dear ana ❥ h.s.

you can feel it on the way home

Ever since Harry took me to the carnival, I haven't been able to get him out of my head. Everywhere I went, I thought of him; in the supermarket, the cafe, in the middle of work, at night before I went to bed, even in the shower. It was like a giant, shiny sign from God or something. I didn't even believe in God, that's how magical Harry was. He made me feel happy every single day.

For hours on end, me and Harry would talk on the phone, usually about nothing, but we would tell each other about our days. Our days were usually good, and every night, I looked forward to crawling in bed and receiving a call from him.

It was a week after the carnival when Harry announced to me that he wanted to take me on a second date, and I quickly agreed to go. He told me to, again, dress casual, because it wasn't that fancy of a date. I had to admit, I liked his style; I only owned one dress.

—

It was later that night and I sat in my room, contemplating what to wear for our date tonight. My eyes scanned over my closet, mentally matching clothes together. I finally match together my favorite sweater with black jeans and boots, standing from my bed and walking quietly to the bathroom.

I turn the shower faucet on all the way to hot, stripping out of my pajamas and combing through my tangled hair. I step into the shower, letting the hot water run over my cold body. I think of case scenarios, maybe how Harry might even kiss me. The thought alone made me blush, thinking of his smooth, pink lips pressed against mine.

When I was done, I played my music and applied light makeup; braiding my hair to the side. I danced around in my towel, singing into my hairbrush and going to my closet before doing my finale. I huff, taking my towel off and pulling my undergarments on. I pull out my high-rise black jeans and my tan sweater, putting them on and slipping on my brown boots. I look in my body mirror, smiling in approval.

"Who's that hottie?" I ask myself jokingly, laughing to my own stupidity.

I waited around for nearly thirty minutes, wandering aimlessly around my small house before I finally heard the doorbell ring. To say I ran like a cheetah was an understatement, that's how fast I got there.

He stood in the doorway, dressed in a torn t-shirt and black, knee-ripped jeans. His style was ruggish and sexy, matching his personality perfectly. While he did look like a complete and total rock star, he again held a pure white rose in his hand.

"For you, my lady." he says, bowing with a huge smile on his face. I curtsy in return, giggling as I accept the rose.

"Thank you, sir." I wink, stepping aside. "Come on in while I add it to the vase." I allow him to step inside, wandering to the kitchen and putting the fresh rose in with the colorful one.

"What a nice home." he comments, eyes wandering around the house to find baby pictures and pictures of my cat.

"You have your own baby pictures?" he asks, laughing softly. "You were adorable."

"Thank you, and thank you." I say, setting the vase on the TV stand. "The roses make it even nicer. And yes, I do. I was adorable."

"Mm. I think you're right." he laughs, extending his hand for me to take. I gracefully accept it, gasping as he pulls me to him and rests his large hand on my lower back and wraps his other around my small hand.

"May I have this dance?" he whispers, looking at me sweetly and popping a smile.

"There's no music." I point out, furrowing my eyebrows.

"Well then we should play some, shouldn't we?" he retorts, smirking before hitting shuffle on his phone.

Before I could even argue, he was leading me around the floor to Taylor Swift's You Are In Love. I put my hand on his shoulder, holding his hand tightly and following his lead. He carefully dips me, keeping his grip firm on my back to prevent any falling. I close my eyes, coming back up; lip held between my teeth. Everything was silent, the music being blurred from my attention. Everything was on him.