
“Is it a fancy place? I just want to know what I should wear.”
“Not particularly,” he shook his head. “You can wear whatever you want,” he promised. “M’sure you’ll look stunning.”
Her face warmed with the compliment wondering for the millionth time why Harry would want to put her kindergarten chaos in his life. “M’with Eleanor, cranberry walnut is the winner,” Niall said around a mouthful of his breakfast treat.
“Told you!”
“Fine by me, I don’t have to share,” Louis said with a shrug.
Harry chuckled, gave her a wink, and headed to join the little group in her living room. Like he wasn’t stealing her heart and soul at all.
--
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Warning: a little angsty mayhaps. otherwise fluffy
Summary: “Interesting,” she practically sang. “He seems... friendly.”
“M-hmm.”
“Attractive,” Eleanor continued.
“Yup,” she nodded and scooped some dip onto her plate and grabbed a handful of chips. “What?” She asked, finally.
“Can I be maid of honor? Are you gonna invite your class to be part of your wedding? Do you want a summer wedding because it will be easier to plan around school?”
She sighed and ate her buffalo chicken dip as Eleanor rambled on about it. “It’s not happening.”
Louis and Eleanor were already sitting in their regular booth when she arrived. Her eyes were half closed despite the coffee she drank. “Oh, come on, babe, rally please,” Louis frowned at her approach. She sighed. She wanted to go home. As much as she loved her friends she was just drained and wanted to be alone.
“I love this dress,” Eleanor smiled excitedly.
She grinned weakly and dropped into the booth before putting her head on the table. “What did you order?” She asked.
“Buffalo chicken dip.”
“God Bless,” she sighed. “Did you order me a drink?”
“You sure you can drink in your condition?” Louis asked, lifting her arm and letting it flop lazily on the table.
“I’m rallying,” she mumbled into the wood.
“You can tell,” Eleanor patted the back of her hair. “How was your day?”
Her day was wonderful. She was sure she was going to get a cold any minute. The kids were behind in math because of a fire drill and there had been indoor recess for three days straight due to rain. It was madness and this Friday was the first reprieve in ages.
Plus, Harry came back around for the second week in a row to look at stuff around her classroom.
She hadn’t told Louis and Eleanor about the cute guy working next to her school. She knew Eleanor would be bursting at the seams and Louis would make one too many jokes about Harry and his tool(s).
She sat up and shook her head a bit before answering. Trying to perk herself up. Perhaps she should have ordered an espresso martini. Something with caffeine would have helped. “It was good, the kids are doing really well,” she nodded. “I’m a little worried about Milo socially, but overall, they’re a great group,” she said proudly. “I love them so much.”
“You always do,” Louis grinned almost as proudly as she did. He too thought his best friend was a superhero teaching little ones. Having grown up with a host of younger siblings, he knew how important teachers were. He couldn’t believe how kind, compassionate, and patient she was in every facet of her life. Watching his best friend do this made him more appreciative.
“Do you get to rest this weekend?” Eleanor asked.
But Louis also knew she devoted so much of her time in and out of the classroom to these sweet kids.
In theory, she would rest. But even on weekends she had a pretty packed schedule. There were errands, cleaning, laundry, and hopefully getting outside to enjoy the fall weather. “Yes,” she nodded. “One of my kids asked me to go to their soccer game tomorrow though, it’s at the school, so I figured I could swing by.”
“That’s kind of you,” Eleanor grinned. “Any dates in your future?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
She sighed. The thought of dating the handsome construction worker crossed her mind. But after her previous relationships, it just made more sense to be alone for the time being. Until she got her footing and found a balance that worked for her. It wouldn’t be long now; she was getting there. But these kids were her whole world, and she loved being there for them. They were young, adorable, and they valued those who showed up—especially if people in their lives weren’t showing up. “No dates.”
“Don’t remind me,” she sighed. “I’ve just been busy.”
“But it’s good for you. You don’t have to sleep with every guy, and you don’t have to marry the first guy you find,” El continued. “I know you love those kids and they’re your whole life; I get that. But the right guy will let you have that.”
“It’s hard,” she explained. “I don’t want it to be like last time,” she shrugged. It was so casual. As if it wasn’t the worst break up in the history of the world. If she pushed it down and didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t bother her like it used to. She wouldn’t worry about it.
“Bird?”
She nearly broke her neck with the way it snapped to the voice before she could stop it. Eleanor’s gaze turned to the sound as well. Her jaw dropping as Harry approached. He smiled that sweet, sexy way with the pretty dimples. He was wearing a polo shirt instead of his company’s T-shirt and his dark pants replaced the ever-present work ones he wore on the job site. His work boots were now just a pair of casual trainers. It was clear Harry would look hot in a trash bag, but part of her missed the construction outfit.
“Harry,” she said softly and standing outside the booth to greet him. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi, Bird,” he grinned a little brighter. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Um,” she shook her head. “These are my best friends: Louis and Eleanor,” she gestured. “This is Harry,” she said to them.
“Hi,” he waved briefly. “Did y’come right from school?” He asked, glancing at the dress he saw her in only hours before.
Well, yeah. She hadn’t anticipated anyone from work seeing her in the same outfit. “Um...yeah. I stopped at my sister’s house to help her with something. Didn’t leave time to change.”
“Y’look beautiful,” he said reassuringly, his smile unmoving from his face. She felt her face warm at the compliment knowing Eleanor was eating it up. “Jus’ wanted t’make sure y’weren’t there for hours and hours on your own.”
She bit the inside of her lip knowing that Louis and Eleanor were going to give her an earful as soon as he left. If he left. Fortunately, at that moment, the waitress came by and placed the buffalo chicken dip on the center of their table. Her stomach growled at the sight of it. “Do you two want to order a drink?” She asked of herself and Harry.
“Oh, I need another minute to look over the—” She started hoping it would give her a moment to rid her space of Harry. Not that she really wanted him to leave. But she didn’t want the first time seeing him outside her classroom to be overshadowed by her faux parental figures eating buffalo chicken dip with her who at any moment were going to go at it about the guy she was hiding from them.
“Harry, please sit,” Eleanor begged. “We never finish this with the three of us,” she continued.
Harry looked at her and noted the uneasiness clearly on her face as her two little worlds collided. “S’okay, thank you. M’here with m’friend Niall. Jus’ coming back from the bathroom and thought I saw you in y’pretty dress,” he winked. Her face felt hot, and she wondered if she was going to start sweating. She needed to have a bite of the dip in hopes of playing off the heat she felt spreading through her body. “I’ll see you Monday?” He pressed a hand to her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze before he said goodbye to her friends. As soon as he was out of ear and eye shot, she turned toward her booth with her friends and waited for the onslaught of questions.
“Who’s Harry?” Eleanor began crunching on a chip.
“Uh... he’s a construction worker. He’s the foreman on the job site next to the school.”
“How’d you meet?” Louis smiled excitedly.
“I had to show the kids all the scary noises, or I was never going to get anything done.”
“Oh,” Eleanor brightened. “When did you meet him?”
“Last week,” she admitted.
“Interesting,” she practically sang. “He seems... friendly.”
“M-hmm.”
“Attractive,” Eleanor continued.
“Yup,” she nodded and scooped some dip onto her plate and grabbed a handful of chips.
“How did he know you would be in your classroom for hours on end?” Louis asked. It was ridiculous she was making them practically beg for details, but she didn’t want to get their hopes up.
“Uh...” she sighed. “Janie may have told him that my desk was crooked, and if he could fix it that would be nice.” Louis and Eleanor grinned liked maniacs as they continued eating. She knew it was coming but she did her best to ignore their stares and insinuating smiles. “What?” She asked, finally.
