Good Intentions| Editing

Twenty Seven

Did I care that my parents ruined Harry and I's perfect night? Yeah. A lot. Tons. More than Harry wanted me to.

Harry hovered over me like a dog. I suppose he was worried about my state of mind after I had my second breakdown on the floor. Usually I would get pissed from him worrying over me, but this time it felt nice. It proved he cared for me. Yet when he brought his worries into work, it sent me into a rage.

"I just told him to stop being so harsh on you." Harry says holds no his cheek at lunch time. To put it frankly, I slapped him. Apparently he told Mr. Frederick to go easy on me. Harry was treating me like a porcelain doll at work and it was pissing me the fuck off. I was okay and he needed to let work be work.

"I'm not depressed or going crazy. Don't bring my personal life into my public life." I sneered. Sure I felt bad for slapping him, but I wouldn't admit that.

"Okay okay. I'm sorry." Harry says grabbing my hands in his and bringing them up to his heart.

Over the next few days, Harry's watchdog went back into its cage. Things returned back to normal. I either slept over at Harry's or he came to mine. After work he usually helped me pack my things into boxes. But the work would be stilled when I found a cool knickknack that I lost years before would be found. I found a box of crayons, some old Barbie dolls, and many pairs of socks that hid under my bed.

The snow soon began to melt, and it was a mess of slush and mud outside. Little green leaves began to grow on the  branches of trees, and the air became warmer. With all these changes came the end of the month. And with the end of February came my big move. Harry was excited as he carried box after box into his house. We both took a day of work (me reluctantly, and Harry excitedly). It took a half hour to bring all the boxes in and sorted out, then another hour situating my things. I was sad to say goodbye to my bed, but it was just about a box of springs.

"Ughhh," I say at my phone that was ringing nonstop from Mr. Frederick. He was constantly messaging things that I would have to make up from my day off.

"Your phones buzzing," Harry says sorting through another box of my books. He was organizing my novels by author and putting them on the bookshelf, while I was organizing my "office". Harry insisted on getting me one so I could sit and write. I told him he didn't have to, but he shut me up by taking his clothes off.

"Leave it. I'm so sick of that wretched man." Moving was a hard process. And a tiring one. I felt the long day beginning to wear on me. Nothing would please me more than falling into bed with Harry, have a nice fuck, then sleeping my worries away. But Harry wanted everything done today, so the weekend would be free of work. Finally, just after eleven at night, Harry said it was time for bed.

I gladly followed him into his, our, bedroom and began to put my pajamas on. Harry began to remove his rings and clothes, all the while talking about the days work. His excitement about finally living together was radiating off him so much, it was visible to the eye. Walking into the bathroom to brush my teeth, I hear Harry shout, "Your phones buzzing again. It won't shut the hell up!" From his tone of voice, I could tell he was irritable.

"It's probably Frederick. What does he want now? A new chair?" I snort. Rolling my eyes, I spit the toothpaste out and head back into the bedroom. Harry stood in his boxers that hung low on his hips and showed off his happy trail. His deep v-line that I loved so much ran into his boxers making me want him. But his face was troubled. His eyebrows were drawn together and a fierce frown sat on his face. In his right hand, sat my phone.

""Arabella, my office Monday, at six. Winky face."." Harry reads the message from my phone. His dark eyes slowly turn to me. I could see so many questions in his eyes, but they were cloudy from his wall of anger.