under the covers [hs au]

chapter twenty.

It was a late night at Leaf. A layer of snow blanketed the city, swirling with the cold air and gusty winds.

Samira's eyes were glued to the window, keeping a record of each snowflake that fell until it disappeared. It was warm inside, and the cozy smell of cinnamon lingered in the air. Nothing lit the room but the twinkle lights scattered around the restaurant, giving her a warm feeling within.

The set up was all Harry's doing. He'd been getting creative with what he had, and he did a great job with it. Since it was almost Christmas, he'd been working hard and taking over shifts; he was to take care of everything until closing on New Year's Eve.

Leaf was empty—just the two of them. Samira offered to help, cleaning the flutes and tumblers behind the bar. Harry was in his office, making phone calls and finishing up paperwork.

"Blackbird" by The Beatles played lowly in his office; Samira hummed to it as she wiped down the bar. Her phone began to ring in her pocket—it was Mahnoor.

"Hey," Samira answered.

"God, you're awake? Isn't it midnight?" Mahnoor replied, giggling. "What are you up to?"

"I'm at Leaf with Harry." Samira yawned. "I'm getting a little tired."

"How's Harry?"

"He's good . . . busy. He's been acting kinda weird. I don't know why."

"He's probably missing you already."

"I don't know, maybe. I hate to see this man cry," Samira replied.

"It's not a surprise he opened up real quick," Mahnoor said. "You're good with advice."

"Really?" Samira looked at her shoes, biting the inside of her cheek. "I don't know. He made me all soft and shit."

"You've always been a softie. With everyone."

"Shut up."

Mahnoor chuckled through the phone. "I'm going out. Call me before you get on your plane."

"I will. I love you," Samira replied.

"I love you too, bub."

When she hung up, she heard Harry's footsteps from the hallway.

"Who were you talking to?" Harry asked, stepping into the bar.

"Mano," Samira answered, looking at him. "Everything okay?"

Harry just shrugged, taking a glass from the shelf. His eyes never met hers, not even for a moment.

"Hey." Samira nudged his shoulder, hoping to catch his gaze. "Look at me."

And Harry did, but he couldn't hold contact.

"Are you okay?" Samira gaped at him, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah."

"Are you?"

Samira kept a massive grin on her face, hoping to pass it onto him. He eventually looked at her again, and his lips twitched into a smile. He rolled his eyes at her, grabbing her by the waist. Her heart fluttered at the reaction, and she laughed mischievously.

"Will you stop?"

"No, are you?"

"Samira," he whined, burying his face into her neck. "There's so much going on, and you'll be gone tomorrow. This isn't fair."

"It took you a week to admit that," Samira mentioned, wrapping her arms around his neck. "But you're going to your family."

"I know," Harry mumbled, letting go. Through his indifferent tone, Samira recalled Harry talking about his family just once—he had distanced himself, only because he thought they were too good for him.