Things We Don't Normally Do

FORTY ONE

Alex had never understood what it meant when people or books talked about feeling like the time stopped. But she figured that kissing Harry was the closest she has ever been to experiencing it.

She wasn't sure how long the kiss lasted. It wasn't by any means short or quick; it was hungry and passionate, and long enough that the delivery guy seemed to have given up on knocking at the door. Yet it felt as if it was cut way too soon.

It was long enough that her lips felt sore and slightly chapped, but short enough that she could still physically feel herself crave the warmth of his lips against hers. She wished she didn't have to break it off to come up for air.

Upon breaking apart, she saw that Harry had a sheepish half-grin on his face. She smirked at him, expressing an exaggerated annoyance towards what seemed like a smug look on his face.

"What's that face for?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What was that kiss for?" he asked, mirroring her tone.

She struggled to contain the smile that was threatening to show on her face. She didn't know why she felt the need to hide how giddy he could make her feel, but words she heard from a distant memory floated in her head. Alex wasn't sure who said it, or when she heard it. But it was something to the tune of how love and attraction was a power play.

She couldn't really remember anything more than the gist of it. And to a degree she knew that that was a very jaded way to look at love, but it seems that the rhetoric has been deeply rooted into her subconscious that she acts on it without even knowing.

It was during this internal monologue that she realized she was thinking about love. Love. Of course they have both let the word love slip through conversations before. But at least in Alex's case, she had always hidden behind a casual facade as if she was telling a sibling or a best friend that she loved them. So to realize that she was in fact thinking about love was a big shock.

She had to fight with herself to not shake her own head, "I'm hungry."

"So you kissed me?" Harry smirked.

She hit him on the shoulder, a half hearted punch that ended up landing harder than she planned, with her bony knuckles making contact.

Harry exaggerated the hurt, moving back and clutching his shoulder. Alex responded by simply rolling her eyes and heading out of the bedroom door. And finally, as soon as she knew he could no longer see her face, she let the smile creep up on her face.

But it was a bittersweet smile. She silently wished that she didn't feel the need to hide the smile in the first place. She wished it wasn't so hard to be honest about how she felt—because she worried that soon enough she would wear Harry down and he just might give up on her because she kept insisting on giving him nothing, despite his best efforts.

She headed to the couch and found her abandoned drink from earlier. The ice had mostly melted but she still chugged it as she made every effort to find some semblance of being comfortable—and no, it wasn't the couch; it was her and her brain that was making her uncomfortable. Harry went to the door to get their food, which had been left right outside the flat's door.

Hoping to impress despite the change in their dinner plans, Harry had ordered sushi from Nobu. Unfortunately for him, Alex has been living under a rock and while she has heard of Nobu, she didn't exactly have the same appreciation for it as someone who has drooled over Instagram stories of their food for ages.

"Stella says you love your sushi." Harry offered as he took the food out of the paper bag.

*TW: mention of eating disorder.*