The Night I Met Harry

I was consumed in his warmth. He’d been trying to wake me up, as I lay reluctant.

Harry:
“Come on, I want to make you something. You haven’t eaten.”

I felt limb for what had seemed like days lying between the sheets of Harry’s bed. It felt like a fantasy, falling asleep in his arms now having the bliss of waking up to him. The sheets were soft, matching the surface of his skin. My hands covered my face, concealing the brightness of the room, as Harry continued. I peaked at him through my fingers, sitting up as he embraced me in a protective hug. There was something I adored about the outline of his torso through his white t-shirt, though I’d rather it bare. He felt warm and comfortable as I listened to the pace of his heart, adding to my feeling of fatigue. His curls were messy. The touch of them, creating goose bumps where my neck met my collarbone. I looked up at him, loosing myself in his eyes as he moved in. I cherished his lips. He kissed me passionately, lovingly, as if to rid me of my drowsiness. His hands resting on the round of my jaw line, our breathing unsteady. I missed him as he pulled back, eyes remaining closed in his attempt to catch his breath.

Winter:
“What’s wrong?”

I’d begin to worry before he could answer. I reached down intertwining his hands with my own before gently rubbing with the tip of my thumbs. He opened his eyes slowly to divulge to me his beautiful orbs of green to my matching.

Harry:
“Nothing.”

He gave me a smile before removing his touch, walking across the room towards his dresser. He pulled it open, reaching in and pulling a white shirt from the top. I watched him as he returned, urging me to raise my arms up. I obliged as he slipped the fabric over my head, concealing my bra and underwear and pulling my hair out to lie on the facade of my chest. I took notice of how careful he was with me. He grabbed my hand again, pulling me up and leading me out of the room.

He lifted me up, kissing my nose as I wrapped my legs around him, my arms around the nape of his neck. His dimples were shown as he sat me on the chair nearest the kitchen. I watched him as he grabbed some things from the refrigerator before heading over to the stove. It stood in the center of the kitchen lined with counters between us, making it possible for him to watch me as he cooked. His house was beautiful. I rolled the chair around to better face him as he began cracking eggs into a bowl. I wore only his shirt over my underclothes now, which stopped slightly above my knees. Our silence didn’t last.

Harry:
“You okay?”

He asked me that a lot, though always replied with the same answer. I was always okay with Harry.

Winter:
“I’m okay.”

I moved my hair away from my face, to better see him as I cuddled my knees unto my chest under the large t-shirt.

Harry:
“Cold?”

He picked up on everything in his protective nature. I was beginning to love this side of him the more I witnessed it. I looked away from him briefly, taking in the sights of his home. There were tall clear windows throughout the house that were beautifully draped with burgundy fabric. The perspective of his view was pleasant, though making me slightly conscious of what I was wearing.

Harry:
“It’s not as easy for people to see in as it is for us to see out…”

I nodded as I took in his words, shaking off the fear of another seeing me other than Harry. His house stood alone, so his closest neighbor had to be blocks away anyway. I got up as he flipped the egg and cinnamon filled toast over in the hot buttered skillet to begin checking the cabinets for plates.

Harry:
“Nearest the sink.”

He instructed, as I grabbed the dishes from the top shelf. I placed them on the counter beside him, grabbing two forks from the dish rack before watching him from behind. He grabbed a bowl of strawberries and what looked to be cool whip from the frig before returning back to the stove. The view of him cooking for me was calming. My impulses kicked in as I slowly wrapped my arms around his torso, cuddling my chin to his back as he continued. I felt a vibration through our entire as he chuckled deeply. I slid my hands down so that they met the brim of his boxers. He placed the French toast on one of the plates before turning to peck my lips softly and repeatedly. The strawberries were sprinkled over the plate before scooping a dollop of whipped cream. He clutched my hand, taking the syrup from the counter and dousing it over the bread. I was taken aback as he grabbed me turning off the stove and lifting me up to sit on the counter before resting between my legs. The position was intimate sending signals of butterflies through my stomach. I watched him as he took the utensil between his fingers cutting the bread with the fork, being sure to include the other ingredients before bringing it up to my lips. I took it amid my teeth obediently. I’d only had French toast one other time in my life but never quite like this. This was Harry’s. He watched me as I chewed, biting a piece of his own from the same fork. I pulled him closer, fingering through his curls as he closed his eyes briefly.

Winter:
“Oh my gosh, yuuummmm… what’d you do to it?”

He graced me with the indents of his dimples again before laughing softly.

Harry:
“Strawberry extract… A little Nutella. I’m glad you like it.”

It was odd. I looked at him in awe. Getting the impression he’d be doing most of the cooking between us. I sat and thought intensely.

Winter:
“I never had a guy cook for me.”

My tone was honest. Confessing. I’d always cooked for Scott, not only because I loved him but because I felt it my place. He cuddled into my neck placing soft kissing as he chewed. He drew back slowly as he pinched a strawberry from the plate, bringing it between his teeth. I laughed deeply at his silent question, moving in to take half of it from his lips. I kissed profoundly, slightly biting his bottom lip in satisfaction.

Harry:
“I’ll always cook for you.”

There was a seriousness in his voice, as his eyes locked with mine. His warm hands ran up the bare of my back under the shirt, his fingers therapeutic to my skin. I smiled down at him, as I enjoyed the burst of satisfaction he gave me continually. I couldn’t help but notice the feelings that had began to grow between us since the night I’d met him. He was becoming a priority of mine and everything about his existence, important to me. I’d been beginning to notice that this was more than just a fling, and in that moment it didn’t matter what time it was… or even what lie I’d have to tell when I got home. Right now, I was with Harry. My hands rested around his waist now.

Winter:
“I want more.”

Notes

Tell me if you like, okay. Thanks for reading.