Nowhere In Particular // H.S.

Thirty: Cloud 9 Toilet Paper

The afternoon is filled with phone call after phone call, trying to squeeze in as many family members as possible in the short window of time I allow myself to have. My mom and dad get more time than my aunt or my cousin that I talk to every couple of months but Laurel's is the longest out of all of them.

She actually called earlier in the morning in an attempt to be the first person to tell me happy birthday. Harry beat her by a little since he woke me up with the words, but I didn't tell her those details when we were on the phone. The first conversation was short because we both had things to do and places to be but I told her I would call her back when I got a chance.

After my shopping adventure with Harry we bought a cake from the store and ate it in a park, sitting in the grass under a tree. It wasn't a huge cake but it was still far too much for just the two of us, so the remainder is sitting in a pink box on the table in our hotel room. The frosting was bright yellow and the cake was the kind that looked like confetti, and we ate so fast that we had to lie in the grass recovering, grumbling about our stomachs, for a good half hour.

My second phone call with Laurel was much longer, catching up on things that have happened to the both of us since we last talked. I told her about Harry's extreme sweetness throughout the day and his mysterious party we're attending soon. She told me about college and wished me happy birthday about thirty times. By the end of our phone call I was feeling even happier and more blessed than I was before and the icing on top was Harry smiling widely at me noticing that happiness.

"Do you need help with the dress again?" Harry yells from the other side of our way too large room.

"Only if you promise not to get distracted," I joke, trying to fix my hair as I stare in the bathroom mirror. "We don't have time for any of that right now."

"But, baby," I hear Harry whine, his voice getting closer as he walks toward the bathroom. "I don't think you understand just how good you look in that dress... granted, I think you look good all the time. But it's like my hands have a mind of their own when you have that on."

"Maybe I should ditch the dress then," I laugh, rolling my eyes at Harry's childish tone.

"Well," his head pops in the doorway, smirking at me with his arms crossed in front of his body. "I feel as though that may just add to the problem, not nearly a solution in my eyes."

"What?" I look at him with a confused expression, not understanding what he means. "Why?"

"Because," he shrugs, his eyes traveling down my body. "No dress would mean no clothes, and no clothes means a naked you and an almost too happy me... But you're right we don't have time for that, so the dress must stay on, Greta."

He walks closer, making the gap between us almost non-existent. My eyes are on the mirror in front of me but I'm no longer paying attention to my hair or the eyeliner I just smudged accidentally on one side. They're still glued to the glass of the mirror but instead my eyes are staring at Harry as he strides over with a smirk still on his face.

His hands move to my hips, turning me so my back is to him. They linger, gripping at my waist and tickling at the skin of my back as he moves his fingers to the zipper. I still watch him in the mirror, pushing my curls to the side and holding myself up with one of my hands on the counter. He continues to look down, staying concentrated as he pulls the zipper up, moving my dress together.

When he finishes his hands move across my body again, only this time his arms wrap around my stomach pulling my back into him. He hugs me tightly, resting his chin on my shoulder as I continue to watch our movements in the mirror.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers quietly with his arms still pulling me into him. And I can almost feel him smile as he presses a soft kiss into my cheek.