When I first started writing about Lia and Harry, it was supposed to be nothing but a one-shot, inspired by one single picture of him. A rude bartender who works across the street from this very socially anxious girl.
And then I got attached to the...
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Lia squeezed her eyes shut and yawned. She took one arm from under her silver quilt to rub her heavy eyelids, then exhaled slowly and deeply through her mouth.
She was still drowsy, and her bed had never felt so warm and cozy, so she didn't make any effort to stay awake or face the new day. Instead, she delighted herself in the positive feeling, pressing her lips together, tucking her arm back under her bedding, and nuzzling her cheek against the cushy, firm, and broad pillow underneath her face.
Reality about her surroundings should've been blatantly obvious. Things were, after all, a result of her own actions. The outcome of a boost of bravery and boldness that took over her mouth and didn't stop her from saying out loud what she had been silently ruminating in hopes to never end that night.
And yet, the information swirled merely unconsciously, never fully reaching the surface of her restful mind. Not even when he pulled the quilt up, covering her shoulder, neck and half of her face with it. Nor when he tangled his hand with her hair and scratched her scalp with his short nails. Or when the up and down movement of her "pillow", plus the calm and steady beat echoing inside it, lulled her back to sleep.
It should've been blatantly obvious, and yet it wasn't.
In her state of bliss, laziness and ease, everything became just so... Slow... And so... Distant... The world turned into darkness... Peaceful... Warm... Calm... Comfortable... Sunlight hit her face... Her eyelids tinkled... Her cheeks bloomed... Her heart kept her alive in slow-motion, beating once... Or twice... Maybe only sometimes... Was she even breathing?... So effortless... Was she in heaven?... That had to be how heaven felt like... Unconcerned... Easy-going... Relaxing...
Happy.
Lia hummed and cozied up again — she nuzzled her cheek on his soft skin, tightened the grip around his waist, and pulled one knee up.
The hand on her shoulder moved to her waist, squeezing lightly before sliding down to her bum, and then even further to the back of her thigh. His hold was gentle, pushing her forward and encouraging her to hook her leg across his hips.
Lia rested her heel on the opposite side of him and tensed all of her muscles, squeezing him into a bear hug.
And then, above her — and underneath her — the softest puff of air broke the heavy silence.
Harry...
Reality sank in, and suddenly what had been unacknowledged until then became palpable; and what had been silent so far became the only thought screaming inside her mind.
Harry. Harry. Harry.
Harry.
Harry!
Harry laid on his back, and Harry had turned into her personal pillow. She was curled against his side, and also half-way on top of him. Cheek resting on his chest, arm spread across his belly, leg enveloping his hips. All she could feel, wherever she touched, was his bare, smooth, and hairy skin.
