Beige

Chapter Eighteen*

Before we start I just want to say that this is my first time ever writing smut so please be nice!! That's all, enjoy ;)

Alexis Monpettit

There's something so special about waking up in Paris with Harry's arms wrapped around me. We fell asleep as soon as we crawled into bed, worn from the adrenaline that had been coursing through our blood.

There's something even more special about this morning.

It's the first morning of us being together.

That's what we decided we're going to call it; whatever we have between us. I let my brain get the best of me and told Harry that I wasn't ready for the titles of boyfriend and girlfriend. I'm not ready to have that level of commitment to someone else. I told him that I needed to talk to Christy before we could have another conversation about the idea, which he completely understood with no hesitation.

He amazes me. Every second we're together he just gets it. Gets me. He never pushes my boundaries or makes me feel guilty for questioning everything. I never second-guess myself when I talk around him because he hangs onto every word like he wants to hear me speak.

He's so perfect.

And I'm terrified that my imperfections are going to mess this whole thing up.

I can't help but think that somehow this is all going to go terribly wrong. That something's going to happen and the flip will switch, the lights will turn off, and leave me in the darkness.

Alone.

Every single person that surrounds me keeps telling me the same thing "to live in the now, stop worrying about the future." But I can't stop it. It's not like I can just turn off my brain to stop thinking about what the future holds. Especially when the thought of the future was my only source of hope for part of my life- it was the only thing that I could hold onto.

After a night of whatever torture my father decided to make me suffer, I would ride my bike down to the beach and think about a future where I wasn't some sad little girl crying over her daddy issues. My daydreams about the future consisted of me running away, somewhere far like Washington or Oregon. Somewhere where the forest would hide me, so that I would never be found, but also a place where I could still visit my sweet friend, the ocean.

Those dreams are what I would envision whenever the pain would settle. I would close my eyes and picture the tall trees that surround me, almost as though they are soldiers in a field, standing tall over me like a shield of protection. I would walk towards the edge of the forest, where a beautiful beach would be waiting for me, not a soul in sight except for mine. It made me smile, picturing myself making it to the other side of the country, far away from the devil that lives in Massachusetts.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by an arm pulling me into the body that lies next to me. I look down at the mound of chocolate curls that lay across my chest, small even breaths slip through his lips telling me he's still asleep. His left arm rests across my body, as his right somehow slipped its way under me during the night. I am fully trapped from going anywhere, but it's not like there is any other place I would rather be.

I lift my index finger up to his arm, taking my time to trace every tattoo that's embedded into his skin. I start at the top, lightly brushing my finger over the large ship on his bicep, I move my finger down, studying every line that the needle left behind of the biological heart on his sleeve. Continuing further down, I trace out the name Jackson that lies right above the rose on the side of his elbow. The way his arm lays across my body leads me right down to the anchor tattoo that rests on his wrist.