Pretty Boy

sixteen

When we stepped out of the lift when it hit the lobby, Harry grabbed my hand and began walking to the glass door that lead outside, as if to hold onto me in case I'd walk away from him if he didn't. His cold hand somehow once again warmed up mine. It felt like an electric shock whenever he touched me, but in a good way. I couldn't explain a feeling as surreal as this one.

Claire eyed me with a giddy smile and a quiet clap of her hands in excitement.

Harry didn't notice, so I rolled my eyes playfully at her, going past the wall and out the door.

The cool yet refreshing air hit us both in the face, instantly turning our noses and our cheeks red.

He let go of my hand slowly, leaving me with a small ounce of 'empty', walking around to his side of the car as I opened the passenger side. Any other girl would've been upset and slightly agro that he had done this, but I was fine with it. It made me feel embarrassed when people did that for me. I wasn't worth such kindness.

He got in, and I slowly got in after him. I didn't bring a jacket or a coat, so I sat with my hands rubbing up and down my arms to produce heat for myself.

I saw Harry glance and smirk at me from the corner of his eye. He turned up the heater slightly, reaching behind in the backseat to grab his famous large black coat.

Instead of handing it to me, he chucked it at me, and it landed across and over my head.

I took it off my head quickly, and he tried to refrain from laughing by looking away, turning the keys to start the car.

"My hair," I looked at him and put on a childish pout, looking in the driver's mirror to brush it down and fix it.

"Don't do that." His half-smirk-half-smile was wiped off his face. He didn't make eye contact with me, looking in the mirror to back out of the parking spot.

"Do what?" I asked in a quiet voice. What did I do? I certainly didn't want to embarrass myself in front of him of all people.

"That." He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't know what that is." I frowned, "am I not allowed to fix my hair?" I began to put his coat on, which was obviously much larger than my small frame.

"Don't pout." He growled, I took it upon myself to end the conversation.

"Okay." I obeyed him, dropping the topic. I looked out the window, putting my hands in my lap. I could feel his eyes dart from me and back to the road multiple times.

When I turned around to look at him, his face was contorted into one of confusion and question; as if to say, "I will figure you out, but who really are you?"

He huffed, resting his hand on his thigh as he did the other day, but I made sure not to look for too long, so he didn't catch me again.

I shook my head and turned away again, but I couldn't help but smile.

"What are you smiling at?" He rested his one hand on the wheel, driving calmly and smoothly.

"You." I tried to get rid of the smile by biting my lip, looking at him with flushed cheeks.

He watched my teeth take in my lower lip, and his eyebrows furrowed. He curled his fingers in and made his hand a fist, scooting it slightly closer to his crotch. He huffed again, turning away from me.