ripped jeans | hes

twenty four

 ;) -g

bereft (adjective) - deprived of or lacking something unexpected, especially a nonmaterial asset.

"What? No." I yanked my wrist one last time but he fastened his grip.

Before I could fight him, Harry effortlessly pulled me into a small, white, room in the corner of the kitchen. He flipped on the light switch, revealing a large pantry closet lined with shelves of soup, crackers, peanut butter, and other various snacks.

He released my wrist and shut the door, enclosing us in our own little space. There wasn't enough room for Harry to distance himself from me, he was forced to stand a mere foot away.

"Why are we in your fucking pantry closet?" I whisper-shouted at him.

"I don't want them hearing us." He calmly answered, referring to his friends.

"Who cares if they hear us? They already know what's going on," I crossed my arms over my chest and Harry huffed angrily, trying to stay calm. "You shouldn't of told them, Harry."

"They're my best mates, I tell them everything." He argued bluntly.

I waved my hands in Harry's face, trying to get him to understand my point. "Some things are meant to be shared between you and I, Harry. Not between you, me, and your whole friend group!"

"Like you didn't tell Aria." 

"I didn't tell Aria," I remarked smartly. "I didn't want her knowing our business, which apparently isn't that important to you-"

"I know I shouldn't of told them," he ran a hand through his curls. "But I was so mad because of you-"

"Mad because of me? You don't get to be mad, Harry." I shouted at him, my suddenly blood boiling with emotion.

"What do you mean I don't get to be mad? You basically told me you didn't want to continue our friendship and you stopped talking to me!"

Harry tried to keep his voice at a controlled whisper but I could see him escalating, causing his voice to boom. Even in the dim light of the pantry closet, I could see him escalating.

"Friendship?" I dryly snorted, rolling my eyes. "You were turning it into more than just a friendship. And I told you specifically that I wasn't interested in anything more than a friendship before we hung out."

"You're fucking insane," Harry's bright pink lips murmured as he shook his head in disbelief.

Those plump lips, the ones that I had just kissed for the first time last week, were now shouting at me. Those amazing green eyes, the ones that lit up under the shining stars last week, were now disgusted to look at me.

It was just too much.

"I guess I am," I reached for the door knob. "I'm going home."

Harry promptly grabbed my hand, pulling me towards him. I gasped in delighted surprise, my breathing becoming jagged and heavy.

"Don't go." He half-demanded, half-whined.

"Okay." I replied breathlessly.

And there it was, that instant spark.

That instant spark that propelled me to stay in this fucking pantry closet with the man that scared me the most. That instant spark that forced Harry to make me stay, although I was driving him mental.

That instant spark that demanded to be heard.

Harry brought my hand to his upper chest, his wide carefully watching my facial expression. I sprawled my fingers out against his chest, feeling his heartbeat boom against my open palm.