aisle 13 // h.s.

8.

Harry and Aurora were laying on the bookstore floor, it was 2 a.m, and Harry was drunk off of coffee.

His hand was one inch away from hers and their legs were touching.

The air was warm and the light was dim, silence was taking over the room and butterflies were erupting in Aurora's stomach.

They were on page 266 of To Kill A Mockingbird, so close to the end, so close to finishing.

Harry's fingers were skimming the book's pages, his eyes transitioning from Aurora to the book.

Her eyes were slowly closing, she was so tired, and his smooth voice was putting her to sleep, "Hey, hey, pssst, wake up, ya lazy." He set the book down and shook her shoulders.

"Harry get out."

"I live here."

"No you don't."

"True."

Aurora noticed he was slowly falling asleep too, so she let him lay on her shoulder, and he did.

"Aurora?"

"Hmm?" She wondered, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of his hair tickling her skin.

"Why is it called To Kill A Mockingbird?"

"Because killing a mockingbird is a sin." She answered, brushing her hand briefly through his hair.

"You know what's a sin?"

"What?"

"The fact that you won't kiss me right now."