LOGIC: A SHORT STORY [h.s au]

part two

*sexual content and cheating

For almost two weeks, the closest thing Harry got to being with Daisy again was when he fucked Elena and thought of her. And with his hand and the shower and nothing but vivid memories that plagued his waking moments to a point of tortuous ardor.

She'd seeped into him, woven herself with daisy chains around his throat and lungs and cock. And she didn't mean to. But that's just how she was in regards to the opposite sex. Harry wasn't special in that way. She'd preyed on many men like Harry before, ripping from them their affection and attention and leaving them in crumpled ruins without a care. Playthings.

For a week, when he wasn't in class himself, he found himself loitering near the English department building, hoping to magically run into Daisy.

He was hooked. A man who walked through his life with a factual, logical brain, a man who craved nothing but stability and ease, a man who had the least addictive personality that he knew of, was tossed haphazardly into the storm that was Daisy Montgomery. And he enjoyed it. It was teetering on masochistic of him, but he found he didn't care.

It was on a sunny spring-born Thursday afternoon that he spotted her coming out of class. Short plaid skirt, a light navy sweater that looked like it could be a mans which irked him tremendously, white frilly socks, and oxfords. He had to bite his knuckle to keep himself from moaning at the sight of her. A fucking vision, whatever hell and heaven were made of, that was what she looked like. For a moment, the image of her bent over a dark wooden staircase, skirt hiked up, and book bag on the ground engrossed him entirely, almost into a fit of fleshy desire.

Oblivious at first, Daisy walked until she spotted the tall figure of Harry out of her peripheral vision. She hid the smirk that begged to be displayed. Of course he'd come to see her and she didn't have to lift a finger.

"Harry," she purred, dangling there in front of him, knowing full well that his cock was growing in the entrapment of his pants just looking at her.

His voice caught in his throat, along with his breath and his sanity. "Daisy," is all he said with a nod.

"Walk me home?" She raised perfectly groomed brow, although it was less of a question and more of a demand.

"Sure, yeah," he replied, taking his position next to her.

Daisy, no filter and no need to do anything but what her tar-black heart desired, turned to Harry and told him, "You should come to New York with me this weekend."

"I have a girlfriend who will wonder where I am..." Harry said, sounding defeated after the joyous leap felt in his chest at her offer.

"Like I said, she can come with if she's into that...if she doesn't mind sharing you with me." A devilish glint clouded her eye with perversity.

"She's very straight-edged. She wouldn't like that at all."

"Well then how about just you come?" She emphasized the word come.

Their steps had fallen in unison. A rhythmic clicking and clacking against pavement marching toward her apartment in that old brick building laden with ghosts and whatever else dwelled there.

"I—I don't do these sort of things—these spontaneous things," Harry admitted.

Something in Daisy made him want to do those things, though.

"Oh, but you do. You already have." Harry shook his head, begrudgingly agreeing because she was sort of right.

"That was...." he racked his brain for the right words, "a lapse of character. These kinds of things are complicated. I like simple."