“Can I be maid of honor? Are you gonna invite your class to be part of your wedding? Do you want a summer wedding because it will be easier to plan around school?”
She sighed and ate her buffalo chicken dip as Eleanor rambled on about it. “It’s not happening.”
“Why not?” She frowned.
For about ten thousand reasons. The main one being she wasn’t going to be in a relationship when she didn’t feel she could devote her time to it the way she needed to. Neither her nor whomever she decided to date deserved that. “You know why.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Louis rolled his eyes. “You spend a lot of time on your students, yes. But it’s no worse than a hobby like knitting or video games,” he said pointedly. She knew where it was headed because they had been having the same conversation since her breakup almost two years ago. “Evan wanted your attention when he had time for you, it’s no different. You shouldn’t let his stupid behavior or ideas get to you and dictate your dating life.”
She frowned around her next bite of chip and dip. Louis was right, to a degree, but Evan had some pretty decent points. She did spend a lot of time and energy on her kids to the point of ad nauseum. There was only so much someone probably wanted to hear about in a group of twenty random five- and six-year-olds.
When the waitress returned, she ordered her drink and finally felt her stomach pain relieved once the food settled in. She liked the music that was playing around the room. Nothing over the top, but people were dancing. This was one of her favorite spots. Not too casual, not too fancy. Not too clubby, but not too hole-in-the-wall either.
But she didn’t dare look around to find the handsome foreman roaming about the room.
After a few more questions about Harry, a conversation about dinner plans for the following week, family chat, a second drink (and a third), along with another app (this time fried pickles that she was pretty sure Eleanor and Louis only got two of total before she devoured them) and more chatter about her cute kids, the night seemed longer than she imagined she could last. The bill was placed on their table, and she frowned almost immediately.
“My drinks are missing,” she told the waitress.
“Oh, the gentleman that was here earlier insisted your drinks go on his tab,” she explained with a kind smile.
Her face warmed again, and she could feel Eleanor and Louis positively beaming. “Oh,” she mumbled. “That was very nice of him,” handing her card over.
“Go thank him!” El smiled. “Please! It’s obvious he likes you.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know how insane I am about the kids.”
“I could kill Evan,” Louis mumbled sipping the last of his drink. “Just go thank the cute guy for Christ’s sake. It’ll give him something to think about tonight.”
She scratched her eyebrow with her middle finger while glaring at Louis. As casually as she could, glanced around the place looking for signs of the hot guy. “I wouldn’t have had three drinks,” she mumbled.
“Go tell him that! I’ll guard your credit card. Just go find him, please!” Eleanor begged. “You deserve a cute guy buying you drinks.”
“I’m not going to go find him. I’ll just see him on Monday and thank him then,” she offered. “But I do have to pee; even the teacher bladder can’t hold all this in,” she explained sliding out of the booth once more.
“Please run into him, please run into him, please run into him,” Eleanor murmured to herself, miming a praying motion as she walked away. She rolled her eyes and headed across the room to the bathroom.
As soon as she turned the corner to the bathroom, Eleanor’s prayers were answered. His profile was in view as he hung at the bar watching the game while he and Niall sipped their drinks. They had smiles on their faces, laughing at something, and enjoying the moment. She seriously hated that she was going to have to walk right by them to get to the bathroom.
Taking a deep breath, she headed their way. When she was close enough that she could hear his voice and his intoxicating laugh, he did a double take as she approached. “Hi Bird,” he grinned so sweetly she could feel her cheeks warm.
“Hi,” she smiled in return. “Thanks for getting my drinks... I wouldn’t have gotten that many if I knew you were paying,” she frowned.
He shook his head brushing her off quickly. “S’why I did it,” he said reassuringly. “And three is not that many after the week y’had,” he reminded her with that smile that could light up a black hole. Fuck he’s pretty. “This is m’friend, Niall. He’s also on the crew. This is Miss Bird, Miss Bee for short,” he explained, her heart skipping a beat as he remembered what the little ones said. “She was in charge of the cute kids last week.”
“Nice to officially meet you, Miss Bird,” he held his hand out to shake it. “I heard you have a lovely classroom.”
She blushed darting her eyes to Harry’s ever-present smile. and then returning to Niall. “Thank you,” she said appreciatively. “It’s kind of a work in progress.”
“You don’t have to explain that to us,” Niall chuckled making her grin.
While she interacted with Niall, her body felt the warmth and weight of Harry’s stare on her skin. That smile of his was doing things to her—none of which were what she would call healthy. It was like goosebumps, a flutter of her stomach, her heart was flying. It felt like her little ones explaining their tummy aches and she was suffering every second of it.
“Well, I won’t keep you both... I was heading to the bathroom, anyway. But... thank you again,” she said appreciatively to Harry.
“Course, bird,” he nodded politely. “See you Monday?” He asked.
She nodded. “Monday,” she agreed.
*
“She’s cute,” Niall grinned. “I can see why you like her.”
Harry smiled at the glass in front of him like a love-sick fool. He was doting after her every Friday doing little repairs. He had massive plans for things she mentioned she wanted once he gained more of her trust. It seemed too grand of a gesture to do it all after only setting foot in her classroom three times.
She was so pretty. The kind of pretty that Harry would have blushed over when he was young. Like when he first learned that he was allowed to like girls and that they were supposed to put butterflies in his stomach. He liked the bright colors she wore and the way she spoke to her students. He was overwhelmed by her. Each time she smiled, he swore he heard music. Her laugh rivaled the sound of symphonies. He liked everything she did, the way she wore her hair, how she pursed her lips when she was doing her planning for the coming week—all of it. He could admit he was a little obsessed. He wasn’t too proud to say it. She was lovely from every angle. The way she thanked him for silly little things. How she was so meticulous in her cleaning or even the cutting of paper for her students’ projects.
“She’s so sweet,” Harry sighed. “M’lucky I can talk around her.”
“Why don’t you ask her out?”
“Did y’not jus’ hear me say m’lucky I can even talk around her?”
He smirked into his drink. “Well, you better find some luck; she’s coming back.”
Harry turned to her approaching again. She looked a bit frazzled, her cheeks a cute shade of red that matched the pants she wore the first time he saw her. She took a deep breath. “Hi again, I’m sorry to bother you guys,” she sounded sincere and embarrassed.
“Not at all, Bird, everything alright?” Harry was quick to ask.
“Here, you sit,” Niall offered. “I was going to use the restroom myself,” he clapped Harry on the back and walked away before he could say anything else. Harry turned his full attention towards her.
“I’m fine... My friends... they’re kind of the... pranking type. They knew you were here so... they kind of left me... and took all my stuff,” she rolled her eyes. “Could I use your phone to order a ride?”
He chuckled. “These are your best friends?” But he could see Niall doing something like that. Maybe she did like him but was too shy to do something about it. He was surprised Niall didn’t think of doing the very same thing before her pair of friends did. The best Harry thought he could do was buy her drinks but instead he would get an extra fifteen minutes, outside her classroom, alone with her. This would be extra lovely.
“Well, not anymore,” she grumbled.
Harry laughed again. “I can take y’home?” He offered. “Or wherever your stuff is.”
She shook her head quickly. “Thank you, but I don’t want to put you out. Louis and Eleanor live across town and I’m just a five-minute drive so I can just call a ride.”
Harry paused briefly as he looked her over, assessing if she would really hate him for insisting on helping her out. “I really don’t mind, Miss Bird. Told you I was at y’service,” he reminded her gently.
Her heart skipped several beats. Not just one. He threw her heart totally out of sync. Her ex-boyfriend never visited her classroom and yet this stranger was happy to be there. Happy to help her. Wanted to help her. “I appreciate it, not that you need to do the other stuff for me either, but this is really above and beyond.”
