i love you, nora jane [h.s.]

5.

"When I was young, I knew the difference between the things that could kill me and the things that'd make me feel alive. Now I'm older, and it's become harder to decipher between the two."
-Harry's journal.

.....

The cigarette burning between my lips tasted stale, almost. I toyed with it in my fingers before tossing it to the cement, smashing it mercilessly underneath my boot.

Nora Jane allowed me two smoke breaks every day, with a small lecture each time I stepped out the back of the bakery.

"I wish you'd stop," she would pout. "Meaningless sticks is what they are. Take life into your lungs instead of death."

And every time I'd brush her off, taunting her as I gripped a fresh pack in my palm. She would huff, defeated, mumbling something childish before walking away. The words she'd barely whisper were along the lines of, if you want to kill yourself, try something quicker.

Just as the last flicker of ash extinguished, Nora Jane slipped out the back door, joining me out on the porch.

"I've brought good news," she smiled crookedly, her hand finding it's way into mine. Her fingers, stubbed and soft, wrapped unconciously around my own and I raised a brow at the gesture.

"And that is?" I wasn't focusing my complete attention on her eyes, which she noticed. Then, she trailed her gaze down to where I held mine, on our connected grip.

"Oh," she started, retracting her touch. "Sorry, I do odd things when I'm thrilled."

I shrugged it off, playing as if I didn't mind it. But I did; I minded it almost too much, and wanted to touch her again. And perhaps, again and again. "The good news, maybe?"

She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "Yes, right. My father has agreed to let you keep working here. He's seen your improvement, liking what he's seen."

I smiled, grabbing her hand once more, tracing my thumb on the smooth back of her skin. "That's great, NJ."

Her eyes widened, the grey specks in them matching the clouded sky above us. "I like when you call me that," she spoke quickly in a hushed tone. "I like when you--"

"I think your break is up," Anneliese peered her head out of the door, dark locks falling loosely into the wind. "And what's this?"

Anneliese made a face, twisted and mocking. She was motioning toward my hand caressing Nora Jane's. She was suggesting with her nose pointed upward and her eyebrows raised that something not-so-casual was going on. I pulled away, hiding my hands in my apron pocket.

"We were just on our way in. It's freezing; I near froze my ass off standing out here for a bloody minute," I said, pushing past the girl to greet the heated building.

I began to indulge myself in rolling out dough to forget about what happened outside. But I couldn't, for the dough underneath my touch held the same softness as Nora Jane's hands.

"Aren't you coming in?" I heard Anneliese ask, still standing with the door cracked open, letting in a gust of chilling air. "Oh, whatever. Freeze out here then."

The door closed on itself, leaving Nora Jane, with her back turned to us, out shivering on the porch alone.

.....

It was later that evening, I remember quite clearly. I had made myself a plain cup of coffee, warming up with each sip before I would make my way home. Anneliese finished drying the last of the dishes, sighing loudly as she stacked plate after plate on top of one another.

"What are your plans for tonight?" She asked, pulling a chair up beside me to sit.

"Not sure. I'm pretty exhausted, might go to bed when I get home," I yawned, pushing the coffee away from me.

Anneliese frowned, glancing at the cup. "That's boring. Plus, you've just consumed a whole mug of caffeine. I doubt you'll sleep anytime soon."

"Well, what do you suggest I do?"

I didn't like the way she looked at me then. Her lips pursed, full and thoughtful, then lifted up into a suggestive smirk.

My eyes kept moving to the kitchen, where Nora Jane had been hiding in for most of the day. We did not know what was wrong. She seemed to be okay when meeting me during my smoke break, but when I returned inside, she changed somehow.

"Don't you have yourself a lady friend?" Anneliese wondered aloud, resting her elbows atop the table.

"I have quite an abundance of them, yes. I could call one up right now and she'd be waiting at my front door with nothing but a coat on." It came out in a harsh whisper, intriguing Anneliese. My tongue swiped across my lips when she suddenly crossed her legs, clearing her throat in uneasiness.

I was rubbing her thigh before I even realized what was occuring. She was closer now, her lips parting as if she wanted me to take her right there. But I pulled away, leaning back in my chair. Anneliese was breathing wildly, attempting to compose herself.

"But I don't feel like it," I smirked, teasing the girl more. A rose tint was rising in her cheeks as she stood up, bidding me a goodnight.

"Suit it yourself," she brushed it off, grabbing her coat from the rack and calling after Nora Jane. "Father wants you home by seven, Nora. If you're late again, I won't save you any dinner."

Anneliese was gone, and I walked my mug to the sink, cleaning the residue of coffee grounds from the inside. I was debating whether I should have asked Nora Jane what was the matter or not, when she came out of hiding.

"Do you like my sister?" She asked innocently, but I knew there was something more behind it.

"Were you watching us?"

"You didn't answer my question," she furrowed her brows, standing beside me at the sink.

"And you didn't answer mine." I turned the running water off, leaving us in complete silence. She cocked her head to the side, unsure of what to say.

"Maybe I was, so what?"

She took two fingers and poked them into my side playfully. I gripped her hand to stop her from trying it again, and her mouth fell agape.

"Stop being silly," I smiled softly.

"Do you like Anneliese? I need to hear you say it." She nearly whispered as I reluctantly released her fingers.

I placed both of my palms on her shoulders, turning our bodies to face each other head-on.

"No. I do not like your sister," I said, not breaking eye contact so she wouldn't think I was lying.

"I like when you touch me," she mumbled softly, catching me off guard. "Not in a sexual way. In a purely innocent, comforting way. I like the feel of you; when you touch me, even the smallest brush of your hand on my cheek."

I was still for a passing moment, my hands still holding on to the sides of her arms. She stared fondly up at me with big grey eyes that even in the silence said everything.

"I like touching you," is all I could say.

To which she gave the faintest smile, stood up on her toes, and pressed her lips against my cheek. "I must be getting home. Goodnight, Harry."

I ran my fingers through my hair, watching her walk away.

Nora Jane was a curious creature. She spoke softly and loved loudly, and ran through my thoughts every day, and every following night. I wondered what she felt deep inside when my skin made contact with hers. Little did she know that when she touched me, I felt like I was good.

*****

Happy Thanksgiving, loves. I am so very thankful for all of you (and for Harry Styles, and Niall in those glasses.) Put your eating pants on and have a great day. xx