(rewritten)
-Desiree's POV-
As my lips collide with Harrys I can almost instantly feel a hot bubbling start to form in the pit of my stomach. I don't know if it's the words he previously spoke, or me needing to pee, but it is definitely there!
Harry's eyes slowly flutter open, a glint of an emotion that I can't seem to pinpoint shining through.
"You really are something else Miss. Winter," I don't know what to say, his mesmerising eyes knocking the breath from my lungs and it probably won't be the last time either.
"Can- I.. Let's go, yeah let's go get this," I say, motioning to my Harry clad body, "Sorted out so we can go eat or something!"
Harry just chuckles and agrees with no resistance on his part, probably finding great amusement in how awkward I'm being. He climbs out of his car and round the front to my door, pulled a funny face at me through the glass before opening the door and taking ahold of my hand to help me down.
"After you," The cheeky smirk on Harry's face makes me want to scream and shout out to the heavens. I can definitely say that I have never felt this way before.
When we get to my apartment there are three long, rectangular shaped boxes sitting atop the welcome mat, all black boxes with pretty white bows tied around them.
"What the-" To say that I'm feeling confused is an understatement, I never get mail. Who would have put these here? It's as if I'd completely forgotten Harry was standing right beside me because when he spoke his voice made my heart skip a beat, my hand coming up to rest over my chest.
"Oh, those are from me," The cheeky smirk that adorned his face only moments ago now gone, replaced by his worriedly furrowed brows? It almost looks like he's embarrassed.
"What are they?" Harry just shrugs at my question, motioning his head to the three boxes. I bend down to collect them, only now noticing a card placed atop one of them. However, just as I'm about to pick it up, Harry swoops in and hides it behind his back, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"What are you doing? That's addressed to me!" He bounces on the balls of his feet for a few seconds, simultaneously biting on his lower lip.
"Okay, I'm going to give it back, but you can only read it when I leave. Okay?" I pretend to ponder over the thought of it, purposely trying to discomfort Harry further because he looks kind of cute bouncing around nervously.
It's refreshing considering the fact that he's been making me feel that way for the past sixteen hours.
When we step foot in the apartment, I instantly fell relief. I have never felt so happy to be in the walls of my own place. Harry slowly dawdles behind me, obviously not used to his surroundings, taking a moment to take in the new things before him.
"I'm just going to go get a drink, do you want anything?" Harry slowly shakes his head saying he was fine for now and instead takes a seat on one of the single seater couches.
I place the boxes and the card on the counter while I reach into the cupboard above me for a glass, I wanted to wait until later tonight till I open the boxes, but curiosity is getting the better of me. It's just seems so impossible to ignore them, Especially after Harry acting so strangely over something a simple as a card. So I inevitably give in to the urge and open one of the three boxes.
Inside lay a slowly dying white rose. The petals are slowly browning in random spots, the single leaf flimsy from lack of water. I opened the other two and sure enough, they both contained a rose each, one of them almost completely dead, but the final one looks flawless, as if it has just been placed there today.
Wasting no more time I quickly rushed around the kitchen to find a vase. Luckily enough I find a simple, tall white vase which matches the rose perfectly. I admired its beauty, roses have always been my favourite flower.
Now, I did want to stay true to my word and wait until Harry wasn't around before I read the card, but it is staring me right in the face and I just cannot wait a second longer.
Picking up the smaller rectangular shaped card, I flip it open, slowly skimming over the words written inside, only to find them leaving me breathless.
The rose is a rose,
and will always be a rose.
But the theory now goes,
that the apple's a rose,
and the pear is, and so's
the plum, I suppose.
The dear only knows
what will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose.
But were always a rose.
Love yours truly,
Harry. S
xx
