Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 42

*** THERE IS SMUT IN THIS UPDATE! Please let me know if you need a summary<3 I know Ramadan is still going on! xo***

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Chapter 42

Harry blinked at me from across the room. "What?"

The realization of what I'd said – the proposition I'd offered him – hit me like a physical blow. What was I thinking? This was Harry. Never-do-anything-fun, all-work-no-play Harry. The last thing he wanted to do was sit outside with me under the sky, doing god knows what.

"Never mind." I quickly shook my head, clearing my throat. "Forget it, I was just–"

He stepped forward, catching me by the wrist before I had a chance to flee into the bedroom. "You mean like sit on the terrace?"

His expression was unreadable, face half-angled to the side as he looked down at me. The apples of his cheeks were glowing from the moonlight pouring in from the wall of windows a few feet away.

Pretty.

"Um... I guess, yeah," I shrugged, feeling my face heat. When Harry didn't say anything, I softly went on, "I'm just really nervous about tomorrow. And I know that if I try to go to sleep now, I'm going to lay in bed for the next few hours just making myself sick over it."

The clouding in Harry's gaze shifted. He drew in a small breath, running his thumb over the neck of the wine bottle still gripped in his hand before bringing it up to his mouth. "Okay," he murmured, tipping it back a moment later to take a large swig. "Let's go."

He seemed apprehensive as the two of us stepped outside, the humid air clouding around my bare shoulders once more. Not nervous – just... unsure. Like he'd lost his footing, the balance he so normally exuded with a certain swagger faltering a fraction. I could hear him swallow when we approached the stone railing.

Silence hung heavy between the two of us. I didn't know what I'd expected in inviting him out here but talking definitely wasn't it. I knew he didn't do a lot of that unless he was provoked, normally in a negative, but I was too tired to try and engage him in something he had no interest in doing.

Which was why it would fall back on me. Not a problem though, considering I never had an issue opening my mouth to speak.

"It doesn't seem real." From my peripheral vision, I could see Harry lift the wine bottle back up to his mouth. It hovered an inch from his lips as I clarified, "The view. The sea. The stars. It's crazy to me that places like these exist."

My hands closed around the railing; the shaking only visible to me in the darkness. I dragged the pad of my thumb over a small crack in the stone, feeling it catch along the ridges.

Harry's voice was hoarse when he asked, "I take it you don't travel a lot?"

I turned my head, giving him a flat look. "I'm a painter at a downtown studio who can barely pay her rent most months."

A low laugh was what I got in response to my words. Harry angled his head to look at me, bracing an elbow on the railing. "Do you like what you do, at least?"

"I love what I do," I admitted honestly with a contented sigh, glancing back out at the city below. At the twinkling lights, the smatterings of colour dotting the darkened expanse of land, the way the rolling waves of the sea shone on their way onto the shore. "Right now, I'm already taking a mental picture of this so that I can paint it when I get home."

"Mm," he nodded, a smile curling onto his lips. "You must have quite the memory in that little head of yours."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his words. "Do you like what you do?"