sunflower - h.s.

thirty four

When I was fifteen, I started talking to this boy that went to an all-boys school near my all-girls school. I was head over heels for him within a week - told all my friends, snuck out of class to go meet him at a park between our schools, texted constantly, y'know. I would've done anything for him, as one does when fifteen and in love.

So when he asked for photos of me completely naked, I threw off my clothes and took some photos. He replied with some sixteen-year-old-bullshit about how beautiful I was and I felt on top of the world.

Until the next day when a group of boys from his school cornered me on my walk home from school and tried to take pictures up my skirt and down my shirt, telling me they needed to see if the real thing compared to the pictures that had been spread all over their school.

After I called Holland crying in anger and she had a very lawyer-voice-heavy meeting with my headmistress and headmaster from the boy's school, the boy had been suspended and I went home with the confidence that I would never send those kinds of photos to anyone ever again.

Well, up until now.

"Christ, I'm pale." I say to myself as I pose in front of the mirror in my room, propped on my knees in nothing but one of Harry's button ups. My chest was pale and tinged pink from my clear embarrassment just from taking these photos. I took them quickly, looking them over before sending them to Harry - not giving myself a chance to overthink it.

See, the problem with the whole me not being able to do anything because of the whole fainting/concussion ordeal three days ago was that I had been confined to my bed since then. I hadn't left my room unless I was getting food or coffee, which Harry usually cooked or made for me and ushered me onto the couch to lay down. I hadn't been in the studio, hadn't watched TV, hadn't even cracked open a book, hadn't had sex with Harry in three days. I was bored, stir-crazy, and horny.

I was hoping that these photos may convince Harry that I was actually feeling a lot better and was ready to, I dunno, have the absolute sense fucked out of me again.

My head still hurt occasionally, but with the amount of sleep I'd gotten over the past few days, I was genuinely feeling better. Well, I was feeling good enough to go back to the studio and make myself food and other things.

I hold my phone tightly in my hand, waiting for either a response from Harry or for him to burst through my door with that look he gives me when he wants to see me naked - eyebrows raised just slightly, mouth pulled into that arrogant grin of his. I pace around my room until my phone vibrates with a text.

Harry: You should be in bed, darling

I frown. Seriously? Nothing?

Flor: You should be in bed with me.

I hit send, pull on some underwear, and walk out onto the balcony, looking out over Harry's backyard at him and Mitch and Adam sat around smoking together. Harry's staring at his phone in his hands, rubbing the back of his neck.

Harry: Once you're not concussed, I'm all yours.

I roll my eyes and head to the railing of the balcony, leaning over it and shouting:

"Oi! Romeo!" Three heads turn to look up at me, partially naked and yelling down at them. Harry covers Mitch and Adam's eyes.

"Yes, Juliet?" Harry calls back, smiling up at me before placing whatever they were smoking between his lips and taking a drag. I glare at him before shooting him my middle finger. He laughs. "She speaks yet she says nothing."