asset [h.s.]

twenty // sirens

🎵fleurie - sirens

Alicia

All seems to be forgotten the next morning, because Harry doesn't mention the kiss and neither do I, both of us acting like it never even happened. Our acting is so good that I almost forget that it actually happened myself, but just glancing over at him is enough to bring it all back, making me remember his soft lips pressed to mine, his body holding my own against the wall, his warm hands cradling my face.

I'm not surprised he hasn't acknowledged it though because, despite how invested he seemed to be last night, I know he would never bring up a moment of his own weakness or vulnerability. And that's all it was to him. He gave into the temptation when he vowed he wouldn't, he got fed up of the tension even though we should both be used to it now, but now that he's sober and daylight is streaming back through the curtains to help him see things a little more clearly, he won't repeat his actions.

Things go back to normal in the morning, and from the inside looking in, you'd never be able to tell that something was just a little off. But we both know there is, no matter how hard we deny it. There's something there now, an undertone of something which is slightly different to the tension we've both become accustomed to. There's definitely something, I just don't know what it is.

Although I'm surprised that I have enough space in my head to think about anything else, I do, and my other thoughts are full of questions about why Harry had that picture of me in his bag, which I still haven't had the chance or built up enough courage to ask about. I've managed to piece parts of it together, like the fact that he must have known who I was prior to watching me in the coffee shop with my friends, although that is kind of obvious because I thought that at the time. I can't believe I tried to convince myself otherwise. What I should've done, is listened to my own subconscious and made a run for it while I had the chance and then maybe, I wouldn't be in this mess.

I shake my head to rid myself of the thought, realising it's a little selfish. Although at the start it's pretty clear that Harry's intentions were to hurt me until he got the information he wanted, once he was told that I must be protected, he's done a good job. He's shot down men who broke into the house, thrown me over his shoulder to get me to safety, and saved me from being choked to death. He may be an impulsive, frustrating asshole who probably wants to kill me half the time, but he hasn't, and I guess that means something.

Letting out a small sigh at all the confusion in my mind, I continue to sort through my small collection of clothes. I'm trying to find a suitable outfit to wear because the New York weather has been a lot colder than I suspected it to be and my clothes aren't the best match for it. I pick up another pair of jeans and set them to the side, placing a jumper along with it, deciding they'll have to be my outfit choice for today.

Just as I'm about to get changed, the bedroom door is suddenly thrown open to reveal Harry, the ends of his hair still wet from his shower and his body, once again, clad in all black. His eyes scan over me as I glare back at him, thankful that he walked in just before I had started to get changed.

"What do you want?" I ask him a little rudely, but I don't really care. He's barely spoken to me all day and now he thinks he can just waltz in here, my own personal space which I don't get a lot of, and probably demand me to do something? I don't think so.

"Are you planing to run away again?" Harry replies, ignoring my question and leaning against the doorframe, his eyes glancing at my clothes scattered all across the bed.