Perspective

Chapter Seventy Eight

"Come together, right now."

Song: Come Together - The Beatles

A/N: it's long, get comfy, and wear a seatbelt.

*****

"Feeling... risky?"

My high pitched question is only met with Harry grinning before he moves to stand up.

He leaves the back pack, but I'm puzzled when I watch him put on my denim jacket we'd been decorating.

It's a good thing he got me an oversized one I guess, I suppose maybe he knows I mostly only wear things ten times too big for me.

Or maybe he was really staying on the safe side in case I hated it and was going to keep it as a spare.

"Feeling risky about what you smirky twat?" I yell out when Harry still doesn't say a word but I watch him disappear back inside the rooftop emergency exit door.

A few moments later Harry is returning with an old fold up chair, and sets it up a few feet from me.

"What are you? Mary Poppins? Just whipping furniture out of your ass now?"

This question gets Harry to look at me, before he strolls over with that sneaky look of his I know well by now.

He extends his hand out to me, "Come on lovely girl, up you get."

Taking his hand but not moving, I give him a suspicious squint and hold onto the railing with my other hand, "not so fast you whore — what are you plotting?"

Harry tugs on my hand, while leaning down to grab around my waist and pulls me to my feet while I yelp from how fast he moved.

"I want to dance," he smiles at me, while I steadied on my feet.

Surely he's not going to...

Not right now? Here?

"You need a chair to dance?" My stare is even more accusing when he gently pries my grip on the rail away, and starts walking me towards the chair.

"Not really, but you'll need it," is his casual response.

"Harry..."

His name was said like a warning, but it only caused him to look giddy when he brought me to stand in front of the chair.

"Go on Heartbreaker, take a seat."

Looking over my shoulder at it behind me, then looking back at Harry, "you seriously want me to sit down on that right now?"

Harry shrugs, with that fucking dimple of his showing itself again when he bites his lower lip.

"Either on that or my face — you pick."

Even though it shouldn't, his dirty proposition catches me off guard, and I blurt, "you have to be joking, we're on a fucking roof."

Harry takes a step until our hips are nearly touching, and his eyes go from my lips back to my eyes.

"Oh yeah? Risk finding out if I'm joking baby, I'd love it if you did"

Swallowing down my stomach that felt like it nearly flew out my mouth, I started to lower myself down to the seat and Harry took hold of my hips to guide me.

His lower lip pouts as I sit, pretending to be hurt, "ouch, always out here breaking my heart aren't you? I was hoping you'd choose my face."

"What are you up to Harry?" I dismissed his statement, mainly because the image it put in my head had me wanting to squirm in my seat.