"You said, no you sang, you sang that everything was gonna be alright. You said that we'll be alright, Harry. But did you mean that?"
Where Belle Olivia Granger encounters five young boys who happen to be in the biggest boyband on the planet, and sh...
For the first time in too long, I slept through the night. However, I almost wish I hadn't.
I want to spend every waking moment that I have left with my Georgia Rose wide awake, because I know they're fleeting.
I fought for as long as I could against a deep slumber that threatened to take me into the darkness, eyes fluttering closed until I would inevitably force them open again. At a moment like this where my typically tired eyes would pry themselves agape thanks to the lack of silence within my rampant brain, I would find myself gripping the smooth white spheres around my neck, hearing Belle's sweet voice in my head to help finally null myself to sleep, but when she's actually right next to me, I'd rather not sleep at all, instead stay wide awake.
Late last night after my sore muscles stumbled up the stairs with Belle in my arms, I laid her small body on the bed, instantly covering her exposed skin with my silk sheets until I could find something to clothe her with. Upon laying her down, she instantly curled up on her side and rested her hands delicately in front of her face, shoulders rising and falling with each breath she took.
I couldn't wipe the smile from my lips, practically having to force my gaze away so I could go clean myself up. Trying to stay as quiet as possible, not that it would matter because Belle could sleep through a tornado, I dug through my drawers to find a pair of old pajama pants before heading back downstairs to clean up the dinner we never got to eat.
What a shame, because it was damn good.
As I stood at the sink to wash the dishes, water gushing from the faucet and running over my hands that still stung from the feeling of Belle's skin beneath them, I reveled in the memory of her around me, soft voice moaning my name. The thoughts alone were enough to make me hard again, face going blank as I dozed off, only coming back when the water became too hot against my skin.
I hissed, dropping the bowl I was cleaning with a loud crash. "Shit," I muttered.
Simply giving up cleaning and deciding to save it for the morning, I stumbled into the living room to find my discarded shirt on the floor. I picked it up, the striped fabric soft in my hands and the smell of gardenias left over from her still present within the dark red and navy threads.
In a way, Belle is like a gardenia herself, pure and gentle even though she believes herself to be anything but. Her outer beauty is like a rose... my Georgia Rose. With eyes so golden that they shine even in the darkest of times, lips so full and cherry red that make her smile all the more dazzling, and hair so dark and thick that raven-haired beauty only seems like a term created solely for her, it's impossible not to compare her to the world's most beautiful flower.
However, beauty can only get one so far if they have an ugly heart.
Belle Olivia Granger speaks her mind even when she shouldn't, it's impossible to know what she's thinking thanks to the hard front she puts up, and most of the time, getting any form of true empathy from her is harder than winning the lottery, but her heart is bigger than anyone else's I've ever known.
