invasato [h.s]

40

Elaina Basset

Last night after Harry and I talked, he went home.

He didn't make a big deal out of it. He just did what I asked him to do.

We left things on an interesting note with the hug. I don't regret it, but I just have this lingering feeling. I can't really pinpoint it.

I just hope it didn't make things weird between us. We've got this civil, almost friendly, ground that we're on...I don't wanna lose that now.

Waking up this morning, Isaac was next to me. I didn't feel like cuddling last night, but I did it anyway. He spooned me as he slept beneath the covers and I was overtop of them. He held me close, like he loved me, but he didn't say a lot.

I got out of bed and used the bathroom to freshen up when I woke up, then maybe twenty minutes later, Isaac did the same. Now, I'm laying in bed waiting for him to return from my bathroom.

I'm still in the t shirt from yesterday and a pair of pyjama shorts. I'm sure Isaac wanted to have sex last night, but I just couldn't find it in me to do it.

He still hasn't seen my tattoo or the scar on my hip. Those are questions that I'm just not ready to answer yet.

I hear the bathroom door open and I sit up a bit, looking at the direction to see Isaac walk back into the main part of the room.

Shirtless in a pair of plaid pyjama pants, he gives me a soft tired morning smile as he trudges back over to the bed.

His body crashes down, his head collapsing into my lap. I laugh at the sudden contact, my hands at my sides with my palms in the mattress.

"Morning." I say quietly.

He hums, then turns his head so he's looking up at me. "Jet lag is very real." he chuckles in exhaustion.

He starts to blindly pat around the bed for my hand, and when he finds it, he guides it up to his hair.

"Play with my hair, it'll make me less tired." he says, and I laugh as I start to thread my fingers through his roots.

"I think it'll have the opposite effect."

He exhales and looks up at me, his lips smiling as his eyes look around my face.

"You're so hot in the mornings, babe."

I scoff and roll my eyes playfully. "Shut up."

He giggles, his teeth showing as he lays in my lap. His smile softens as he examines my face until eventually it's just a closed lipped grin.

"Shut me up." he whispers. "Kiss me."

I blink, taking in those words before eventually just giving in. I softly smile as I lean my head down to his so our lips are close enough to meet.

It was a familiar feeling, I've kissed him many times. There was nothing new about it.

He separates our lips for a moment, grins, then brings his hand up to grab my chin and makes me kiss him again. He holds my chin, and starts to glide our lips together.

He starts tender and soft, both of our eyes shut. Then, he picks the pace up. With his hand on my chin, he sits up while kissing me. Before I know it, he's shifting on the bed so he's against my headboard and I'm straddling him.

His hands rest on my hips while he kisses me. This scene is something I've played through since high school—heavy make out sessions that result in sex.

He starts getting messy as he kisses me, tongue in my mouth with a firm grip on my hips.

"I've missed this." he whispers against my lips.