“Think society should go above and beyond for the teachers that go above and beyond all the time,” he shrugged and finished the last of his drink. “I also don’t want you t’get in a car with a stranger without any of your stuff.”
She knew that Harry wouldn’t let her do it, probably just the same as Eleanor and Louis knew he wouldn’t either. She didn’t really want to go alone, but she also knew that Eleanor wouldn’t come back unless she was desperate. But El must have known that Harry wouldn’t let her find her own ride home alone late in the evening. Even from the few interactions she had with him, it was evident that Harry was a good person. As a kindergarten teacher, she believed she was an excellent judge of character. It was important when on field trips to know if people were going to be good to her little ones or not. It made her wary of people walking by the playground at recess. Of course, it also helped on parent night figuring out if a parent was going to be a headache or not throughout the year.
There was no way Harry was going to let her get into a car with a complete stranger to drive her home late in the night without her belongings. For safety purposes first and foremost.
Also, because he was fairly certain he was in love with her, but that truly was secondary. Maybe.
“I’m not going to hold you and Niall up?” She asked.
“M’pretty sure Niall left,” he admitted signing the receipt for all the drinks he had bought this evening. Niall was long gone; he waved at Harry when he exited the bathroom making obscene gestures with his fingers and a waggle of his eyebrows as he left. Harry obviously ignored him.
She smiled. “Some friends we have,” she joked.
But they were. For making them spend time with one another. “The very best,” he nodded in agreement.
*
Harry opened the passenger door of his car for her to get inside. The small gesture didn’t go unnoticed. The chivalry was something she wasn’t completely used to. She was more of a DIY kind of girl, yard sale and paint it kind of vibe. Fix her skirt with a safety pin before giving up on it. Doors weren’t held open for her, people couldn’t get there fast enough. But she didn’t need it either. She didn’t need doors opened for her or a knight and shining armor to come to her rescue. One of the many things her mentors taught her was to be resourceful.
But Harry opened her door anyway and she thought that maybe it wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world to be a little less resourceful. “Thanks,” she mumbled quietly.
He winked at her. Winked. Then headed to his side of the car. “Y’can play with the temperature and music if y’feel so inclined,” he told her as the car started.
“I’m comfortable right now, thank you,” she said softly.
In the creepiest of ways, he wanted to know where she lived. Maybe he would surprise her with flowers or something equally stalker-ish or serial killer-like. Therefore, it was probably for the best he was taking her to Louis and Eleanor’s. She put the address into his GPS, so she didn’t have to give him directions (bad ones at that). It felt a little awkward in the car for about two minutes as she tried to think of what to say. Her whole life revolved around six-year-olds and from previous experience it felt like a bad idea to talk about them to a new guy who knew very little about her.
Fortunately, Harry broke the ice quickly. “What do y’have planned for your class this week?” He asked.
She blinked wondering if he could hear her thoughts. But despite his question, she wasn’t going to bombard him. “Oh, just the normal kindergarten things,” she summarized.
He chuckled. “Y’can chat ‘bout the more specifics if y’want,” he said following the GPS to the right.
Her heart felt so excited and heavy all the same. He was going to make her fall in love with him so quickly it was embarrassing. “Um...” she thought of the weekly planner on her now evenly laid desk that didn’t wobble when she wrote on the surface. “We’re going to start our shapes unit in math,” she started. “We’re still reading Charlotte’s Web and they’re working on their handwriting while we do our reading comprehension stuff.”
“That’s a lot for kindergarten, no?”
“It’s a ton, actually,” she nodded. “I think the standards have gotten harder since I was in kindergarten. They need to know about a hundred more things than I ever did. It’s overwhelming,” she explained. “So I try to make it fun and engaging because there is so much.”
“If the way your kids talked t’me a couple weeks ago is any indication, they love you and your class.”
“I think so too,” she admitted shyly.
“Y’should be proud of that, Bird,” he chuckled. “Y’sound like s’not the coolest thing in the world.”
“It’s not... not really.”
He frowned, and part of her wished she never made him do it. His mouth was too pretty to be making a sad face. He was too pretty to be anything but happy and she didn’t want to be the cause of upsetting him no matter how minor it was. “But it is,” he assured her.
“Well... thank you,” she said sincerely. “How about you? What’s up for this week?”
“Well, we’re finally going t’pour the forms for the foundation. We spent all this past week digging and prepping and getting things inspected,” he explained.
“Is it hard to time things?”
He shrugged. “Not particularly. I have an outline of what supposed t’get done and when. There’s room for error. S’the biggest project ‘ve ever worked on so I have t’estimate based on the smaller projects ‘ve done. The weather is what can really do us in on a big project like this.”
“That makes sense. How long is this project projected to be?”
“We’re thinking a little over a year start t’finish.”
“That’s so much,” she said in surprise. “And it’s going to be a whole police and fire station?”
“S’the plan,” he smirked.
“That’s incredible. Truly. I couldn’t do anything like that.”
“S’not so bad. Time feels like s’flying already.”
“That’s fair, can’t believe it’s almost Halloween.”
“What are y’going t’be? Do y’do dress up for your students?” He asked. She nodded.
“I put in my newsletter at the beginning of the year that I want to dress as your future profession or dream job.”
He grinned while watching the road even though he would have preferred to stare at her as he asked his next question. “So you don’t need a costume?”
“I’ll probably dress up as something silly, like a donut or a crayon. Something to make them laugh and enjoy. I already have my dream job,” she said so casually. Harry felt his stomach flip over her passion. She was so unbelievably good.
Harry cleared his throat before he told her he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life fixing up her classroom to be anything she wanted. “Any construction workers in the bunch?”
“Oh, at least five,” she giggled. “I have a list of questions for you too, that I’ve been holding over their heads, so they’ll be quiet during math,” she admitted with another laugh.
But Harry frowned. Had he known she had a list of questions, a way for him to spend more time with the pretty woman, he would have all but begged to be in her classroom. “Why didn’t y’tell me? I’d come in and answer questions,” he offered.
She looked toward the window briefly. “They’ll forget about it eventually, I don’t want...” she took a deep breath. “I am not holding you to it, is all I mean.”
Harry followed the GPS for another minute through a series of turns. “S’not a problem. Jus’ tell me the time and I’ll be there.”
“It’s really no big—”
“You’re right, Bird, s’no big deal. None at all. So m’happy t’come in,” he assured her.
She bit the inside of her lip as Harry pulled into the driveway. “You’re very kind Mr. Styles,” she said quietly looking at her hands in her lap.
Now parked, Harry turned toward her and nodded. “So are you, Miss Bee.”
“I knew we forgot someone!” Louis shouted from the doorway.
She rolled her eyes rolling down the window. “You guys suck. Harry already thinks you’re insane and never wants to see me again.”
Eleanor skipped down the steps and leaned onto the window frame. “It’s why we’re friends, Harry. Get on board or you can’t be with her. Or whatever The Spice Girls said.”
He smiled. “S’okay, I appreciated the alone time,” he winked at Eleanor without so much as a glance at her. She was grateful for the dark to cover the shade of red on her cheeks. “Are y’staying the night?”
“It’s either she stays here, or the Styles-Taxi will have to bring her home,” Eleanor said impishly.
“Nope, I’ve inconvenienced Harry enough for a lifetime, thank you,” she said shoving El away from the car and opening the door. Harry smirked.
“Will you tell her she’s not an inconvenience?” Louis asked a few steps back from the window.
“That’s very kind of you, Louis. Ask my only real friend right now, who didn’t abandon me and drove me out of his way to get me back to you lot,” she rolled her eyes, “to tell me I’m not an inconvenience.”
Harry laughed softly. “You’re not,” he assured her. “I’d drive y’home if y’needed me to.”
