There was something about being with Harry that made me feel so uneasy. My heart ached for him, in both a good and bad way. Part of me is convinced that Harry is my path to happiness but the other part of me realizes that being with a certain person isn't going to cure me.
I have to constantly remind myself that there's something mentally wrong with me. It's a diagnosed illness. Not a 'bad mood' that can just be fixed by having a good time in New York with my sunshine. Though, I wish it was that easy.
I was excited for my Saturday out with Harry. I set an alarm on my phone to remind myself to take my meds, I didn't want anything getting in the way of Harry and I having a good time. Harry went over our schedule a bunch of times, telling me everything he's got in store for us. But I got lost in his eyes as he spoke to me and didn't hear a single thing.
"Okay?" Harry asked. I blinked quickly, looking at him with a blank face. I nodded my head anyways, forcing a smile. He shook his head, knowing I wasn't paying attention. Harry began to pull his long hair into a bun before he stopped, and let it all down again.
"How about that braid?" He gave me a crooked smile, raising his eyebrows.
"Sit down." I gestured to a kitchen chair. I stood behind his chair, afraid to touch his hair. I never thought this day would come and I was genuinely freaking out. I gently pulled all his hair behind him, my fingers lightly brushing his neck.
"Did you brush your hair?" I laughed, it looked really knotty which would make it hard for me to braid it.
"I never do. Then it gets all frizzy." He told me.
I ran my fingers through his hair, my nails grazing his scalp to try and separate some knots. Harry groaned as I played with his hair. I froze in place. Harry just fucking groaned. I tried my best to contain myself and continued with his hair. I wasn't very good at french braiding so instead, I braided a section of his hair and then pulled it into a bun. I couldn't get over how soft his hair was, and I wanted so badly to bend down and smell it.
I mentally cursed at myself for being so creepy, but I couldn't help it. I've dreamed about being this close to Harry's perfect curls for years, it's hard to contain myself when they're right in front of me.
I walked around to the front of Harry's chair, bending down to get on his level. I brushed back any fly aways with my fingers, trying to make his bun look as good as possible. I was no hairstylist. I felt Harry's eyes on me as I brushed his cheek, pushing a small strand of hair behind his ear. Our eyes connected for a quick moment before I pulled away, blushing.
"Finished." I said shyly. He gave me a small smile, and thanked me.
Harry's POV
I was glad to put a smile on Emily's face and let her braid my hair. I really didn't care if it made me look silly, I just wanted to make her happy, and the way her face lit up when I told her I wanted a braid, made my day.
I admired Emily as she pulled her black combat boots on her feet. I found it interesting how similar we were, both wearing 'not-so-summer-clothes' in June. I always wore jeans, always. On very rare occasions would you find me in shorts, don't know why, it's just my thing.
She was wearing black skinny jeans with slits in the knees and a short, white sweater that revealed the bottom of her stomach just a bit. I couldn't help but smile to myself. I found her so beautiful. I didn't even try and deny that I had a silly crush on her anymore, it was beyond obvious.
