Hidden [h.s]

FIFTY-TWO (EDITED)

My first response to Harry's kiss is to pull away.

But so many thoughts flood my mind-the way he looked at me, how he's letting me stay here, how I even admitted to myself that I have fallen for him.

And I remember I'm not dating Aaron anymore-hell, Aaron's the reason I'm here, instead of across the hall.

So I let go of Regular Rose, who is bitching at me in my mind, and I wrap my arms around Harry's neck.

And I let myself go, much like Harry let Violet go moments before.

I let him lift me, and set me gently on my back on his bed as he peppers soft kisses down my neck. I let myself twirl my fingers in his soft hair, running my fingertips through the delicate curls. I let myself giggle when he nips at my earlobe, and he laughs too. I let myself shiver when he bites down gently on the skin of my neck. I let myself flutter my eyes shut when his lips find mine again, his tongue slipping delicately into my mouth. I let my heart beat rapidly, overwhelmed by Harry and his intoxicating kiss.

Regular Rose is dead and gone.

When we finally pull away, Harry's blazing eyes still bore into me as he rests his forehead against mine. I shut my eyes, breathing him in.

"I don't know why I did that," He finally says, his voice huskier than normal.

I open my eyes again, looking up at him. "I don't mind."

He smiles a bit. "I came in here to tell you I was done with dinner, actually."

This causes me to laugh, which makes him laugh, too. He pushes himself off of me, offering me his hand to help me up off the bed.

I can't help but compare this kiss to our first, outside the casino-like place where he took me to play poker with his friends. I had pushed him away then, with thoughts of Aaron in my mind. After that, he had distanced himself from me, and probably hate me more-but now, he's smiling at me like we've been friends for years.

I wonder if he'll speak of this kiss again, like he never did with the other one.

I follow Harry into the living room where he hands me a plate of food-chicken, to be exact.

We sit on the couch, our thighs almost touching, as Harry flips through the channels on the TV.

Yet again, the air has changed between us. Maybe there was sexual tension about beforehand, and the kiss we shared cleared up some of that.

"All the shows on are shitty," Harry criticizes.

"Just pick one," I groan.

"Fine. Next channel, I will."

He flips the channel again and it lands on a rerun of the Office.

"Oh my God!" We both shout.

We look at each other, then laugh.

"Let me guess," Harry says. "Your favorite show is the Office."

"It is," I say, smirking. "And let me guess: it's your favorite too."

"Right you are, Rosalie."

Harry and I seem to be similar in such odd, wonderful ways.

"I've seen this one," We both say simultaneously and laugh again.

"Alright, we've got to stop that," I say.

"Agreed."

We finish eating and just sit and watch the show, laughing and commenting every so often.