She nodded and looked at him shyly. “Thank you, but we’re going to one of my students’ soccer games tomorrow, so I don’t mind spending the night here.”
“Oh, that’s very sweet of you, Miss Bee.”
“She doesn’t turn it off,” Louis rolled her eyes. “We’re going to her sister’s dance recital on Sunday and... what are you doing tomorrow evening? Babysitting or tutoring?”
She ignored Louis. “Good night, Harry, thank you for the ride,” she said softly and waved heading for the door with Eleanor.
Louis sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. “We didn’t think you’d really kidnap her but thank you for bringing her home anyway.”
“Anytime,” he smiled. “She’s... really lovely,” he murmured gazing after her retreating figure. “Here’s m’number... in case she gets stranded and y’need m’taxi services,” he handed off a dark navy business card that stated his name and number along with Handy Man Services and a graphic of some tools in silver leaf lettering.
“Pleasure to meet you, Harry. Thanks for taking care of Miss Kindergarten.”
“Course,” he nodded and waved as Louis headed for the house after the girls. Harry sank into the scent of her perfume that lingered in the car as he drove away with a smile on his lips.
*
Harry could see it was her from the job site when she was out at the playground monitoring the little ones. He wondered if she was constantly doing a headcount. Or if she trusted they wouldn’t stray too far. With the weather getting a little cooler, her pink coat turned into a bright blue, thicker in appearance. She still wore dresses, but not as frequently—only when the weather cooperated. There was a walkie-talkie in her hand as she walked the perimeter checking the watch on her wrist every so often—was she doing a step count? She must have walked six miles at work while toting her students around the building and playground.
The kids often didn’t leave her alone. Or they were constantly calling out for her. There were other students out there too, other teachers as well. But no one was called upon the way she was.
It had to be hard to be needed so much. But he couldn’t blame them either. He would call out for her too if he could.
“Is this why you’re taking your lunch break so late?” Niall asked sipping his water while he looked at Harry meandering near the fence by the field. He smirked. “Maybe.”
“Hmm,” he hummed shaking his head. “Lovesick.”
“Maybe,” he repeated watching her again.
“Did you ask her out when you drove her home?”
“No, didn’t want t’put her on the spot. Didn’t want her to think she had to say yes.”
“Mm. I’m sure watching her and her students on the outskirts of a playground is helping your case.”
“Mr. Harry!” Someone shouted.
Her head instinctively turned toward the job site, and Harry felt a little smug that her eyes caught his from across the way. The little ones bounded toward the field. A little gaggle of six-year-olds rushing toward him. It was adorable.
Their pretty teacher followed behind at a leisurely pace. “Miss Bee said we can ask you our questions if we’re really good during math time,” Harry only remembered the names of the three that asked him questions a couple weeks prior and unfortunately neither Mae, Milo, nor Zara was the one talking now.
“Sounds like we need t’be good during math time. We’re learning shapes, yeah?” He asked.
The little heads bobbed in agreement. A little girl closest to the fence was staring straight up, her neck bent back at a ninety-degree angle to look at Harry. “Do you know what a rhombus is?”
Harry chuckled. “I think so, do you want to tell me?”
“It has four equal sides. It looks like a square, but it’s squished,” Mae explained.
“You can make it out of two equal-literal triangles,” a little boy continued.
“Equilateral, my love,” she said gently approaching. Harry gave a small wave as did Niall.
“We love triangles on the job site,” Niall said knowingly.
“Really?!” Another little girl piped up excitedly.
“Yeah, they’re the strongest shape,” Harry explained. “When we start framing the building—”
“What’s framing?”
“Mr. Harry was speaking, Brayden,” she chided softly. “It’s rude to interrupt, right my love?” She asked.
“Sorry, Mr. Harry,” Brayden frowned.
“S’okay, lad. S’a good question,” he said reassuringly.
Niall answered in response for Harry. “It’s putting all pieces up around the sides into the foundation of where the building would be.”
They tilted their heads up at him, their little eyes looking on curiously. Confused by the word foundation for sure. “It’s like when you put the edges of a puzzle together first,” her voice was so kind and soft. Their heads bobbed once more in recognition of something they had done, finally understanding what Niall and Harry meant. Her ability to make analogies for the little ones made Harry fall a little harder for her.
“So we put in these diagonal pieces,” Harry explained. “Makes the building stronger.”
“What’s a diagonal?” Milo asked.
“It splits a shape in half from corner to corner,” Niall answered.
“Have you ever had a PB and J cut into triangles?” She asked Milo.
“Triangles are the best kind for PB and J’s,” Mae nodded excitedly.
“I like rectangles more!”
“My mommy cuts mine into a heart.”
She smiled as the little ones all said their favorite sandwich shapes. “Miss Bee,” a little one tugged on her pant leg. “Could we have a sandwich party with shapes?”
“I think that sounds like a great idea, Kai,” she grinned.
“Mr. Harry, can you and your friend come to our party?”
“This is Mr. Niall,” Harry gestured to his friend beside him.
“Hi Mr. Niall!” They all sang in unison.
“Can they please come Miss Bee?” Kai asked.
“Mr. Harry can answer all our questions!”
The excitement was bursting from them before she could answer. Their chatter was a little overwhelming. “Watch this,” Harry murmured to Niall, a smile on his face as the pretty woman looked at all the children. The awe he had for her was probably evident on his face. Niall could see the adoration in Harry’s eyes as he watched.
“Tootsie roll, lollipop!” she called out with a slightly louder voice.
“We’ve been talking, now let’s stop!”
Somehow getting a group of six-year-olds to stop chattering with a simple phrase was one of the hottest things Harry had ever seen. Niall swore Harry was going to start drooling over her. Niall chuckled but was nonetheless impressed. “Should try that on the crew.”
“Mr. Harry and Mr. Niall are doing their jobs, remember? They can’t just come to our party.”
“What if we make invitations? I made invitations for my birthday party!”
“Amara, we can discuss it back in circle time, but you know how we can’t just go to specials whenever we want? Mr. Harry and Mr. Niall can’t just come to our party in the middle of their jobs,” she explained.
“Oh,” the little one pouted.
“We would love t’be there,” Harry said knowingly. “If we can arrange a time, we can try t’make it.”
“Why don’t you guys go line up with the other teachers,” she suggested. “Say bye to Mr. Harry and Mr. Niall.”
“Bye!”
“Thank you,” she said kindly to the pair of them. “That was really cool to talk about shapes,” she smiled.
“No problem,” Niall assured her. “I gotta get back to my task, but it was nice to see you again, Miss Bee. Let me know when our sandwich party is.”
Harry smiled brightly at her. “Hi.”
She looked at him shyly, her cheeks blushing once more. “Hi.”
Harry put his hand on the fence dangerously close to hers. He could feel the warmth of her pinky near his. “Can I come see y’later in your classroom?” He asked.
“It’s not Friday,” the pinch of her brows coming together.
“I can’t wait till Friday,” he said knowingly those pretty dimples of his making her melt a bit.
She bit her lower lip and nodded, a smile twitching on her mouth. “Later,” she agreed and walked away.
Harry felt practically giddy as he walked back to the site.
*
The outside door was propped open when he arrived. Quickly he found her sitting on the carpeted floor of the classroom in a circle of colorful paper, her laminator in the middle beside her and the smell of warm plastic. “What are you doing?” He asked.
“I have to cut these pumpkins up,” she explained. “I want to laminate my decorations for November too,” she continued.
Harry sat beside her. Cross-legged. His tall frame, his T-shirt stretching over his muscles. His clunky work boots. Everything about him was broad and masculine. His expression was extremely concentrated as he picked up a pair of scissors and got to work cutting up the bright orange paper. “How’s this work?” He asked pointing to the laminator.
