The Armor (Prince Harry fanfic #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Everyone moved along the village in cheers, as the wedding couple was welcomed with open arms of hugs. Harry watched upon the crowd as food was passed around. Lucy was still gone. Harry realized that she hadn't left alone, going with some women, but the women had returned. Music started playing, mixing cultural and whatever was on the radio for music of the rest of the world. The music shifted uneasily if the radio was on, going in and out, while the cultural music was played non-stop by musicians of the village.

"Come along," said a woman who pulled on Harry. "Come dance." She moved her hips.

Harry's eyed the crowd, trying to find Lucy, but she wasn't there. He went with the woman with dragging feet.

The music was fast and pumping, up and down, in and out. The young people danced in the center as the elderly watched on. The students from class were on the outer reaches as Harry was pulled inward. The bride and groom shifted with the crowd, fun and fast. Harry knew this type of dancing, the young within the old, dancing to the beat, moving your body so that it touched all. Harry had been to some clubs in his time.

The woman had no problem touching Harry as even as he tried to escape. She pulled him closer. Harry threw his hands in the air, refusing to touch her. His eyes scanned the crowd, watching for Lucy, wondering if she saw him, what she thought. But as the world turned around him, he didn't see her. The woman pushed against him, and he kept his distance enough. He told himself not to worry about Lucy, because she didn't like him in that way. He told himself that he wasn't sure if he liked her that way, which was a lie and he knew it. However, this wasn't the time to be grinding against a woman like he would've done in his younger days.

Harry flowed with the music, escaping the younger woman. She didn't noticed as she went to another person, enjoying her time. He couldn't push his way through the crowd so he danced along, weaving throughout the pumping bodies. Sweat tickled his skin, and his clothes felt too heavy. Harry was completely used to the heat, opening his arms like an old friend to the sun and desert. He didn't feel the heat until his eyes found Lucy. Her eyes were ablaze.

She wasn't angry and there was no misunderstandings in her eyes. There wasn't pain, like she hadn't noticed anything that he did. But he knew she knew. The only pain came when her eyes flicked away, finding something else in the crowd. The pain punched him in the stomach, taking his breath away.

Lucy sat on the outside ring of the people, not belonging but not leaving. Her eyes watched everything. She was quick to react with eye movement when a scream came or a loud sound. There was a pop from the fire and she tensed. Her hand rubbed absentmindedly at her arm again, but not that fighting scar. It was like she never blinked, never losing herself within the crowd. Lucy would never say it aloud, but she didn't trust the large crowds. It wasn't the people that moved around from within; it was the people who moved in and out, leaving and coming. Those were the people that didn't belong. It had always been those people she didn't trust.

She hadn't been watching for Harry. Really, she had forgotten all about him, all about what happened during the wedding ceremony, which it wasn't real. There was no point for her to think of feelings for him, she decided. But pain stretched across her muscled and armored heart when her gaze fell upon Harry within the crowd, a woman dancing across his body. She found him there, and his head popped out and his eyes looked around, searching for something, before he was pulled back down. Her eyes weren't averted, and the eternal pain quickly faded as Lucy pinched herself to bring her back to reality. Of course women would be all over him. There wasn't jealousy about it.

Lucy found herself almost confused why she didn't have jealousy about the woman who pressed her body to Harry's. Though, she didn't feel the need to press her body to his, to feel his body. He was a human being, not a sex toy. There wasn't a pang of jealousy over the woman, because Lucy knew where Harry slept at night. Lucy knew who he was as a human. He didn't do that. He wasn't like that. Interestingly, Lucy decided she didn't know much about him.

Still, her eyes watched him, and then he moved away from the woman, trying to somehow pry himself out of the situation. With nowhere to escape, he stayed in the crowd of swaying bodies until he stumbled out of the heap. His eyes met hers. Lucy noticed how his breath was taken away. There was a fear in his eyes, like he had done something wrong, when she didn't understand what he did. He could make his own choices.

One foot in front of another brought him over to her, where she stood perfectly still. Her eyes never left his as he walked, but he could feel the pressure from her gaze lift every time there was a scream or loud sound, distracting her only slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she would glance, never leaving him. He stood in front of her, not above or below her, eye level. His heartbeat quickened as he waited for her to say something. Where was the anger? Where was the pain? He wondered if she truly felt nothing toward him? Was he only ever destined to her friend?

A smile spread across her lips, so easily. "Are you having fun?" Her hair slowly came out in several places from her pulled back braid, which was a child had done for her.

"Yes." He cleared his throat, unable to deal with the deafening silence between them. "Are you?"

She shrugged. "Like I said, parties aren't really my thing." This time, for the once and only, Lucy was the first to look away. Her eyes went around Harry's head and trained on the woman who Harry danced with. In the most incredibly dubious way, she said, "Have fun." There was no double meaning in her voice or judgment in her eyes, like she was fully prepared to sleep outside tonight.

However, Harry had dated women before, and he didn't trust those words. Those words always meant trouble.

As his eyes rested upon her, he realized she didn't care, or at least she pretended not to care. However, he wanted her to feel. He wanted her to know. He wanted to show her the world, his world, and she had the chance to say no. She could've screamed it from the top of the mountains. She could've written it across all the tabloids. But he wanted her to feel.

Harry held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"