REDAMANCY [h.s. au]

24

"There is never a moment in which
I do not adore you."
- Marie Antoinette

⭑Harry⭑

I've been on countless dates with Holland before. Seen her almost every day this week, and still, I'm standing at her door like a nervous schoolboy holding a bouquet of flowers that I hope she likes.

Our first real date since she decided to give me a second chance.

I'm not entirely sure I'm deserving of a second chance from her, to be quite honest. Maybe it's just something that I'll always feel. But I won't stop trying to be what she deserves. Whatever she needs, whoever she needs me to be—I'm in. She's it for me.

When she opens the door, it feels like a scene from a movie. Hand over my chest, breathless. Standing there with the goofiest, dopiest smile looking at her. Looking at my future.

"Hi," she says softly through a smile.

"Hi." The word comes out a bit breathy. "Oh, these are for you." I hand her the flowers. An assortment of peonies and ranunculus—light and airy, looking like a representation of spring itself.

She smells them, inhaling their scent and I can't help but smile as her nose scrunches. "They're beautiful. Thank you so much," she replies sincerely. "Come in. I'm just going to put these in some water really quickly."

She beckons me with her hand and I follow her in, watching the way her lightly curled hair sways over her bare back, thanks to the backless dress she decided to wear tonight. The way the material seems to glide over each curve of her body, over the flat plane of her taut stomach. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't noticed the way her arse moves with each step she's taking. And how I want to knead my hands into her flesh later. But of course, ever the gentleman, all of that will be up to her. It's at whatever pace she needs and wants.

On her tippy toes, she reaches up to a cabinet, fishing around for a vase. The evening sun flirts and dances around the kitchen, illuminating her profile with an angelic, golden glow that only maximizes her already sublime beauty. I'm in awe. Always have been, I guess.

She's the beginning and end of everything for me.

"You're so beautiful," I tell her as I lazily watch the light catch itself on her flaxen hair—so enamored in who she is.

She smiles and looks down, unwrapping the flowers from the parchment and twine, totally unaware of the effect she has on me and my thundering heart. "So are you going to tell me where you're taking me tonight?" She asks curiously, eyeing me now out of her periphery.

"You'll see when we get there." She rolls her eyes at that which in turn has me sniffing a laugh.

"Why must you be so cryptic?"

"Because it's too fun seeing you try to get it out of me," I say with a triumphant smirk that probably annoys her more. Too bad I love her feigned, playful irksome looks she gives me. That cute, exasperated face is my second favorite, right under the smile she wears when she's genuinely, indescribably happy. And right before the face she makes when I know she wants to rip my clothes off. Three fantastic faces in their own right.

She finds a clear vase and fills it with water, placing the flowers inside where they fit perfectly, no need to be trimmed at all and moves them to the middle of the kitchen table.