Flower Girl | h.s.

21.

Daisy

My world had shifted, turned upside down, and backwards again.

There had been many points in life where I felt like things wouldn't get better, my smile would only get so big one day, and I'd cry all day the next. I never once imagined the amount of laughs, the amount of soft kisses, sweet praises, thigh touches and incredibly tender moments of recognition that I had felt since I had met Harry.

And not to mention the sex.

I had never been in a relationship where my partner had acknowledged me in the way that Harry did. It wasn't acknowledgement, it was full royalty. I had never been so pleased in my life; his tongue was enough to make the world implode with just the flick of it. He knew how to move against me, and I think our teamwork spoke volumes. Every single moment that I felt his lips on my skin was a moment that I could have mistaken for heaven.

There were moments where I genuinely wasn't in belief that he was mine and I was his.

We hadn't become exclusive, but I could sense that we were both just too quiet to say anything about it. The label didn't matter to me, and I could tell that it didn't matter to him. We just were. The moments that pieced us together were what made me feel like we only had eyes for each other.

Those kinds of moments came when I was standing at the stove, looking over to Harry who took up the seat at the small table nook. He stretched his legs out on the bench seat, back resting against the wall to prop himself up. My vision stopped on him for a moment, taking him in.

The light gray sweatshirt sat on his shoulders, black shorts, and a black socks were part of the rotation of his nightwear, usually the aftermath of going for a run when he got home from work. I had the pleasure of watching him walk back into the house a sweaty mess, piling the laundry on the floor by the door. His hair was held back by the small claw clip, holding back the strands that were starting to get a bit long.

Harry worked the morning shift today, which meant we were able to spend the rest of the evening and tomorrow morning together, until I had to go to school. I didn't press my luck and think that I could stay whenever I had wanted, but his invitation seemed to be that he wouldn't let me go once we climbed into bed. So, I stayed until he would let me go.

The evening sun is brooding its way through the windows in the kitchen, adding sources of golden and bronzed rays to the counter spaces.

His eyebrows were scrunched gently as he held the small book in his grip, half of it folded underneath itself as I stirred the sauce that had started to bubble; I'm adding a bit of the extra ground beef to the sauce we had from dinner a few nights before.

"A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree, In casual simplicity."

His words melt into the air as I balance on one foot, stirring the sauce gently and thinking about the idea of the words that Harry lets out.

"Who's that?" I ask, turning my head to look over at him.

His eyes lift from the page to look up at me.

"Dickinson."

Our routine had somehow started to involve Harry reading out loud to me when we were alone, just filling the space with words and with thoughts. Sometimes he made comments about what we read, sometimes we just listened. He asked if an audiobook would be better to pass time, but the soothing nature of his voice was enough for me to be entertained. We didn't need anything else; even the record player stayed quiet as I just listened to him. It was intimate and raw, and made us have a conversation, which was only a simple reminder of how much I was truly falling for him.