Hidden [h.s]

FIFTY-THREE (EDITED)

The next few days fall into a routine.

I stay at Harry's for three nights, until he says he is able to get my key from Aaron today, Friday. I've told him again and again that I can go get it from him myself, but he always gives me a look I can't quite decipher and says very sternly, "no."

Harry has also been driving me to and from work as well, and again, I've told him I can drive myself, but he always smirks and says, "Rosie, don't you care for the environment?"

And of course, Harry always has the last word.

Every night, we come home at about five, Harry constantly complaining about rush hour traffic and me rolling my eyes at him. He cooks dinner, something different every night, and whenever I offer to help him cook, he blinks at me and says, "Rosalie, get the fuck out of my kitchen."

So I do, smirking at his vulgar language.

We always have animated conversations over dinner-most of the time, we argue. It's not harsh arguing, though-more like civilized arguing. It always ends with one of us laughing too hard, and more often than not, that one is me.

We watch the Office every single night after we eat-comparing notes on how many times we've seen the episode playing. In these past few days, I don't think I've ever seen Harry smile so often and so big.

And at the end of each night, Harry bids me goodnight as I settle into my couch-bed, but I always stay awake for about an hour before sneaking into Harry's room and sliding into bed next to him. He never asks me what I'm doing, or if I had another bad dream, he just wraps his arms around me and sighs sleepily, tangling his legs with mine.

We haven't kissed since the first night, though, but I always catch him staring at my lips when I talk.

It almost seems to me like these past days have been a vacation.

I sit on Harry's couch now, reading a magazine as I wait for him to get off a phone call with Louis. He told me he's going to get my key tonight, but it's past six and I'm considering just going on my own.

He finally emerges from his room, running a hand through his hair.

"Alright, I'm going to go," He says, pocketing his phone and grabbing his keys off the coffee table.

"Explain to me why I can't come with you, again?"

"Because, Aaron is a son of a bitch and I don't want you near him," Harry says easily. He wears a blue plaid shirt and his usual jeans, his cheeks flushed in a healthy pink.

"Harry, what if he hurts you?"

Harry raises an eyebrow. "I'll hurt him back, twice as hard." He smirks.

I sigh. "Can't I just come?"

"No. Now, go back to reading that magazine that showed up in my mailbox again."

I roll my eyes. "Let it go, will you!"

He smirks again before opening the door, turning back to me. "I'll be back in an hour, don't do anything stupid."

"I should say the same to you."

"Me, stupid?" He scoffs.

"Just go," I say, smirking as I wave him off.

He smiles again before shutting the door behind him.

I consider following Harry just to make sure he'll be okay, but I have a feeling he would have my head if I pursued him again.

Then, I consider following him just to piss him off, but decide against it.

My phone suddenly lights up on the coffee table, and I bring it to my ear.