Aurora | H.S.

16. night changes

🌺

The soft harmonies of a violin and harp travel through the art gallery; a large open space with a hallway leading to a smaller room with white walls and more art hanging up on the walls. When I was younger, my parents took me to the city to go to an art museum. I remember my mom whispering to my dad—as if I couldn't hear—that this was the quietest I've ever been. I was intrigued by the art, listening to the people around us talking about their interpretations.

At the time, I was too young and lacking the simplest experience to know what it all meant. I didn't understand what certain colors meant, I didn't understand the importance of technique. Even now, I'd be lying if I said I understood. I truly believe that art is as complex as you make it, but I know when something is a true masterpiece—like the man standing beside me.

Harry wears a black suit, a white buttoned up shirt and a black tie. I've never seen him look so fancy, but I can tell it's not new for him. His parents, he mentioned, made him dress nice for all holidays and birthday get-togethers. On the car ride here, he told me that in high school he was forced to wear a uniform. I tried to picture it, but I failed.

Before leaving Cecilia to babysit at my place, she quietly asked me if I thought that Harry was the one. I stared at her for a few moments, trying to calculate what she really meant. It's been three weeks since we met and while I feel like my heart has found residence in his, I can't help but wonder if it's temporary—if eventually I'll be evicted.

This wasn't just a random night out, though. Peter had asked if we could make it a double-date, something I haven't done since high school. Actually, I'm not even sure if Austin and I ever went on a proper double-date. His idea of a date, in general, was below average. Peter also mentioned that this would be the perfect opportunity to get to know Harry. I was skeptical at first, standing in the flower shop, water the flowers while Harry hovered a few feet away. He thought it wasn't a bad idea, and I couldn't bare to refute.

"You look beautiful." A warm hand slides around my waist to the small of my back, hot breath fanning over my ear as his words linger and tingle my insides. I giggle softly, playfully rolling my eyes as he hums, "have I mentioned that tonight?"

"Yes, at least five hundred times," I laugh.

"Still not enough," he sniggers.

While Harry looks comfortable and confident, I can't help but feel a little out of place. I'm used to sundresses, jeans, t-shirts and converse—not fancy dresses like the one I'm wearing. Hell, this dress isn't even mine. Cecilia insisted that I wear it, though she doesn't have the curves I have and I was nervous that it wouldn't fit. The silky, midnight blue fabric fits tug on my hips and bum, which Harry's hands seemed to gravitate to instantly the moment he saw me. The low cut shows off some cleavage—more than I'm used to—and the three-quarter sleeves fit snug on my arms while a slit shows off some of my leg. On my feet are a pair of black suede heels—also thanks to Cecilia.

"Champagne?" Peter offers me a glass, his new beau standing at his side. Her dark brown hair is pulled into a low bun, her small eyes coated in a cranberry eye shadow that looks perfect against her gray eyes. I accept the champagne, feeling Harry pull me a little closer as Peter goes on talking to Katie about his favorite artwork here.

I take a sip of the bubbly drink, feeling it fizzle on my tongue and slightly burn down my throat. "You don't like it?" Harry asks.

"I like it, but I normally stick to wine," I reply with a small laugh. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and smiles faintly. Today, there's something deep in his eyes that I haven't decoded yet—eagerness, hunger, excitement or burning lust. Katie laughs loudly, breaking my gaze from Harry's. I look over at her, noticing her glass of champagne is already empty. We've been here for less than two hours and she's downed at least three of them.