She demonstrated with the paper and plastic she had in her hand. Harry watched with rapt attention. “I like to save the plastic as much as possible, so I put a lot on one sheet,” she told him. He nodded. He took some paper and plastic cover sheets from her. “Thank you,” she said gratefully. “I’m sure you don’t want to spend a Tuesday afternoon doing this,” she mumbled.
“S’no bother. I like spending time with you,” he reminded her. “Why are you on the floor, though?”
“I can only sit in a chair that’s made for a six-year-old for so long, my desk isn’t big enough for everything and the outlet by my desk is a little sketchy at best,” she smiled. “And I love my rocking chair, but it’s not really conducive for paper cutting and stuff...” she glanced at Harry again and his large body. He was so hot. “Do you want to sit in a real chair? You probably don’t want to sit on rainbow carpet after a long day at work,” she frowned.
“No,” he chuckled. “M’okay,” he assured her.
“Do you want a snack or a drink or anything?”
“M’really fine, Bird. Jus’ happy t’help you. Happy t’be spending time with you.”
“Cutting paper,” she stated, accusation laced in her tone.
“Cutting paper,” he repeated and nodded at the same time.
“On a Tuesday.”
“I could help on a Wednesday too,” he shrugged.
She swallowed. “Harry,” she said softly. Her fingers paused using the scissors, and some of the paper slid off her lap.
“Yes?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“M’sure y’know why, Bird. You’re a brilliant, educated, beautiful woman.” Her cheeks flushed with color and Harry smiled gently at her. “I like you, Bird. You know I do.” Her lap was covered in orange, black, and yellow paper. She was so pretty. Her hair piled on top of her head, at least three pencils sticking out of the bun at every which angle. She probably thought it looked messy, but Harry just thought she looked like the prettiest art sculpture ever created. The cardigan on her shoulders slipped to one side and Harry thought a plain white T-shirt beneath it might be the sexiest thing he ever saw. “Bird?” He said quietly.
“I spread myself really thin. I have a family, my friends, my students, I barely take care of myself, and I don’t care because I love every single thing I do,” she explained. “I thought I put my ex first, but he didn’t feel the same way. If you ask Louis and Eleanor, they’ll tell you he was the worst, but I think he may have been right,” she swallowed. “I put so much into this job and I love it and I don’t think—”
“Do y’think m’going t’try and change that?” He interrupted. “Your passion is exactly why I like you. M’not going t’change that. If I only get t’spend time with you by cutting up paper and laminating it on the floor of your classroom once a week then I can’t think of a better date. This is more than enough. I don’t need a lot.”
“You might not need a lot, but it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a lot.”
God, she was perfect. “S’more than enough jus’ t’know that, Bird. Truly.”
She rolled her lips into her mouth. “Really?”
“Besides, if I help y’get all this done, then it goes by faster. Right? Maybe then I could take you t’dinner?”
“But—”
“Please, let me take you t’dinner,” he offered, his voice soft. “It doesn’t have t’be a date. Can jus’ be us going as friends.”
“I really don’t want to send mixed signals and I just—”
“Bird,” he smiled. “M’not afraid t’beg. There’s no expectations. Jus’ dinner or lunch. Or breakfast. Whenever you’re free.”
She bit the inside of her cheek and pulled out her phone and tapped on the screen a few times. “I’m free Friday night,” she said softly.
“After a long week?” He chuckled. “Y’were practically falling asleep with y’friends on Friday. Pick a different day. Any day. Sunday afternoon, Monday night, or four in the morning on a Thursday. I don’t care.”
“You’d go on a date with me on a Monday night?”
“I’d go on a date with you during your lunch hour.”
“Lunch hour,” she laughed. “I get twenty-four minutes,” she shook her head.
“Then it would be the best spent twenty-four minutes I can possibly think of,” he promised unbothered by the amount of time. Harry would take fifteen seconds of time with her. As much as she could offer, he would take it.
She pursed her lips. “You really want to do this?”
“I really want t’do this.”
There was a long pause as they gazed at one another. Harry thought she was the prettiest person in the world. How anyone let her slip away was a mystery to him. If she gave him a chance, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. No matter how hard she tried to push him away for his own benefit.
“Sunday afternoon sounds kind of lovely,” she admitted quietly.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
--
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From Me: this is going to be a bit of a slow burn, totally unsure how many parts it will be and how on earth it's going to go. I have no end in mind right now or any climactic parts. P.S. I had to give her a last name, I couldn't see a way to get around it, but I tried to pick on that would match the nickname Harry was going to give her.
Warning: fluffy, cute, maybe a little angsty in my teacher-brain mind.
Summary: Harry nodded. “I’d be happy t’help.”
“Oh, that’s completely unnecessary,” she assured him. “I can’t imagine you really want to be here after a long day of manual labor on a Friday no less and—”
“Miss Bird, I would imagine s’not nearly as draining as trying t’wrangle and keep the attention of twenty-something six-year-olds, for six hours a day,” he interrupted and looked at her knowingly. “M’happy t’help.”
“Miss Bee! DJ took my crayon right out of my hand!” She turned from the table of four she was working with and glanced behind her to see DJ coloring and Janie pouting. She sighed.
“Janie, my love, there’s more crayons in the craft drawers,” she reminded her.
“But I was using that one!”
“I know, and DJ, you know better than to take something out of someone’s hand while they’re using it, please give it back,” she said knowingly. He frowned and dropped the crayon on the table. “Thank you,” she nodded appreciatively and turned back to her table.
“Miss Bee, I think DJ like-likes Janie,” Mae giggled.
“Ew,” Kaleb wrinkled his nose.
“It’s not polite to gossip, Mae,” she said knowingly. “Now can you guys tell me what’s wrong with this sentence?” She asked and held the whiteboard out. She watched the eight pairs of eyes scrutinize the marker.
The other students were at their stations learning and discovering. It was the last round of rotations. When the little bell chimed from the countdown on her SmartBoard they would head to the carpet for story time.
Her classroom was the stuff of dreams—or at the very least her dream. There were colorful posters around the room. Inspirational messages and words of kindness all about her space. The cubbies were filled with lunch boxes and snacks. Their little closet spaces hung their fall coats and backpacks. When they headed to lunch, she would sift through their take-home folders and make sure to gather notes and questions from parents and fill it with the weekly letter she sent to their family.
It was her fourth year of teaching kindergarten, and she loved it so much. The kids were so happy to see her each day, and it felt like she had a family of twenty. Each of her students was so sweet and lovely. This year she had really felt she had won the lottery with how good they were. Over the weekend she missed them. On holidays she was antsy about coming back to school and ask how they enjoyed their family time.
She was exhausted too, there was no doubt about that. Little ones were needy—over the smallest of things. Like the crayon stealing. Or the tummy aches. Sometimes the six-year-olds were just overtired or overstimulated and needed a hug.
But even her toughest kids loved her too. The parent night held just a couple weeks into the school year told her that. “He has never been excited for daycare or for school, but he is so excited for this year of kindergarten.”
The timer sounded off and like little, adorable robots her sweet students picked up their stations and settled all the items they were using back into place. She thanked her current group, and she marked where the current four were so she could pick up where they left off on Monday.
The group of students hurried to the carpet, sitting cross legged on the colorful squares. “All my friends love to sit quietly on a primary color while we wait for story time!” She had a lilt in her voice that wasn’t quite singing, but perhaps close to it. She watched as the students giggled helping each other remember what a primary color was as they all shifted around the rectangle looking for a spot. What they didn’t know is it helped spread them out a bit and would help them keep their hands to themselves while they waited much more patiently than any six-year-old had a right to.
“All my friends love to be super quiet,” she whispered putting her fingers to her lips. “We have to pick our friend who will lead us through the opener for the day,” she reminded them.
