sign {h.s.}

hoofdstuk vijfenveertig*

n. haha! don't h8 me! (also pls comment a lot i love hearing what u have to say)

"Well," I say, peeking my head into the bedroom the next morning. Harry lays in the bed. One elbow crooked and cupped behind his head as his eyes follow my every movement across the room. I lean against the doorway of the bathroom, crossing my arms over my chest, causing his t-shirt on my body to raise. The smallest gesture does not escape him as he longingly looks back over my body. Despite the early hour, he still appears to be ready for me. "There's good news and bad news. What do you want first?"

"Good." He smirks, one side of his lip quirked up as he still is unable to take his eyes off of me.

In his eyes, I feel so beautiful. Even first thing in the morning when the remnants of last night's mascara has dripped under my eyes and my hair is a frizzy tangle of curls. Even then, I still feel like one of the most beautiful women in the world. All because of the way that he looks at me.

Making my way closer to the bed, I move carefully to straddle him over the duvet that is haphazardly strewn about his body. For the most part, it is doing little to cover him; leaving little to mystery. But, it still does separate us from touching. Leaning down, I press my lips against his only briefly as I rest my hands on his chest for balance. My hair falls over the both of us, like a curtain blocking us from the remainder of the outside world. We'd turned around yesterday and managed to salvage the rest of the day. From what I understand from Harry, Nadine would be out of our hair for the remainder of the trip.

Not particularly minding his morning breath, I allow one more chaste kiss to his lips before I pull away, looking down at my adorning boyfriend. Something about him is so soft in the mornings. Despite being so completely tired, he looks so alert and awake. As though it is all that he can do to pay attention to me. Once more, he is able to make me feel so loved.

Tucking a strand of my mop of hair behind my ear, I back away further from his face, moving to sit straight up as I straddle him. My hands move to play with his, similar, mop of morning hair. He smiles softly at the gesture, looking at me expectantly. "Well, the good news is: I'm not pregnant." I say, biting on the corner of my cheek.

There is nothing like a poorly timed period to ruin the mood.

My words cause Harry more shock than I would have expected, though, as he sits up straight in the bed, accidentally knocking me back a couple of inches. He rushes to catch me, though his reflexes are delayed as I topple off of his lap and onto the bed beside him. Suddenly on high alert, he turns to me, "you thought you were pregnant?"

"No," I say slowly, my brow pulling down low as a result of his panic. "We're always careful, and I usually remember to take the pill. I was just making a joke about getting my period," I explain, nervously reaching up to twirl with one of my curls. Perhaps now I see it is a poor taste in joke, though, I hardly find it anything to get upset over.

"Well, maybe try to always remember to take the pill."

"Hey," I interject, holding up my hand as a means of surrender. No longer does he looks like the soft and sweet boy who had just woken up moments ago. Instead, he looks pissed. Jaw clenched and eyebrows pulled low, I can tell he is taking my "good news" quite awfully. "It was just a joke," I remind him, looking at him wildly. Out of every conversation we've ever had, this is the one to panic him? "Besides, you've spent so much time telling me how you have more than enough money to support me. Would a kid really be that bad?"

"I don't want kids," he deadpans, looking at me with a straight face.

For a moment, I hold off on my response. I wait for him to crack a smile and assure me that he would love me whether or not I was pregnant. That he would even love our little child, too. But, he doesn't crack. Only yesterday, we were professing our love obsessive. Could so much change in so little time? "But you wanted kids with Mila?"