Peach // H.S.

Two.

✣ ✣ ✣

"'M Harry."

Wow.

He's quite literally the most attractive man you've ever seen.

A soft tingle rises through your body and tickles from your toes to the top of your head. The fuzzy feeling acts as a painter, and dusts your cheeks with a gentle blush. It was almost like you were covered with the faded lipstick from your relatives after being peppered with kisses after a job well done, like after your school's rendition of Our Town when you were much younger. Aw. Such a fond memory.

His emerald eyes flicker with curiosity as he gives you a quick up and down glance, letting his pouty lips curl up into a teasing smirk. He cocks an eyebrow, dragging a large hand up to pull his burning cigarette from his mouth and ash it.

That smile.

Pearly bunny teeth.

And no, this isn't a dream like you're thinking to yourself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry..."

Music begins to fill the dance hall once again, the hiss from a high hat along with the deep bass rumbling deep within your ribcage having an almost intoxicating effect on your judgement. Or was it just his stare? Either way...

"You never answered my question, by the way. And have you got a name, hm? I don't think I heard one." He teases.

Your eyes go wide once you realize he's right. How many times are you going to zone out tonight? It's getting to be a little embarrassing.

"Oh... oh! Marisol, that's my name. You can mix it up into a nickname if that's easier, though. My girl friend Tawny usually says Mari - kind of just a quicker thing for her to call out. I don't smoke, either. Or at least not usually!"

Why on Earth was your response a verbal Picasso painting?

Harry's face lights up in entertainment in response to your nervous babbling, sucking in his bottom lip to rest between his teeth as he chews on it lightly.

"I don't bite, dolly. Haven't got cooties either.  You're not one of those fast type'a girls, yeah?"

Humiliation was apparently the theme for the night, and you're practically kicking yourself for not paying more attention to where Tawny could have run off to. She's always been a good wing woman to you, so why can't she be here now?

"Stop thinking so much and just dance with me. Promise I won't make a move on you, dig? Unless you wanna beg me to, then I'd be more than happy to burn rubber back to my pad and spend the night with you. Y' seem young, though... how old?"

You glance down at yourself and let out a hot huff of air though your nose. Is this his way of flattery? Tawny must have lied about this stupid shirt making you look like you had bigger breasts, but you'll talk to her about that later.

"I'm eighteen in a month."

"Perfect then, yeah? Nineteen fine with you?"

A sudden laugh is all that you can let out in the moment, you've never felt more flustered in your entire life! His facial expression softens at your wordless response, and he fixes his posture to appear more confident once you give a small nod and pull your lips into a thin smile.

Suddenly you feel a cold sensation of metals on your hand, and you jump back in surprise.

"Come on, snake. Let's rattle."

The accent's still something new to you, and you let your body trail behind his as he drags you out to an empty spot in the main floor.

The singer for the next band of the night begins to mumble something about how excited they are to be there tonight, inciting a few cheers and whistles from the still rowdy crowd.