Your feet move on their own from one side to the other, trying to do everything on time so that your friends don't hang you for being late.
Your hair is already perfectly styled the way you like it best, you're wearing jeans that exquisitely tighten your figure and an ac dc shirt rolled up in a sexy way revealing the smooth skin of your stomach. You only need to touch up your minimal makeup and put on shoes.
Your boyfriend of almost four years is sitting on the expensive couch you both bought when you moved in together, pretending he's playing guitar, he's actually watching you lose your mind like it's the funniest thing in the world.
"Angel... calm down, they'll understand." He says, and while you have one of your eyes caught on the lash archer, you turn to face him. "Ah! you know i get scared when you do that, you could hurt yourself."
"Harry, you know what they are like, I'm already thirty minutes late." You answer, letting go of the lash archer and turning your back to him again, this time looking at him through the large mirror in the living room. "And I have to arch them, it's the only way I look good."
"Hey! don't say that, I love it when you're not wearing makeup, I can see those freckles that i love so much." He continues to speak, watching you blush through the mirror, his ringed fingers caressing the guitar strings.
You notice how his gaze drops a little more, until he speaks again:
"Your arse looks so good." He mutters as he bites his lip and scratches his chin, fully concentrating on how the fabric was tightening up your best areas. "I can't believe that arse is all mine."
"Alright Romeo, stop it." You say, completely flushed and a little horny. Almost four years and he kept driving you crazy like the first day.
Well, he could say the same to you. His love and madness for you only seemed to increase with the days.
When you're finally done, you rush to put all the items you used in their place so you can look this good in such a short time. When you are coming out of the bathroom, your body bumps against a hard chest that you know very well, and you raise your head to observe those green eyes.
"What's wrong babe?" You say, in a hurry. "I have to go, H."
"Stay, please?"
You keep quiet. Watching how the giant 24-year-old man in front of you now looks like a baby, with glasses resting on his head and his lips forming a pout, you feel your heart beating strongly.
"Haz, I have to go." Your hand is stretched out enough to caress his soft cheek.
"I don't know what's wrong with me today, but I just want to hold you all night, and maybe fuck you because god your arse looks so good in those jeans." He mutters, making you laugh. "I just want to adore you... just let me adore you."
They are both silent, your mind busy thinking of an excuse to stay home today. And Harry's mind connecting loose ends.
"That's it! Just let me adore you." Harry distracts you, laughing happily and he runs away from you to run into the living room, leaving you confused.
You follow him to see what happens, and you find him back on the couch, with the guitar on his lap, but this time his wrist is moving fast over his notebook, writing.
"Strawberry lipstick state of mind." You hear him hum, and smiling you slide your tongue over your lower lip covered in indeed, a strawberry lipstick.
You take your cell phone and quickly write a bad excuse to the group of your friends, no matter what insults you're going to receive for staying home on a Saturday night, and then lie down next to Harry.
"You stay?"
"Of course" you say, reaching out to kiss his cheek. "Now, tell me what is that about adore me."