They all put their fingers on their lips; their eyes hopeful of being chosen. She pulled a popsicle stick from a cup and pulled out the name. “Milo,” she grinned. “Would you like to lead us today?” She always gave them a choice. Sometimes the little ones were much too shy.
He grinned shyly. “Okay, Miss Bee.”
She sat on her chair; a rocking one she thrifted from a local shop. A lot of her classroom was that way. A teacher on a budget. Organizing drawers and old bins that were a little worn and loved. Bookshelves that had been found at garage sales and even her office chair wasn’t brand new.
But she loved it and her students loved it too.
She watched Milo walk up to the board where she had everything spelled out for him and she waited patiently for him to read. “Today is Friday, October 5th,” he said softly. “We have art at specials time today,” his voice got quieter with his nerves of speaking in front of his whole class. A small snicker started and she turned to the culprit narrowing her eyes at him not harshly, but enough to make him know she meant business. The little one silenced himself and she returned her attention to Milo.
“Isn’t Milo doing a great job?” She whispered to the little one beside her.
Milo pushed his shoulders back a little and continued. “Today we’re going to start Char-lotties Web.”
“Good job sounding that out Milo!” She cheered. “It’s a tough name. It’s called Charlotte’s Web. Can everyone say that?”
She waited while everyone repeated, and Milo continued.
“It’s the thirty-seventh day of school.”
She watched all the little ones with rapt attention on their classmate while he read through the daily schedule. This was his second go around and by the end of the year she anticipated he would do it with ease and no anxiety. He was adorable, just like the rest of her group.
“Before we have our little math lesson we’re going to read the first chapter of Charolotte’s Web. Based on the title and the picture on the front does anyone have any guesses about what the story is about?”
A fleet of hands shot into their air and she smiled. She was a lucky teacher. “Hadley, do you have an idea?” She asked.
“A spider,” she wrinkled her nose.
“I know,” she agreed dramatically. “We all know how much Miss Bee hates spiders.” The class giggled as she pulled the book from the shelf. “Can anyone tell me who the author is?” She asked holding the book out for everyone to see clearly. “Raise your hand!” She added as they all opened their mouths to say it.
The little hands fluttered into the air again and right as she spoke Amara’s name, a loud bang sounded from outside. The little ones screamed; their eyes filled with horror as they were clearly terrified by the loud noise. It even spooked her so she went to investigate.
“Shh, shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay,” she placed the book on her chair and headed toward the window. Instantly her eyes were drawn to the construction crew next door dropping piles of wood and building materials. Fuck, she mouthed to herself and if the kids weren’t so freaked out, they might have noticed her saying the bad word in the reflection of the glass. “Don’t worry everyone, it’s just the construction workers.”
“Construction paper isn’t that loud Miss Bee,” Mae frowned. “It sounded like an elephant fell down!”
The rest of the class giggled, and she smiled. “I suppose it did,” she hummed. The noise continued. The sound of trucks backing up and the like. It was going to be a long few months of work and trying to teach at the same time. “Construction workers, my love, not paper,” she corrected. “It’s people who make buildings and things.”
They chatted behind her to one another offering instances in which they had seen construction done in their neighborhoods or that their uncle was a construction worker. Or that even they had helped their mom and dad with some work around the house.
For a few moments she considered her next plan of action. She briefly turned to the schedule Milo was reading. A quick detour and impromptu lesson on future career options, math in motion, and communication skills, could be managed and even helpful if it meant she could convince her class there wasn’t anything to be scared of nor would they need to find the noise distracting if they knew what it was and could work on tuning it out.
“Alright guys and gals, why don’t we put on our coats and see what our neighbors are up to?” she said with the air of going on an adventure while she grabbed her own coat from the small thin closet behind her desk. It housed her school bag, her coat, and her lunch bag.
The kids all hustled excitedly to put on their coats while she called the main office to let them know she would be outside with her class, and she was bringing the walkie talkie in case of an emergency. Tyler was line leader, so he led the group behind her, and her line ender was Zara making sure the back half of the group was okay too. They walked in a straight line and followed one another at about an arm’s length. A trick she learned in student-teaching so her students wouldn’t want to touch one another with excitement.
They headed outside and they played a couple rounds of eye spy as they made their way up the path toward the parking lot. She turned around, walking backwards grateful of her early morning outfit choice today was pants with comfy shoes and not a dress and her favorite wedge booties. “All my friends love to be really careful near the parking lot, and listen to Miss Bee so no one gets hurt,” she reminded them. “All of my friends know they have to listen to Miss Bee or they will not have show and tell this week.”
They all zipped their lips and threw away the key as they walked toward the fence where the playground’s baseball field turned into the driveway next door where the construction was beginning. The little ones all oohed and ahhed over the big trucks and pressed their faces against the chain link fence as the materials were brought into the area.
“Wow, that’s the biggest truck I’ve ever sawed,” Brayden whispered.
“Ever seen, my love,” she corrected gently. “Okay, who can tell me one thing they’ve never seen before and have a question about?”
Immediately hands flew up into the air but before she could call on anyone, they were interrupted.
“They told me we were going t’have a young crew for this job, didn’t think everyone would be this young.”
She turned her attention to the man approaching the fence and she felt her heart flutter like a hummingbird against her chest. The man was tall, sinewy from being part of a construction crew and doing all the manual labor, she was sure. He wore a T-shirt with the company’s logo across the front Under Construction that stretched perfectly over muscular pectorals. A white hard hat was on top of his head but she could see swirls of brown hair peeking out from underneath. There were the standard work boots and pants of a construction worker on his lower half but that was all she really noted of his body.
It was his face that drew her in. His eyes, his smile, even his eyebrows seemed to catch her interest. His face had the slightest scruff on his cheeks and over his top lip. He was deadly handsome and she momentarily forgot she and her little ones were the only thing there. “We’re not here to work,” Mae giggled.
She shook her head and smiled. “No, sorry we can’t be part of the crew,” she said apologetically.
“We were going to do math, but Miss Bee wanted to show us the scary noises,” Milo explained bravely.
“Ah,” he caught her eye. Did his smile grow? She must have imagined it. Was it hot out? It was early October, and the nice fall breeze was blowing a chill in the air, and she felt like she was about to sweat through her clothes and wish she hadn’t worn her jacket. Holy shit, he was hot. “Are you Miss Bee then?”
“It’s actually Miss Bird,” Kai explained. “But Miss Bee is a nickname.”
“Bird,” he repeated. “Nice to meet you, Miss Bird,” he held his hand out. “I’m Harry, Harry Styles.”
“Harry,” she answered. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles.”
He smirked at the formality but held her hand an extra second longer before letting go. Surely, she imagined that.
Harry saw the gaggle of children and the woman alongside them about five minutes prior as they approached the fence between the playground and the building site. “We got company boss,” Niall smiled while he moved some of the materials across the site with the help of his forklift. Harry turned toward the group and was in awe of the woman that could wrangle a group of little ones like that so effortlessly. As he got closer he became a little more entranced by her. She was all bright colors, her pants were firetruck red, and her jacket was a bright pink. She had an off-white bandanna or wrap in her hair of some kind that came to a knot at the top of her head from underneath her hair. She was beautiful. Obviously. Harry thought she was lucky she didn’t teach older kids because they would probably get nothing done staring at the pretty woman for hours on end. She looked so young too—no way older kids would take her seriously. But the little ones seemed to adore her, waiting patiently while they looked on with fascination.
She held a walkie-talkie in her left hand while she shook Harry’s hand during introductions.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off her smile and the way she looked fondly at her students while he introduced himself.
“We didn’t mean t’scare you all. We’re putting in a new fire and police station here t’keep you safe,” he explained to the little ones. “The noises y’heard were us putting the materials down.”
