Magnolia in May [H.S]

Part seventy-four.

Magnolia

— -

"Are you like a nervous flyer or something?" I snicker watching waves of flickering nerves waft over Harry's face. I twirl my hair around my finger, placing the hair clip around it and letting the rest pillow over the clip.

He scoffs out like I'm ridiculous, swatting me away playfully. "Me? No way!" I roll my eyes at his word emphasis, quickly catching onto the crystalline sarcasm.

He sits off to the side, running his eyes up and down my body as I stare in the mirror. I glance loosely, watching him fold clothes and tuck them away in a compact suitcase. The smallest of things suited him, how focused he looked doing tasks like that. His eyes fixated on one thing, the best of his work pressed into the little job.

It was moments like those that made me realize how hard I'd fallen, admiring even the most mundane gestures. Folding clothes for example.

He snaps his eyes, meeting with mine. It resembled more of a collision than anything. I deflect away, puckering my lips in the mirror before my attention is again stolen by him. "But you're wearing a skirt so I'll manage..." His smirk reeks of overwhelming amusement, I cock my head at him, smoothing my lips together.

He continues to grin at me, tauntingly raising his brow. In efforts to fluster me undressing my body with his faltering gaze, a prowling lip to match.

"That makes everything better hmm?" I fight back, giving him the exact energy. We were both fires growing off each other's heat, soon at its capacity, neither of us will be able to breathe with the smoke created.

"Sure does sugar tits."

I puff my lips out, smiling at the fact I'd gotten them perfectly done. The bright red displayed flawlessly, I take them in grazing my tongue over my set of teeth. I lean in just enough, imprinting a stamp of my lips on the mirror in front of me. Pulling back to stare at what I'd left on the glinting reflection. Something in my heart rumbles, inclining me to gawk thoroughly at the mark of my lips. Blinking my eyes hardly with the underlying feeling that trickled up my spine. Dinging there, a bell announcing its presence.

The fluff against my leg draws me out slowly, recalculating - and wondering why I felt so off. To aid me further I reach down, scooping the ball of fur in my hands. She wiggles in my grasp, forcing out of my arms to jump on the counter.

"You know if you told me a couple of months ago I'd be willingly going on the slopes- performing- with rich kids no less... I'd say you were full of shit." His expression screams in genuinity, even with the displaced smirk - especially with it. He was like that, letting important things out in a sort of joking tone to mask the array of emotion. At first, I didn't catch onto it, now I found myself wondering - checking all of his jokes to see if they had a double meaning.

I know he doesn't want to be mushy, so instead, I treat the statement with a soft smile, "Character development Mr. Styles... character development... no. But are you actually okay with all of this? It's not too late to flake on me." The insecurity intrudes on my words, stealing the dulcet smile from my red lips.

Harry stares at my shirt, tracing the fabric patterns with his eyes. Even though the button-down was see-through I knew he wasn't staring at my tits. He was staring to ponder, flicking his eyes to gather the scattered wit.

"Honestly, I'm... nervous... But you're right this is good... You wouldn't have caught me dead on the slopes and now I feel... okay— or I don't know... I feel so-so. And that means It's getting better..." He loosely avoids contact with my eyes, and when he does glance up it's short-lived, rooted in self-deprecation.