enchanted | h.s

11

The one and only person in the changing room was Harry, doing everything but changing to Rose's disappointment.

He didn't even raise his head to look away from his phone when Rose entered, acting like he wasn't the one bringing her here in the first place.

So Rose just stood there using her time to check Harry out once again, because why the fuck not. She wasted years of potential staring at the other because she was too busy trying not to get killed by him, but now...now she could catch up.

Harry was fast to put his phone aside and sit back, letting his eyes roam freely over Rose's stature, suddenly a bit to focused on the girl before him for the other's liking.
Rose didn't need much to get flustered especially when she was eyed so shamelessly that it made her feel vulnerable and tiny. She loved it a little bit too much.

To prevent herself from pressing her thighs together at Harry doing nothing but looking at her (because dear God wouldn't that be embarrassing) she muttered something along the lines "I need to use the toilet" before basically running out of the room only to lock herself in one of the stalls and take in deep breaths for minutes.
Where the fuck was her bad bitch persona hiding right now when she needed her the most?

.

"Got any new ones since the last time?"-Rose heard Harry asking but since she didn't have an idea what he was talking about, she stepped back into the room before answering.

And then she saw it.

What she feared the most.

Harry got his hands on her notebook and he didn't wait for Rose's permission to open it.

Rose just stood there with her mouth shut, hoping, even though she knew it was in vain, that Harry will somehow go through her drawings without noticing he was in at least half of them.

The other hummed as he skimmed over the precise movements of Rose's hand until he reached the first drawing that was distinguishably different from the others.

"You draw people too?"

And that's when Rose's heart stopped.

"Y-Yeah. I need it for my art class."-she murmured.

Harry just nodded, his eyes still focused on the paper before him.

He didn't get it.

Make him stop now, Rose screamed within herself, knowing damn well what was on the other page. But Harry didn't stop.

Of course he didn't.

"Wait."-Harry whispered and Rose knew it was over.

On that exact page was a drawing of Harry's hand. The right one. Not the one that was portrayed on the other pages cause he mostly held his cigarette in the left one and Rose really liked how he looked when he smoked.

The problem with the right hand was that it had a tattoo. A very recognizable one that was now gawking back at Harry from the sheets of Rose's notebook.

Harry flipped the page back, taking a better look at the drawings he already dismissed.

"Are these my hands?"

Rose thought she was going to faint.

How the hell was she supposed to explain to Harry that this wasn't some creepy obsession of her, that it was art?

She was going to get beat to death no matter what she says. So she told the truth.

"Yeah."-Rose breathed out carefully.

She casted a glance towards Harry only to see him sitting still as if he didn't hear the answer.

And then he smirked. Rose thought she was losing it.