𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 • 𝐇.𝐒

00.04

word count; 1,574

[edited]

August sits quietly, only in a robe waiting for her doorbell to ring. To see the hormonal pesky little teen at her doorstep only toy with him--

And there he is.

"Yes, how may I help you?" August smiles

"You know people can see you?" Harry asks

"Really? I couldn't tell?" August cackles, throwing her head back slightly as the scent of his strong body wash seeping into her nose.

"I wanted to ask you something." Harry says

"Produce." August says smoothly, waving her hand gently for him to come inside.

"Maybe you could paint me?" Harry asks

"What, naked?" August chuckles

"Yes, but with flowers over my.. you know." Harry muttters

"Your dick?" August smiles

"Gosh--"

"I don't know why you act like I'm forty." August sighs

"You're much older." Harry shrugs

"I'm still young." August smacks her lips, walking towards him. "I'm obviously still sexy, since you just can't seem to keep your eyes off me."

"I saw you this morning." Harry breathes

"I'll paint you, of course." August shrugs

"Oh... nice, did you want to come with me to my friends house?" Harry asks, fiddling with his shirt.

"To do what?" August frowns

"To smoke, he grows his own weed and stuff." Harry nods, sighing. His eyes meeting the floor for a quick second.

"I haven't had fresh weed since highschool." August smirks

"Another reason for you to join me. He's really nice, and funny." Harry shrugs

"I'll go, let me change. You can help yourself to a soda or something." August says, her head turning to the hallway leading to the kitchen.

Harry simply shrugs his lips, nodding. August shakes her head, chuckling at his expression while her feet pattering up the steps.

When she passes through the threshold of her room. The soft carpet greets her feet, she wqlks further opening the door of her closet.

Yanking a red shirt from the bar that holds her clothes. The hanger slipping from the bar onto the floor but she seems to ignore it.

"Shit," She curses when her foot lands on the hanget causing pain to struck into her foot briefly.

Her hands grip some sweatpants, slipping them on over her floral underwear. The print on her shirt reading:

CHICAGO BULLS

With one quick look in the mirror she moves back beginning to fix her curly hair. Slapping gel in the front to tame some of her kinky edges.

"I'm ready, beanpole!" August yells, seeing he isn't in the front room.

"Coming!" He yells, walking back with a Coke in his large hands.

"You want me to drive?" August asks

"No, let's walk." Harry smiles

"Walking is for people who..." August sighs

"People who?" Harry urges

"I don't know, I don't walk." August shrugs

Her embroidered ace Gucci shows gently scraping against the smooth concrete as she walks. Legs moving slow while the summer air flows through the creeks of her hair.