summer love ∞ h. s.

0.8

harry

I wanted to kiss her. Her body was so small in my arms, so frail. Of the course the twitter storm hurt her; she was like porcelain, terribly fragile. I knew then I would have to handle her with care, but I was okay with that.

Her soft blonde hair smelled like apples, it was such a wonderful scent. I loved holding her little hand because it was incredibly soft and it seemed to fit perfectly inside of mine. Her breathing was calm and deep, and I synced mine with it. Our chests rose and fell together. I was at peace.

"Have you ever had to tell anyone?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitated, leaning back slightly so she could look up me. Her emerald eyes were soft and filled with sadness. It broke my heart. "No," she breathed.

I smiled pitifully. "Tell me about them, if you'd like."

There was a pause. She was considering it, chewing on her lip. It was so cute. Finally, she spoke, her eyes lowering away from my face. "My mother's name was Regina Lynn Blake. She was born April 12, 1968. She died when she was thirty-five years old."

Her face was reddening, and she closed her eyes and inhaled a shaky breath.

"She had platinum blonde hair like-like me." Her voice broke, and I lightly squeezed her hand. "Hers was just past her chin, though. She had green eyes, too, but her had a brown outer ring. She was only 5'3", so we, uh, always kind of made fun of her for it."

A tear fell down her cheek as she chuckled softly. I smiled. "She was always pretty skinny with a flat stomach," she continued. "I've always been jealous of that."

You're perfect, I thought to myself. But I said nothing.

"She was insanely sweet and patient with everyone. None of us knew how she could possibly be so nice. I never knew a single person who didn't like her."

I reached up with my free hand to wipe her tears away with my thumb. Her cheek was so soft. She closed her eyes again, and we spent a moment in silence.

"David Scott Blake," she mumbled. "That was my dad. His birthday was, uh, December 2, 1967. He was the same age as my mom when they died."

She winced, but went on. "He had kind of ash brown hair and narrow hazel eyes. He was super tall, like 6'3". He loved basketball, specifically the Razorbacks."

She chuckled softly, looking down at her lap. But then, her face turned solemn, and she spoke quietly; "But. . .he was kind of mean. Unreasonable. Aggressive." I could sense the pain in her voice. "They, um, they used to fight a lot, my parents, in their last few years."

Her shoulders slouched as she sighed.

I leaned closer and kissed her forehead, slowly to keep from scaring her. I felt like the slightest sharp movement could shatter this special moment.

"That," Jasmine shakily breathed, "was hard."

I took both of her hands in mine, smiling. I was glad that she'd opened up to me. The second I'd seen the pain in her eyes at the mention of her parents, my heart had broken. All I wanted was to get rid of that hurt, to make her happy, because I adored her smile. Now that she was opening up to me, it was clear to me that a heavy weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

And then, the peace was shattered by a sharp ringing from my phone.

I sighed, grabbing it and glaring at the screen which read: Liam: Headed back to the hotel. Is she with you? Rolling my eyes, I quickly replied, Yeah.

Jasmine sniffled, pulling her hands out of mine to rub her face.

My hands suddenly felt terribly cold, and I frowned. "Are you all right, love?"

She nodded and raised her head to smile at me. "Better than ever."

God, I loved that smile.