Silk || hs

Fortnite

Harry still stands above me, his face close to mine. I can't help but stare into his enchantingly green eyes, that strange feeling once again rising in my chest. As I admire the wonderful shape of his pink lips, I think back to the first time he kissed me. I think of how he held my face in his callused hands and how his soft, curly hair felt between my fingers. I think of the feeling that remained on my lips even after he had drawn away from me. But most of all, I think of the warmth that permeated my body as he held me. It was a physical warmth in that his body was in contact with my own, but perhaps more importantly, it was a warmth that I could feel somewhere deep within my cold, dead heart.

As this memory comes flooding back to me, I begin to wonder if the kiss Harry is about to lay on me will feel the same way. Well, with his eyes fixed on me and the distance between us shrinking by the second, I'd wager that I'm not going to be left wondering much longer.

Time seems to slow as Harry leans into me, and I don't know what makes me do it, but I shut my eyes before he even touches me.

Ha ha, big mistake, kiddo.

As any normal person would expect in this situation, I expect to feel the softness of Harry's lips combined with the roughness of his calloused hands. But alas, I have once again jumped to conclusions... understandably so, I might add.

Harry pulls away at the last second, and I don't open my eyes until a cookie is shoved unceremoniously into my mouth. Nearly choking on the regrettably delicious pastry, my eyes are thrown open, and I am left looking like an idiot in front of him... yet again. I should be getting used to the feeling, but I don't know if I want to.

Also, where the hell did that cookie even come from? Was he holding it the whole time, or am I blind?

I try to keep the cookie from falling to the ground as Harry steps back, throwing his head back in laugher. I know he probably doesn't mean to act like an ass, but he's kind of acting like an ass, and it bothers me. I like to pride myself in my ability to laugh at myself, but when Harry is the one embarrassing me, it becomes much more difficult to do that. Not to be creepy, but I think I idolize him too much to have him making me look like a fool in front of him. It'd be one thing if I knew him better, but at this stage, it just makes me want to piss on his carpet.

"That was not nice," I glare at him as he continues laughing at me. He's being annoyingly attractive right now, but I'm trying to maintain my anger, so I can't be paying attention to that at the moment.

"Oh, come on," Harry begs, still laughing. "That was funny."

Um, no sir. It was not.

I roll my eyes at him and cross my arms over my chest, leaning back in my seat with a huff of annoyance. If he's not going to listen to me, then there's no point in me saying anything at all. I'm just going to sit here and wait until he's finished being a dick.

A few moments pass and Harry's laughter dwindles as he takes in my displeasure with his actions. That's one good thing about having a resting bitch face: if you need someone to understand that you're angry, it's not that hard to do it without saying anything at all.

Harry takes a step closer to my stool and puts his hand on my arm. Just the slightest touch from him makes my skin feel all warm and I get this really unsettling, tingly feeling inside. I try not to focus on how his skin feels against mine, but as you might imagine, as his touch lingers, that becomes increasingly difficult.

"Hey," Harry murmurs, and I avert my eyes away from him. If I look into those green eyes of his, I just know that I won't be able to keep being mad at him.