Pirouette [h.s.]

chapter 19*

// A little too hard to handle,

A little too tough to get to,

But beautiful once you break through. //

"Lie Like This" -Julia Michaels

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After leaving Tate's last night Harry surprised me, saying that Nate had some doctor's appointment in the morning, so he was taking off from work so that he could drive his brother. Which also meant, as I was so happily informed, that he could come hang out at Battu if I wanted him to.

The puppy dog eyes reeled me in instantly, the smile on his face so big and bright it nearly outshone the shadow of the dimple in his cheek. Radiant fucking sunlight. Icarus. The desire to reach out and burn so deep and strong in the pit of my stomach.

So, Harry came to the studio at exactly one, a Ziploc baggie housing a sandwich in his grip.

"Hi, tiny dancer," He all but yelled out, letting the door to my practice space fling open. Harry walked into the room like he owned the place. I can't blame him, though. I'd hand over anything he asked for.

"Hi babe." I smiled from my spot on the floor, my lunch laid out in front of me as I stretched out.

"Fuckin' gorgeous thing. Gimme a kiss," Harry leaned down above me, humming in gratitude as our lips connected, the sweetness of him pouring into my veins. Sugar rush.

The two of us sat and ate our sandwiches until Harry decided to swipe a few of my frozen grapes.

"Hey, hey, hey," I tutted, "Get your grimey paws off my grapes!"

He only laughed in response - a deep belly laugh like the kind babies let out, as he chewed on one of them. I got lost in his dimple. "Fine. Catch."

My eyes rolled on their own accord and I swatted at Harry's hand as he reached out to pinch me. He nodded his head in my direction, encouraging me to open up my mouth, so I did. He pretended to aim before sending the grape flying directly into my nose.

"Fuck," I muttered as the fruit rattled against the dance floor.

When I glanced in Harry's direction, he was biting his lip firmly between his teeth, trying desperately to stave off an eruption of laughter.

"Get out of here," I pushed at his shoulder, smiling as the laugh seeped out of him.

Harry grabbed onto my foot in his palms, digging his thumbs into the sore muscles, "Let me help you stretch before I head out?"

I nodded in response, holding back a moan as he started pivoting my heel in his palm, massaging my ankle joint in between his fingers. The burn spread up my leg directly to my core, the feeling of his hands on my body unleashing a carnal beast inside of my chest. Fire. And I would be happy to burn. Harry shifted to his knees, wrapping his warm palm around the back of my calf and gently bending it up towards my hip. The movement brought his hips nearly flush against my own, the heat generating in my center yearning for friction, for more fire, for anything.

He kneaded at my hip, rotating my leg in tiny, counterclockwise circles, methodical. I could feel the magnets in his eyes drawing mine in, the black of his pupils inflated and encompassing once I gave in to the pull. The air feels heavy in my lungs, the usual temperature feeling way too hot with Harry so close to me.

For a few more seconds, Harry continued to work my muscles, until he leaned forward ever so slightly, the hardness trapped behind his sweatpants brushing up against my core and eliciting a whimper from deep in my chest. Immediately, Harry jumped back, clearing his throat and ruffling a hand through his curls.