My Best Friends Wedding [Zarry Stylik]©️

The 'what happens after this' thing

Z, 

Now, maybe my emotions got the best of me, and the liquid courage gave me a little bit too much courage. I didn't regret it, mind you. It was the most beautiful thing ever. Having Harry like that opened to me and so willing was beautiful. He was beautiful. I loved every second of it. I was not drunk, and neither was he. He tasted too sweet and sounded so pure and I had him all to myself. I would love to make love to him every day - I don't know anyone who wouldn't. 

But I understood his panic. It was too much, too good, and too fast. It could get overwhelming. I saw the wheels turn in his mind and I wondered if we had made a mistake. If I had read things wrong and broken a beautiful friendship. I sat up next to him, seeing conflicted and confused. I touched his back softly, then his hair and he leaned into my touch - so that was a good thing.

Had I hurt him? Had I been too rough with my devotion?

Harry looked back at me, and he seemed so confused by it all. He wasn't crying, or regretful. He looked at me with those beautiful green eyes, full of emotion. They jumped from my eyes, down to my lips and then, he reached out to me and kissed me. 

Such a soft kiss, it was. His lips were on mine, feeling me softly and tasting me. Our tongues brushed slightly, sending shivers up my spine. Just as it was getting good, Harry pulled away from me but kept his forehead on mine. 

"I have loved you for such a long time..." He whispered with honesty. 

I looked at him, stunned by his comment. I wanted to say I did too, and I was going to say it, but Harry got up from the bed, putting on his pyjama bottoms again, but being shirtless. I felt he had lifted a wall between us. 

Harry wandered around the bedroom, thinking to himself and I gave him the room to do so. I didn't want to push against him, pressure him or demand more than he could give. 

Outside the rain poured with a bit more intensity and the wind blew, but the storm was also here. Quietly, I sat against the headboard of the bed, putting the decision-making power all on him. Watched him wander around, with hands on his lips, in the pyjamas I had offered him as a secret Christmas gift - he held onto the string on the pants, playing with it. Harry had markings of my lips on his neck, down his solder and a solid handprint of my hand on his arm. He had been so mine for a moment. 

So, he paced. And paced. Then, Harry wandered a bit more. 

I was becoming concerned because he was too deep into his thoughts, and I feared what would come out. 

"Harry-" He raised a finger at me, quieting me down and I respected his time. "Harry, we're going to have to talk-"

"Give me a moment-"

"I gave you a solid half hour-"

"Excuse me while I process the fact that we just..." The words got lost in his lips, as he stood to look at me. I give him room to voice it. "I can't even say it."

"Was it that bad?"

"No," He answered. "It was wonderful."

"Okay," I responded as he began pacing again. "Harry, please talk to me. Don't go into silent mode-"

"I don't go into silent mode, you're the one who does that."

"You're doing it now."

"I'm thinking."

"Then, use your words, baby."

Harry stopped in front of the bed, with hands on his waist and looking like the most beautiful creature ever.