They all watched expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “Could they ask a question?” She smiled sweetly at him. “They’re waiting for you to say they can ask questions; it’s kind of a thing in the classroom,” she wrinkled her nose so cutely as she explained.
“Oh—right, yeah,” he chuckled. Harry wasn’t totally sure how a group of six-year-olds could have questions about what very little they had seen thus far, but he couldn’t wait to hear it. “Of course...do y’have questions?” Harry felt a little silly not seeing what inquisitive little minds she was molding behind the fence barrier.
However, all twenty hands shot into the air. She giggled and shook her head. “We aren’t getting to all the questions,” she laughed. “Mae, you can start,” she said.
One of the girls in the middle turned to Harry. “Why’s your hat white?”
“It means I’m in charge of everyone over there,” he explained. “It’s called being a foreman.”
“So, you’re like Miss Bee, she’s in charge of us,” Mae reminded him.
“Yes, just like Miss Bee,” he agreed catching her eye. She bit the inside of her lip and glanced at her line of students.
“Milo, do you have a question to ask?”
The boy toward the end of the line looked shyly at Harry and he grinned before looking at his feet. He mumbled something toward the ground and Harry took a few steps closer, bending in front of the fence. “Can y’repeat that for me, lad? I didn’t catch it.”
“How do you know where to put stuff?” He asked.
“We have maps and outlines of where stuff is going to go,” Harry grinned.
“It’s kind of like the maps we made of towns, remember?” She prompted. “Where we would put the school, the houses—”
“The ice cream shop!” Someone else called out from the other end of the line. The rest giggled and she nodded with her beautiful, ever-present smile.
“Yes, the important things if you recall,” she glanced at Harry apologetically. “One more question, then we have to head back inside for snack time.”
“But Miss Bee! I have a lot of questions!” DJ pouted.
“Me too!”
“I do too!”
The chatter started to become a little loud and overwhelming as they reminded her that they had many questions for Harry and he smirked at her as she shook her head. “All my friends love to turn on their listening ears and turn off their voices,” she practically sang. Instantly, they were soundless.
“Wow,” Harry murmured. “I should try that on my crew.”
They all giggled, and she smiled at him apologetically once more. “Zara, do you want to ask your question?” She asked.
“How do you know what tool to use?”
“It depends on what y’have t’do, but I had t’learn which tool t’use by going t’school,” he explained.
“You went to school too!?”
“That was another question!”
“It doesn’t count!”
“Miss Bee!”
“Hey, hey, hey! Hocus pocus,” she called gently.
“Time to focus!” They all silenced themselves.
“Wow,” Harry was in awe of her. That was almost superhero powered in nature.
“Mr. Harry, could we write our questions down to have you answer?” Tyler asked.
“That’s a great idea Tyler, but Mr. Styles has to—”
“I would love t’do that,” he offered immediately and caught her eye. “This project is going t’be a while,” he explained.
“Mr. Harry,” Janie asked pulling on his pant leg through the fence. “Could you fix Miss Bee’s desk? It’s all crooked,” she explained.
“Janie, my love,” she said softly, her cheeks turning the same shade of pink as her jacket. She was adorable and Harry was putty already. “That’s not very polite to ask. Mr. Styles is working,” she explained. “It would be like asking you to do your adding while you’re doing your sentences.”
Harry grinned almost apologetically as he caught her eye once more. “I could take a look at it,” he offered. “When does school get out?”
“Oh, that’s okay—”
“We line up for the bus at three-fifteen. That’s when the clock looks like this,” and they all turned to put their hands together to the left of their bodies, surely to mimic the hands of the clock where indeed, it would look like three-fifteen.
Harry grinned. She was a cool teacher to teach all these inquisitive little minds. “All my friends love to thank Mr. Styles for taking time out of his day to teach us about construction work,” she said knowingly and looked at him once more.
“Thank you, Mr. Harry,” they all sang.
“I said Mr. Styles.”
“But Mr. Harry is like a nickname, like you Miss Bee.”
She rolled her eyes. “Alright, Tyler, are you ready to lead?” She asked and waved to Harry.
As the line departed, he watched until he couldn’t see the pretty woman or the cute little ones any longer before he turned back to his job site. Niall rolled over on his forklift once more and popped out of the seat to stand beside him. “How was kindergarten?” He asked.
“They’re funny,” he smirked. “And very cute.”
“The kids or the teacher?”
“Both,” he shook his head, smiling to himself. “Get back t’work,” he mumbled and headed toward the other workers.
*
Harry watched the little ones boarding their buses and their teachers wave from below the overhang of the drop-off port as the kids left for the weekend. He could see the bright red pants and pink jacket from where he stood by the fence once more and a few students called out to him. “Bye Mr. Harry!”
She turned instantly and found him there. Harry’s crew was also leaving (trying to beat the buses before they got stuck behind) but Harry was without his hat now, waiting by the fence. He waved to the little ones, feeling a bit like a superstar with all the eyes that looked over at him. But he swore he could feel the pretty woman’s eyes boring into him more than the others.
He hopped over the fence now that the children were on the buses and parents had their children in cars. “Hi,” he smiled as he approached her. Her pretty lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Her eyes scanned his face for recognition as to why he would be approaching her after the kids had left. “M’here t’look at your desk,” he explained.
“Oh!” She shook her head. “That’s okay. It’s Friday. I’m sure you have better plans than—”
“I don’t mind,” he offered with a shrug.
“Um...” she swallowed. “It’s really alright, I don’t want to put you out—”
“S’very okay, Miss Bird,” he teased. “M’happy to take a look.”
She nodded. “Okay, well...we just have to get you signed in at the office.”
“Sure,” he smiled.
“Do you have your license?” She asked.
He nodded and followed after her. They stopped at the front of the office, one of the older women greeting and going through the spiel of being a visitor. “Will you be here often?” She asked. “We could do a background check to make things simpler.”
“Oh, he’s just working nex—”
“That would be great, thank you, ma’am.”
She pressed her lips together, but Harry swore he could see the corners of her mouth twitching upward. Harry quickly filled out the information on the form and once he had a visitor tag on the front of his shirt, he followed her down the hall. The school was definitely older. It was part of the reason the safety buildings were getting an upgrade. The whole town was a bit older. They were silent as she led down the hall, her arms crossed over her stomach, he followed her down a stairwell and they stopped as a custodian greeted her.
“Hi Miss Bee, staying late today?” He asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I’ll keep my mess to a minimum,” she promised.
“Not a problem Miss Bee,” he was a bit older too. Clearly, he was used to seeing her around after hours. Late? How late did she stay? It was Friday. Didn’t teachers race to get out of the building on Fridays?
“I like to set up my classroom for next week,” she explained. “It’s a little easier to have everything planned out.”
“Well, I won’t keep you,” he promised.
“You really didn’t have to do this,” her cheeks flushing pink once more. “I’m a little embarrassed,” she explained unlocking her classroom door.
“S’nothing t’be embarrassed ‘bout. M’happy t’take a look.”
“I guess...but they shouldn’t have said anything. Six-year-olds. You can’t tell them anything.”
He chuckled. “S’fine,” putting his hands in his pockets as she pushed the door open. It felt like being transported into another world. A bright, colorful, sunny world. There were windows overlooking the yard separating the building and a soccer field. There were string lights around the top of the wall, along with floor lamps placed around the room as well. There was almost a separate room for her colorful carpet where an old rocking chair was situated in front of the whiteboard. On the other side of the room were her play items for the kids as well as tables and little chairs for her kids. There was artwork and displays of all her students’ work around every free space of the walls. All organized and stapled properly at regular spaced intervals.
