Grace's POV
His hand cradled mine and my stomach grew dozens of knots and ties along with my hand starting to shake, praying that he wouldn't notice. Although, he was behind me, his scent enticed my scenes and gave me shivers for just a moment.
"Are you nervous?" He asks a thread of cockiness laced in his tone.
"No!" I scoff, growing embarrassed.
He bends over, "It's okay, love, I won't hurt you." whispering in my ear.
I release my hand from his, spinning around, and look up to his beautiful green eyes. His hands rested on the counter behind me, leaning in all his weight. His right leg was in between my thighs and his left on the outside of my right thigh. My hand hesitantly went to touch his chest. He quickly leans in, pressing his chest to my hand. My fingertips lightly clutch the fabric of his shirt.
"You don't have to be afraid of me, Grace." His lips formed creamy, smooth words that came out in his elegant accent that I envied with passion.
"Cocky, much?" I ask with a smirk.
"Just a little." He chuckled, softening the mood with his light laugh.
I laughed with him for a moment, before releasiIng my hand from his chest. "We don't want the food to burn." I switch back to reality.
"Right." He grabs the spatula and removes the French Toast from the pan onto the second plate.
"Go sit, I'll bring it to you."
I sit at the bar stool a few feet away from Harry, on the other side of the kitchen counter.
"So tell me what you think." He sets the blue plate on the counter in front of me. He had put some maple syrup on it, making it look delicious. I pick up the fork and slice a bite size piece off, putting it in my mouth. I had never had French Toast this style but I loved it!
"This is really good, Harry" I say covering my mouth with my hand.
"Is it?"
I nod.
"Good, I'm glad you like it" He smiles taking a bite of his own. "You said your from Portland right?"
"Yeah." I giggle.
"Do you like it up there?" He questions.
"Eh, it's alright. I love the people and the culture. Not so much the weather." I explain thinking of the days I used to go to Saturday market.
"Is it rainy?" He asks, curious.
"Yeah. That's why I really like Seattle. It's almost perfect." I take another small bite.
"When we were on tour I liked it alot, we went there for a show or two if I could remember." He smiles. "I have to admit, when I was reading your journal I Googled you."
I laugh and crinkle my nose at his silliness.
"I know, how American of I." He jokes. "But I have to say you're a really great model. I love how open and free you are. You're not like every other model."
"Thanks." I smile, "I really try not to be some stick skinny, thigh gapped girl. Because, the truth is, I'm not. Nothing against them, it's just not who I am. When I was younger everyone I could look up to was a double zero, stick figure and I would beat myself up. What I've realized now is that I should be someone to look up to for girls who are like me."
"That's really cool. It's inspiring." He says with a small, subtle smile.
"Inspiring? Look who's talking!" I joke.
He just smiles, "I was always curious at what your home life was, you never really talked about it. Just one or two stories about your mum." He asks
"Well, like I said I'm from Portland. My dad was the county sheriff and my mom was a eighth grade history teacher. I have one brother who is four years younger than me. He's a good kid. To be compleatly honest there's not much to me. When I was younger my parents were really struggling with money but they got back on their feet when I was about 12, just ready for middle school, where my mom got her job." I laugh at my long winded explanation.
"You come from a normal, working class family like anyone else. Just like me. What does your family think about you being about model?" He relates.
"My mom and dad were kind of skeptical about it but they grew into it. My mom tells me that my brother tells all of his friends that "I'm a super model" It's funny because every time I tell him that I'm not a super model he says "But One day you will be." To think I used to hate my brother makes me laugh." I giggle.
"Sounds like a sweet kid. One day, maybe I'll get to meet him." He sets his fork down and looks up at me with a smirk, knowing what he had done.
I look down at my lap and feel my face heat up. His tall, lean figure begins to waltz around the corner. He stands just a foot away from me, looking me in the eye.
"I-" His finger brushes my lip.
"Shh. It's okay." He interrupts.
My heart pounds in my chest as his body approaches closer, and closer.
