Blind | h.s. [COMPLETE]

Chapter Three

Paisley folded her jacket over her bags and shifted onto her back and stared at the invisible ceiling. She crossed her ankles, thankful the stinging of her toes had subsided. She had a big goofy grin on her face because Harry was about to tell her about his first time, while she had absolutely no intention of sharing her first time.

"Okay. I'll start then. I am, after all, a man of my word. My first time was with Carly Maxwell—"

"Carly?" Paisley smirked, purposely teasing.

Harry wished he could see the look on her face. "Hey, telling a story over here."

"Oh, right, sorry. Please continue." Her smile grew wider.

"As I was saying...my first time was with Carly Maxwell, in the backseat of my first car. We were at the park. I was sixteen and had no idea what the hell I was doing. I remember it as being nice, but I imagine Carly might have been...underwhelmed."

Paisley found the chuckle in his voice at the end there so endearing. She liked a guy who could laugh at himself. He must be pretty confident in bed now to share a story like that—the thought made her even hotter than she already was. "Sounds very romantic," she managed.

"Cut me some slack. I was sixteen."

"Okay, okay. Did you at least buy her dinner beforehand?"

"Does pizza bagels and fruit count?"

She couldn't help but laugh. Harry was adorable. "For a sixteen-year-old, sure. I'll give you a pass."

"How generous of you. Okay, your turn, darling."

She didn't answer.

"Lilac?"

"Next question."

She heard him roll over. His voice sounded closer. "Hey, you agreed to..."

"I said that I wouldn't entertain the idea of this conversation until I'd broken bread with you. I never agreed to sharing my first time with you." She said with another smirk.

He scoffed. "Come on. What's the big deal?" She heard him shift, and he sounded closer.

She was almost glad she couldn't see him—if his eyes were anywhere near as persuasive as his voice, she'd be a goner. "Just...no," she said through a laugh at his pleading.

"It couldn't be any worse than mine."

"Nope."

"Lilac."

"No."

"P.J."

"Hey, that's Paisley to you, mister. And the answer's still no." Even though her initials hadn't ever bothered her before, there was something about the way her name fell off his tongue she really liked. She didn't want him to treat her just like everybody else did, just like one of the guys.

"This must be some story. You realize you're building expectations here."

She groaned. "No, no, no, no. Let me think about it. No."

"Tell me and I'll take you out for pizza. You can even pick the toppings." Though he was just joking, but Harry found himself hoping she'd agree to the pizza, even if it didn't get the story out of her. He wanted the hell out of this elevator, but he wasn't at all looking forward to walking away from Paisley. Or her walking away from him.

Paisley didn't respond right away. Harry wished he could see the look on her face, the set of her eyes. "What color are your eyes?" he whispered, once again losing the filter between his brain and mouth.

"Blue," she whispered back with a wide smile. "And, yes."

"Yes, what?" Harry asked, distracted by the desire to reach out and touch her face. The whispering made their conversation feel intense, intimate. And all of a sudden his body roared to life. This time, though, his racing pulse and pounding heart were a result of arousal rather than panic.

"Yes, I'll have pizza with you. If you'll go bowling with me."

Harry imagined her words slipping over his body. He wished it was her small, soft hands instead. But he was happy she'd agreed to go out with him, and that she'd turned it into a full-on date. "Yes. Pizza and bowling, then." He rubbed his hand over his hair as the dark concealed the smile brightening his face.

"My first time was with Colby Daniels," Paisley started, still whispering. "I was nineteen. We sorta dated all summer before we went off to different colleges. But, that night, we took a blanket out to the lake. Oh, God, this is so embarrassing," she groaned.

"It is not, out with it." He was surprised she'd finally relented, but her opening up made him feel hopeful.

"God—taking a blanket out there at night was kind of our thing. We'd go swimming and watch the stars. The first time was sweet. Short lived, but it was sweet"—she laughed—"It got better, though."

"That's a good story. Much better than mine. Thanks for sharing. See, that wasn't so hard."