blind. 2 | styles (hariana)

VII. Heart's Against Your Chest, Lips Pressed To My Neck

~ Ariana ~

He froze as my eyes bore into his chest, unable to meet the intensity of his greens. They were so green, his eyes-- with tiny flecks of darker green.

His hands were still large, his arms still warm and defined with muscles, and his chest looked like home-- felt like it too. Little by little, every inch of him seemed to take my breath away.

He looked like a man, and I don't been that in its obvious sense but he looked almost surreal-- like a reverie. I looked down at our hands, taking in the tattoos that appeared on his wrists.

Maybe I should have moved away at that point, but he was drawing me in. I finally looked up, and felt my breathing hitch as I noticed his eyes had become sad.

His lips, plump and pink with desire were pursed and he looked so sad-- like he had remembered something that set his spirits low. In the past I would have kissed his frown and begged him to smile, but I remained silent as we both shared the stillness in the crowded hallway.

These were the lips that conveyed lies; lies I believed and trusted. So as much as I wanted to feel them against my own, I resisted.

I fought against the rolling tides as I stepped an inch away from Harry, releasing his hands. They fell to his sides and he glanced down at them, frowning even more.

The initial shock of seeing him resonated inside me. "What are you doing here?" I didn't mean to sound so bitter, and I regretted sounding so cold when he flinched. He looked just as surprised as me, if not more.

The folder he was holding still remained on the floor, causing me to sigh at his immobility. I crouched down and picked up the loose papers that had spilled from the folder.

Upon coming across my photo, I raised an eyebrow. These papers were about me, my name printed boldly on every page in the top right corner. This must be my folder-- now I was beyond confused.

I stood up again and held out the folder in front of Harry. "We have to stop meeting like this." I told him, waiting for him to take the folder from me. Once he did, he mumbled a thank you and shot me a small smile.

"So why do you have my folder?" I asked him curiously. If I wanted to forgive Harry, or at least give him a chance, I should begin with being civil. As annoying as it is to be constantly reminded by my intuition that this man lied to me throughout our entire relationship, I needed to be the bigger person.

"Kind of a long story." He murmured, holding the folder to his chest as he shrugged.

"Give me the shorter version and I'll take it from there." I insisted, folding my arms across my chest as I leaned against the wall next to us. As his eyes looked up from his feet, I breathed deeply-- every damn time.

"I'm an intern here." He started, leaning against the wall as well. "My job is to be your companion while you're here."

"So I'll be seeing you a lot, then." I sighed. He nodded as I groaned. "Wonderful."

"I'm sorry." He whispered, looking down again as I glanced his way. He looked so sad, enough to make me feel like the bad guy between us both.

We both knew forgiveness wasn't easy, especially when you don't know how to forgive. I wasn't even sure how I lasted this long, speaking to him I mean.

I wish we were alright again, or that nothing ever happened and we were still those two idiots who spend thirty pounds on dumplings. When everything was simple, and okay-- we were okay.

"I know you hate me," He trailed off. "I'll try not to bother you. You know what I'll just- I'll just go so--"

"Harry don't," I shook my head. "If it's your job then there's really nothing I can do. I don't need an apology."