Magnolia in May [H.S]

Part sixty-five

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Magnolia

Warmth. Engulfing my half-lucid being whole, fuzzy tingling legs, and overfilled heart. The entirety of my existence up to this point ceases to matter. Salt-tasting winds trickle through the open door, the sway of the seafoam waves rock back and forth. For not one soul, all on their own. Time itself doesn't exist, just the drifting tide. My eyes fixate on the crackling bubbles that disperse as the current draws backward. The ripples in the bright beaming sand created by the consistent movement. Various shades of blue surround my eyes, aqua, teal, and even deeper in the abyss cerulean.

If I'm in such a happy setting, with someone who makes me feel safe. Someone who treats me so god damn well- why do I feel sad? It was hard to ignore, the underlying sorrow that floated through my mind as I woke up. How dark everything seemed, looking at the whole world like sunglasses were super glued to my eyes. And it wasn't Harry either, it was just me. All my own. I disregarded it as I woke up, and I was going to continue to ignore it.

I breathe in sharply through my nose, planting my body still on its side. My cheek squished against the soft cotton of the pillow, entangled in a mess of heated sheets. Through the blistering alleviation the limbs attached to my seemingly dead body- ache. All over, discomfort shouted to be heard within the abundance of peace. It was a reminder, one my body took too literally.

I almost forgot, Harry blew my back out.

Fluttering lashes and tired sighs are the death of me when in the same frequency fill me with life.

Amongst the quiet pitter of the waves, I hear a muffled ringtone, my head throbs as I track the noise. Propping up slightly to see it across the way, beeping in annoyance on the wicker table. Who the hell keeps calling him? It's starting to get on my fucking nerves.

I sigh, slumping my head to the pillow with the rest of the energy I have. I try to melt away, push myself to drown in tranquil sleep. But all I can think about is that damn cell, and more importantly who was on the other end. My attention flickers, the faucet abruptly turns off. Ignoring the exhausted appearance of my body I flip over, facing the bathroom door instead of the whimsical ocean.

Before I know it Harry is trailing out of the bathroom, a towel hanging low on his hips. So much so I can see the toned V indent and his tattoos. Does he always have to do that? One of these days I'm gonna have a heart attack. Memories of last night bleed into my consciousness, it stains there. To the point, butterflies start to erupt in my belly.

"If your phone rings one more damn time- I'm throwing it in the ocean." I groan, flopping my head into the comforter. Harry smiles, a soft charming dimple-less one. Green tired eyes, but clearly not as much as mine considering he got up and showered. I could barely even roll over let alone walk.

I nuzzle into the blanket like I'm burrowing, pulling the thick layers over my face. I feel the bed shift, pressure beside my head. The sheets move from covering me, pried off by the dimpled demon of the hour.

"Babycakes, love... You have to get up." He runs his soft warm hands over my cheeks, caressing the flushed skin. I grumble in response to his words, shaking my head no in disagreement. There was no way in hell I was getting up, my legs and poor vagina pleaded that fact.

Mister back-blower couldn't argue with me on that one.

Harry leans down, pressing his lips taut against my skin. Silk moving alongside more silk, he peppers them down my jaw. Holding himself up with deeply planted palms on either side of my body. My heart jumps in my chest, and I have to remind myself to chill out.