ripped jeans | hes

nineteen

vote n comment pretty please :) -G

pertichor (noun) - the pleasant, earthy, smell after rain

"So, do you bring all your dates here?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "I don't bring anybody out here."

I admiringly watched as Harry bagged the leftover sandwiches and now-empty beer cans.

Hours, that seemed just like mere minutes, had slipped right past Harry and I. I listened deliberately to whatever Harry had to say, no matter if it was about his dumb hatred for cats or for his stepdad, and he did the same for me.

There was something about the night that caused us to let out guards down. We were completely defenseless against each other, and I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.

"I don't believe that for one second."

"And why is that, sunshine?" He combed a hand through his perfectly messy hair, innocent curiosity laced through his slow-paced voice.

Harry moved up so our knees were pressed against each other, ending the physical space between us. His bare knees that poked out from under his ripped jeans were cold against my clothed knees.

My body tensed from his relatively unknown touch before quickly relaxing. My body somehow knew that Harry won't hurt me, while my mind was still cautious of him.

I looked up the dazzling sky before looking back down to Earth. "I'm sure you see a lot of girls. In fact, I'm sure you're seeing plenty of girls right now."

Harry chuckled darkly. "I mean-"

"Stop, don't say anything," I rested my hand on his lower thigh. "But I know how this works. You take me out to a romantic date, we have a good time, laughing all night. I fall head-over-heels for you and your smooth tricks, we go back to your place, and we end up banging. I never hear from you again, and you move onto the next girl you're talking to."

Harry stared at me for a second, a unpleased frown on his lips and his eyes cold. He seemed to be trying to figure something out- trying to figure me out.

"That's not exactly what I was thinking," he frowned. "But I wouldn't mind the banging part..."

I laughed softly, not wanting to be too loud or the precious moment would be ruined. "You? Me? Banging? Not happening."

Harry took a brief moment to look me in the eyes, his olive eyes studying mine. "No, but seriously, why can't I do something nice without you thinking I'm trying to have sex with you?"

I tightly pursed my lips together, shrugging carelessly. "I dunno. It's my natural instinct to be defensive, I guess."

"I think you have previous experience," he softly pressed his lips together. "That's why you think like that."

I scoffed dryly. "Is it that obvious?"

Harry ran a tongue across his bottom lip. "I'm not going to lie to you, Addison. Yes, I am a sexual person, I enjoy sex, I have had a good amount of sex. I do have a few girls I'm currently talking to, but it's nothing serious, believe me. But I don't...ah, how do I say this?"

He brushed his fingertips against the back of my hand, which still rested peacefully on his leg. "I don't...treat women at my own disposal, you know? I'm not some sort of pervert who disrespects women and thrives off fucking them on a daily basis."

"Hmm." I hummed, not knowing what to say.

Harry was giving me exactly what I wished guys gave to me: honesty. He wasn't saying what I wanted to hear, but what I needed to hear.