The Fence || h. s.

28 // Sweet In My Memory

A/N: The smut chapters will be marked as // instead of || to give you guys a warning because I know some of you may be here for the soft content only, so be prepared to skip! Also, the picture of Cherry above will come up sometime in the chapter...

Am I aware that Harry has got a suspicious-looking locked door in his house? Yes. Have I ever gotten curious enough to ask him what's hidden behind the aforementioned door? Absolutely not. 

I've never been the one to pry, but now that he's leading me up the dreaded pink stairs—his hand still clutching mine to make sure I don't run off—I am seriously regretting not asking him about it sooner. Especially when he starts typing in a digit code, which lets me know that whatever he's got in there is important enough to warrant an extra level of security.

As soon as Harry notices my pale face, he lets out a short chuckle. "Don't give me that look. I am not taking you to a bloody sex dungeon."

"Pity..." I quip to cover up my nerves that have been raging inside me since our confrontation back in Harry's kitchen. How am I supposed to stay calm after he had essentially confessed his attraction to me?

You don't find me getting intimidated by a man that often...but with Harry's intense eyes piercing into me, it's really hard to keep my cool.

"It could still be a uh, a sex, um, attic?" I add weakly.

"We both know you're the more likely one to have sex toys hidden around your house." I mean, he's not wrong. "C'mon."

With a playful smirk on his lips, he tugs me forward and into an empty white corridor. My nervousness continues to grow with each step we take towards the door at the end of the hallway. When Harry finally slides it open, I am surprised to see a library; and a very beautiful one, at that.

The walls are lined with long bookshelves filled to the brim with various novels and magazines. A small fireplace sits in the middle of the room, although I'm unsure why Harry would need one in Malibu, of all places. The entire space radiates cosiness, but above everything else, it is so reminiscent of Harry's quirky personality.

"You made me all anxious for this?" I huff, snatching my hand away from him in mock annoyance. 

"It's like I always say; you're very easy to trick," he chuckles, whilst walking towards the centre of the room. There's a coffee table topped with several candles that he lights up, bathing the space in an orange glow. Only then do I realise that all the windows are suspiciously covered with drapes, blocking the sunlight and creating an intimate atmosphere.

On the outside, I keep up my nonchalant act. But oh, my insides... they are in shambles indeed. 

Is he trying to seduce me? 

Not that I would mind hooking up with Harry—he's insanely attractive and saying I've never considered it would be a massive lie—but it's the after that I'm afraid of. My ultimate worst fear is the other person catching feelings and wanting more than just a physical relationship. This is exactly what I've been going through with Emil.

Pushing this worrisome train of thought aside, I take a seat on one of the pillows thrown onto the ground. "Reading in the dark isn't very good for your eyes," I comment.

He laughs good-naturedly, picking up a thin book from the shelf. It's impossible to miss his movements—fidgety and agitated—as he makes his way back to me. "No, but this feels rather climatic, don't you agree?" 

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I murmur, "Yeah, guess so." 

What I really want to say is that I am not ready for us to potentially take our relationship to a whole new level. That the Emil situation has taught me a valuable lesson about sleeping with friends, which is as follows: don't do it.