You Can Let It Go [ZARRY]

Forty Nine

Zayn:

Flustered Harry, I thought through the warm haze of his words. There are few things sexier.

I held his gaze, held his hand in mine, and just took it in.

This moment with him.

The first of a thousand, I hoped. Millions.

I basked in it for a little longer, like a lovesick dope, until Harry lost his patience.

And that was cute as fuck too.

“Well?” he said. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“Yeah, I am.” I took his face in both my hands. “I love you, Harry. I’m stupidly, crazy in love with you. You’re it for me, too. Maybe forever, and I don’t want to be anywhere but where you are.”

I smiled, kissed him softly, my lips reverently touching and moving over his, my tongue gently tasting him, letting every emotion in me breathe into his mouth and taking his into mine with gentle, sucking pulls.

When we broke apart, I half-expected someone on the street to sneer or make a comment. But we had that perfect moment, and no one ruined it.

It was ours.

Harry heaved a breath and glanced around the city street, then back to me.

“Jesus, look at us. We’re kissing in public and holding hands, and instead of feeling like I’m jumping in a cold lake, I feel. . . fearless. And scared shitless at the same time. Not about what others think but because of us. You. I love you. I fucking love you so much. . . Hell, I love you so much, I told Forbes about it.”

I laughed and it mellowed into a deep, warm happiness.

His courage struck me all over again, and I knew with every particle of my being that if there was a man worth risking everything for, it was this one.

“And I want you to know, Zayn. . . I’m still fighting. For myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“All that shit that happened to me in Alaska? It doesn’t have a hold on me anymore, but it’s still there. And it might jump out at me. At us.”

“I know. And if it does, I’ll be there for you, Haz. I swear it.”

“I’m going to be there for myself too, if that’s even a thing.”

His glance darted away. “I’ve found a therapist. God, I feel lame just saying it. . .”

“Fuck no,” I said, gripping his hand tighter.

“Harry, that’s what you deserve. And yes, being there for yourself is a thing. It’s the most important thing.” I held him tight. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Okay, okay, let’s get out of here. Kissing and holding hands in public is one thing. I draw the line at crying like a baby.”

We peeled ourselves off the wall and walked down the street together, hand in hand, our fingers entwined.

After a few minutes, I couldn’t help myself.

A small laugh escaped me.

He glowered. “Don’t say it.”

“Harry. . .”

“Christ, here we go.”

“I love you. . .”

“Get it out of your system.”

“So. . . there you go.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes while I cackled a laugh.