Sweet | h.s.

twenty

Beverly

"Shit, shit!" I exclaim, frantically sticking the small earrings into the even smaller holes in my lobes. 

Harry had just arrived at my apartment to head over to Mel's, and I was not done getting ready yet. I quickly check my appearance once more, my hands smoothing down the top of my hair before running to the door. 

Slightly out of breath, I swing the door open and he looks a bit taken aback. 

"Hi, sorry." My chest rises quickly in attempt to catch my breath. I shoot him a smile. 

"Hi, love." He grins, his eyes still slightly wide as he steps through the doorway. 

"I'm almost done." I say, holding up one finger. 

"Take your time." He waves a hand like it's no big deal.

"You can um, sit in my room if you want while I finish up." I hesitate, my thumb pointing behind me towards the direction of my room.

"Sure." He nods, his curly hair bobbing slightly as his head does. We both walk towards the direction of my room, and I praise myself for cleaning it today. The lighting in my room was soft from the lamps as I push the door open, the scent of flickering candles filling my nose. My room was very white and neutral with warm lights everywhere. It was cozy for a single woman, for me. 

I glance at Harry as he takes in the space, his eyes moving around each inch of the room. 

"Cozy." He smiles, and I giggle. I watch as he makes his way to my bedside table, his head dangling down as he looks at a picture frame of me and my family. His hands stay locked together behind his back as he takes small steps around the room. 

"You can sit anywhere, I'm going to finish up." I say finally, and he looks at me from examining a picture frame hung on the wall and nods. He sits on a love chair next to the vanity shortly after, just as I was twisting the mascara cap back on. I can see him looking at me intently from my peripheral vision, and I glance over, immediately captivated by his green eyes.

"What?" I smile, as he begins to grin, his dimples making an appearance on his cheeks. 

"You look beautiful." He says, and I can feel my face getting hot. Looking away, I place the mascara tube back where it came from, and grab a lip gloss. Even the sound of his voice made me blush, the deep rasp, the accent, it was husky and manly and I wanted to melt.

"Thanks," I laugh, slightly awkwardly, as he continues to look at me, his hand grazing slightly over the smooth surface of my vanity. "I'm almost done." I reiterate again, smoothing the gloss over my lips. 

"Don't worry." He assures me. "I like your room." Again, he grins a cheeky smile and I playfully roll my eyes. 

"Why?" I ask, curious of what he has to say. 

"Dunno." He shrugs, his eyes roaming again. "It's warm, and holds small pieces of you." I raise an eyebrow. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Like, all the pictures. I feel like I know a little more about you." His finger and thumb get close together, creating a small space between them as I laugh. 

"How so?" 

"Like, this one." He reaches for a frame of me and my childhood dog that passed away a few years ago. I smile at the memory, nostalgic feelings flooding my heart. "You have an emotion in your eyes here, and I can tell this dog meant something to you." He examines slowly, and I'm amazed by his attention to detail. I guess that makes sense since he's an artist. I watch as he gently sets the frame down, a soft thud sounding when it makes contact with the table.