Bad habit

03*

This chapter contains smut! 

A couple of drinks later, the tension has evaporated completely, and both Harry and YN are relaxed in each other's presence, probably like they haven't been in a long time.

They're both sitting outside facing each other, on the wooden chairs in the patio, because Harry had claimed he was getting too hot inside. YN had chuckled loudly and told him it was probably the wine, but, still, he dragged her outside, picking up the throw blanket when walking on the way out.

YN has her legs crossed at the ankle and her feet propped on his upper thigh (she had originally put them on the chair, but he had moved them immediately after, claiming it was more comfortable the other way), and Harry the same, so the blanket could cover the both of them equally.

Harry is stroking the skin of her shin as he talks, because he is a really talkative drunk and a touchy feely drunk probably even more so. YN doesn't know if he realizes what he's doing, and most especially, what he's doing to her, because with every stroke of his fingers against her naked skin, goosebumps pebble in its wake.

She takes a sip of her wine, and she bats her eyelashes tiredly, and she doesn't know if it's the wine or his velvety voice, but she feels herself almost drift off to sleep. Almost.

If it wasn't for one thing Harry says that catches her attention and perks her up against the backseat of her chair.

He was reminiscing on their college years, and he was rumbling, in YN's opinion, and she was too tipsy and too besotted with the way he was caressing her skin to understand fully what he was saying.

Until he mentioned how he always used to ask her for a spare pen, and YN felt her breath catch in her throat, because there's no way he remembers that.

"Yeh had so many! One time you gave me a pink one... I think you hand't realized, and I really didn't have it in me heart to tell yah, so I had like... five pages of pink notes!" He snorts, "they were so pretty, though" he says dreamily.

"You could have told me!" She chimes in, pinching the skin of his thigh covered under the blanket.

"Pff" he scoffs, "'f course I couldn't... I had like, the biggest crush on you. Like... the biggest" he stresses.

YN's eyes widens when she hears him, and she lowers her glass on the ground, suddenly feeling very sober.

"I was so in love wit'you! M'friends always used t'make fun o'me fo'it." He continues, and he shakes his head and laughs a soft laugh through his nose, his green eyes twinkling like a lighthouse in the dark night, as if behind his gaze the memory of his college years is running fast as a joke YN didn't hear quite well enough to participate in.

"What?" YN says, and she tries to hide the surprise in her voice. Her heart is beating fast in her chest and his words are replaying in her head. Isn't he a little too old to play games?

"Harry... what are you even... what are you talking about?"

"Don't tell me yeh didn't know?" He raises his brows in surprise, and he balances his empty glass on the armrest of his chair, the clear wine stained glass shining in the night. "You were t'prettiest girl I've ever seen, o'course I liked yeh" he chuckles.

She feels her heart skip a beat as her eyes are fixated on an undefined point in front of her; prettiest girl he's ever seen? That couldn't possibly be true.

Yn remembers how she was in college: shy, never spoke her mind, every once in a while — when people paid attention — she would crack a joke, that would come out strangled and rushed, and she remembers vividly how often her friends wouldn't get the joke, and she'd have to explain it, therefore the joke losing all its funniness, and she would try her hardest not to avert her gaze from their eyes, and she remembers clearly in her mind how it felt, what was it like having all those eyes looking at her, especially a pair of green ones that used to always make her nervous — they still do, if she's honest.