The Way I Feel Inside | h.s.

11

Harry's POV:

My head shot up to the TV when I heard a familiar voice, breaking my concentration from Bee's middle fingernail on the coffee table. "Is that James? James Corden?"

Bee giggled from where she was sat below me on the carpeted floor, in the space between my legs and the coffee table. "Yep."

I was sat on the couch, feet planted on the floor on either side of her hips as she rested her head against the inside of one of my knees. Her left fingers fiddled with my flared trousers at my ankles as she rested her right hand on the coffee table. I was leant over her, close enough to smell her floral hair. The lamp beside the couch was switched on to aide my efforts of painting her nails perfectly. She chose pink. Bright pink.

I had not been paying attention to the movie at all so far as I concentrated. "I swear, he's everywhere," I chuckled, returning my focus to her nail.

"That's how you seem to me sometimes," she said quietly. I glanced over to her but her eyes were still on the TV, thoroughly enjoying this movie that she had obviously already seen.

She noticed my glance and met her eyes with mine for a moment before returning her eyes to the TV again. I dipped the nail polish into the bottle and leaned down further to her ring finger, slightly pinching it between my thumb and index finger.

I felt her head move slightly against my inner knee. "You're very focused," she mused, "You're missing the movie."

"I'm not letting you go to my show with half-assed nails, Bee," I spoke very quietly as the small brush flicked up her fingernail, leaving a trail of pink.

She laughed lightly, careful not to move too much. "Now I'm feeling the pressure for doing your nails. I'm no expert. Definitely not as good as you," her voice got quieter to match mine.

"That's okay darling, if you make a mess of it, I can fix it up." I flicked the brush up twice more, carefully, before releasing her ring finger and pinching onto her pinky. Three very small brushes on her small pinky nail completed that hand. "Okay, this one is done." I lifted her hand to look at my work closer to the lamp, making sure all of the lines were clean and smooth. I pursed my lips and lightly blew onto each fingernail before placing it back to the table. "Don't mess it up," I said sternly, keeping my hand on top of her wrist as I looked down at her.

"Yes sir," she teased. "It's going to be weird being in a crowd of thousands tonight, knowing that the person we're all there for is also the person who did my nails for the evening." She lifted her left hand off my trousers and onto the coffee table.

I took her thumb between my fingers and angled it so it flattened more. With her hand splayed out, I noticed a very small part of a black tattoo on the side of her middle finger, mostly covered by her index finger beside it. 

"Don't you think it'll be more weird knowing that you fucked the person you're all there for?" I teased, brushing the pink paint up her thumb skillfully before moving on to her index finger.

"Oh... Good point."

Silence took over for a few minutes as I continued painting. She brought her finished hand close to her mouth a few times to blow on the paint, and she sang along under her breath to an upbeat song in the animated movie. I was kinda glad I wasn't paying attention to it - the couple glances I stole looked like an intense acid trip. She was enjoying it, though.

When I got to her middle finger, she spread her fingers out a bit more on the table and I saw her tattoo more clearly - it appeared to be the silhouettes of three small birds on a branch. It was very small, only taking up the space between her first and second knuckle.