PULSE [H.S]

058

"Bashfulness is an exquisite touch of the feminine spirit; when the door opens, the soul peers out." — Madame Swetchine

'Me Before You' is one of my favorite books.

It's always been one of my favorites, ever since I read it for the first time. I like reading romance novels, but most of them are so cheesy that it makes them unrealistic. The happy endings are always predictable, and I always find myself disappointed.

That's why I love this book, because the ending is anything but predictable. The sadness of it always twists my heart, but the end makes the whole story even more special.

I plucked it off of Harry's shelf this morning, silently laughing at him for even having this book in the first place. It's odd for someone who claims to not believe in love to have a book about a love story. I know he's read it, too, because some of the pages are slightly crinkled.

I lay on my stomach on his bed, our bed, flipping through the pages. It's storming outside today, and I have nothing to do, so I've been a lazy bum for the majority of the day.

Harry ran out this morning to get a new faucet or something for the guest bathroom after we discovered a leak earlier. There was some water on the floor when I cleaned Scrappy's litter box.

He got back a bit ago and went right into the bathroom to fix it. I was tempted to watch him fix it; something about him using tools being a major turn-on for me, but I'm so hooked on this book now that I didn't want to leave it.

I lift my feet up behind me, locking my ankles together in the air as I prop my torso up on my elbows, holding the book against the white comforter. I've always thought it would be so cool to write a book. I wish I had the creativity and patience that it took to write one.

Reaching the end of a chapter, I take a break from the book and open my phone. I check my emails, seeing that I need to pay some utility bills for the shop soon. I used to worry about not being able to pay my bills, and now I have more money than I know what to do with.

I go into my photos, looking at the picture of Scrappy and Harry that I took the other day. I smile at it. They're so adorable, it makes my heart melt.

"Kiz," Harry says, his voice low as he walks in the room.

Without looking up at him, I say, "Yeah?"

"What is this?" he asks, his voice raspy.

I look up from my phone, freezing when I see what's in his hands. He holds it up higher, so I can see it better. I just stare at the sight of my purple vibrator in his hand, my face going red.

I bite my lip, feeling extremely embarrassed as I slowly look up at him, tearing my eyes from the object. I don't say anything, I just silently combust. I hid it in the guest bathroom, knowing he never goes in there. It didn't cross my mind this morning.

"A microphone," I blurt out, not knowing where those words came from. His eyebrows shoot up, amused. I sigh and say, "You weren't supposed to find that."

"No?" he taunts, coming closer to the bed. I shake my head in response as he nears me. He says, "When do you use this, pretty girl?"

My face heats up even more, wanting him to put it away and never mention it again. I cover my face in my hands, unable to look at him right now. His hands grab my waist, flipping me over so I'm on my back, and then he peels my hands away from my face, so I'm forced to look at him.

He smirks. "Someone feeling a little embarrassed to be caught with a sex toy?"

His teasing makes me shut my eyes, turning away from him. I just want to not be alive right now. I feel so humiliated, and he's loving it. His hands catch me, holding me still.