Harry would have loved being her student, he thought, but he was glad he could get to know the pretty lady as she was right now.
At the back of the class near another door, there was her desk. Underneath one of the legs was a stack of old books. Harry frowned. It was very crooked.
“It’s really not as bad as it looks. I like to believe I’m pretty resourceful so that was one of the easier fixes of the classroom.”
He sucked his cheek a bit and nodded. “Is there anything else you’d like me t’look at?”
She shook her head. “No, really. It’s okay, this is too much as is,” she said hurriedly. It was hardly anything. “You’ve had a really long day.”
But as if her classroom knew that Harry was there, the wooden sign above the door they just walked through fell off the wall. He smirked while her cheeks turned another shade redder and she winced practically with her whole body. “M’happy t’look around,” he offered. “You’re here late?” He asked and knelt beside her desk inspecting it. It was old. A fairly solid wooden structure but Harry could see it was made mostly of cheap particle board. There was no way that this was up to the fire code instructed by the public buildings in town.
“Uhh...yeah. I have to make copies and cut some stuff out for my new bulletin board,” she explained. “I also like to do a little extra cleaning on Fridays. The custodians have a lot to do so I try to do my fair share,” she went to the little closet behind her desk built into the wall. The door stuck a bit as she pulled it open and she hung her pink jacket up and pulled out a broom and disinfectant wipes.
Harry nodded. “I’d be happy t’help.”
“Oh, that’s completely unnecessary,” she assured him. “I can’t imagine you really want to be here after a long day of manual labor on a Friday no less and—”
“Miss Bird, I would imagine s’not nearly as draining as trying t’wrangle and keep the attention of twenty-something six-year-olds, for six hours a day,” he interrupted and looked at her knowingly. “M’happy t’help.”
She watched Harry for a few moments surprised by how kind he was to a complete stranger. “Could I take these drawers out?” He asked.
“Um...” she swallowed. “If you can open them.”
He tilted his head at her with a smirk. “Is there a point t’having this desk?”
“I found it at a yard sale. It’s kind of my thing,” she explained. “Most of the shelves, chairs, et cetera are from yard sales. I’m a teacher on a budget kind of thing. They just need some TLC. I say I’m going to do it over the summer, but I tutor a bunch, babysit, and whatnot so I haven’t had the time. This is my fourth year of teaching so I’m hoping this summer will be different now that I won’t be preparing lessons much now that I know what I’m doing for the most part.”
Harry watched her as she spoke, a gentle smile on his face. God, she was cute. Without her coat, she was wearing a blue almost denim looking shirt and she looked so adorable he wanted to pick her up and twirl her around like she was a princess. “I think you’re a superhero,” he told her.
Her face flushed once more and she turned to the tables lower than any normal table Harry had ever sat at (especially for his tall frame) and she knelt to wipe the surfaces. Harry turned to the desk letting her settle with the compliment he offered. He tugged the drawers out, with effort. A piece of particle board splintered a bit but given the drawer was empty, he didn’t think she would mind much. But Harry would rather build her a new desk altogether. “I don’t sit much,” she added.
“Mm,” he hummed. “Shouldn’t take an act of God t’get a drawer open.”
He lifted the desk off the books once the weight of the drawers was out of the way. He carefully moved her piles of items and organizers onto the floor taking mental pictures of her setup. There was a framed photo of her and a man and his heart almost gave out at the thought that the pretty girl was taken. He glanced at her wiping the desks, her left hand bare of any rings. It didn’t necessarily mean anything, but there was no way he could ask if she was taken. He gently placed her laptop on the back counter behind him and then tilted the desk onto it’s side.
The weight of her gaze was prominent on his face, but he ignored it, focusing on her desk and hoping to make her life a little better. “S’this little screw for the leg.”
“Yeah, I figured. It was too stuck for me. I tried using some WD-40 but I didn’t get much luck.”
He pictured the pretty girl in her bright red pants trying to get her desk to unstick. Resourceful she was. “I think I have some in m’car, I’ll go pop out.”
“Let me prop this door open,” she offered and went to the classroom door labeled with a giant two. Just follow that path up,” she pointed. Harry hurried out waiting until he was out of her sightline to all but run to his car and back. He returned with a selection of random tools he grabbed and walked back to her classroom.
“—shouldn’t stay late on a Friday,” he hated how jealous he was of a man’s voice. “Come out with El and I,” the voice offered.
“Louis, I’m exhausted. I will come over tomorrow. I can’t even imagine talking to the two of you right now and I love you guys.”
“I know,” the voice sighed. “Do you need help?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Course not.”
“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes.
“That isn’t very kind of you Miss Kindergarten,” the voice answered with attitude.
Harry cleared his throat as he returned. “I gotta go, Louis. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Don’t stay too late, Miss Bee,” he sang.
She continued sweeping and glanced at Harry’s tools. “You really don’t have to do this,” she reminded him.
“Happy t’help,” he assured her. She seemed pretty adamant though. He wondered why she felt so uncomfortable asking for help. His eyes dropped to her left hand once more looking for a tan line or any indication she was taken. “M’a big fan of teachers,” he promised. “Had some really good ones,” he explained.
She took a deep breath and nodded. “If you’re sure. I don’t want to be a bother.”
Harry wondered who on earth made this saint of a woman feel like a burden. Her desk was old and rickety. It was hardly rocket science to fix it and it wasn’t even that heavy. The drawers stuck, which Harry would tackle next, but otherwise what was so difficult? He sprayed the screw at the foot of her desk and gave it a spin, but it didn’t work. He pulled a wrench from his toolbox and tried to get better leverage. “There we go,” he mumbled to himself as the screw unstuck. He untwisted it all the way and sprayed both the screw and the hole. He twisted the metal piece back in and smiled feeling glad he made her life a little easier. He stood, tipped the desk back to it’s rightful position. He put weight with his hands to ensure all the legs were the same length and he wiped his hands on his pants.
“There’s a bathroom through that door—everything is low because of the kids though,” she pointed toward the one right near him.
“Thanks bird,” he smiled and headed through it. Whoops, he thought to himself.
He rinsed his hands with soap quickly admiring the bright, neon green paper that said you should sing Happy Birthday to yourself twice to get the germs off while washing your hands. He imagined she heard happy birthday all day long and found that adorable.
When he reentered her room, she was already putting things back, including trying to get the sticky drawer back into position. “Oh, I can do that, love. Don’t hurt yourself,” he hurried over and grabbed the drawer from her grip.
“Thank you so much for doing this, this is so lovely,” she frowned. “Can I pay you or something?”
“Absolutely not,” he chuckled. “S’hardly anything, bird,” he assured her and jimmied the drawer back into position. “Y’can keep doing your thing. I’ll put everything back.”
She bit the inside of her lip. “Thank you,” she repeated.
“You’re welcome, seriously. S’hardly nothing.”
“No but it is,” she assured him. “I don’t mean to dump this all on you but my ex-boyfriend made it very clear that I put too much effort into my job and that all the extra time I didn’t get paid for didn’t mean anything because caring so much didn’t get me anything more. But I love this room and all it’s little quirks but this means the world to me, honestly. I want one of those Pinterest perfect classrooms in some ways, but I don’t think I’ll ever get it because this school is old and I don’t have the money, time, or energy I’d like to fix a lot of the things I probably need to. I don’t think I’m explaining it quite right and I’m sorry I just dumped all that on you, but I don’t think anyone has ever done anything this kind for me.”
Harry felt bad that his assumptions were correct, but he loved the way she let all of that out. He listened to every word with bated breath grateful for the word ex. It didn’t mean she didn’t have a current boyfriend, but it put into perspective why she was so overwhelmed by Harry’s little help. “Well, Miss Bee, m’at your service,” he assured her.
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