"They still write poems about you, you know?"
He looked at me strangely, "Why?"
I shrugged, "You are a tragedy, people love to dwell on those."
He smiled to himself, "There is nothing tragic about grasping what you want... even if it's only for a mo...
The music was blaring so loud, Anna couldn't hear her own thoughts over it. She was moving along with the heavy bass, screaming the lyrics of the song she knew all too well along with Harry.
It was the last day of Harry's tour. He'd just finished his show in Inglewood and they were celebrating tonight.
Harry was wearing the same black and golden suit he'd worn at the show and looked absolutely mouth-watering. She couldn't take her eyes off of him for a minute, even if she tried. Her man looked delicious and she planned to ogle him all night. She could write a long essay on how delectable he looked and still it wouldn't do him justice.
Both had a substantial amount of alcohol in their systems and even though they were surrounded by other people yelling and dancing along, nobody existed for them other than each other.
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To say that Harry looked good would be an understatement. Harry looked godly. He put the sun to shame with how brilliant he looked that night.
When his arms wound around her and pulled Anna against himself, she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck. The air was fairly hot and sticky considering it was mid-July, but that didn't seem to bother anyone.
One couldn't make out each other's faces clearly amidst the flashing disco lights, but even in this lighting, Harry could say that Anna's eyes looked exquisite. Pupils blown, heavy-lidded and lust-driven; Harry's kryptonite.
