.Perfect Fantasy. |H.S.|

Chapter 33. Good and Soft.

.Natalia.

I gasped as the frigid night air hit me, making it all seem like a funny joke now as if the sunny weather the day before never existed. It was freezing out. The wind blowing so coldly, it felt like it was rattling through my bones and numbing my face, I looked down at my wrecked hand and pitied the situation there because my fingers were hurting a lot.
Found myself puffing hot air a couple of times while I waited for Anne to find her keys—looking at her mini cooper with longing, all black and shiny and possibly warmer than the front steps of her home—pulling the coat tighter against me and my eyes got lost in the moment.

It came back quickly: My nightmare. Harry sitting patiently in the kitchen with me while I grabbed something to eat and then staying with me in bed while we both waited for me to get sleepy again. I refused to tell him about the dream, no matter how many times he asked. He did the kind offering of his bed and his company; but with his mom a couple of doors down I felt more comfortable staying on my own, even while being scared shitless that the dream was going to come back.

Just thinking about it was making me yawn—a long, cold, shaky yawn.
Maybe I'd slept better if I stopped being such a pussy and shared a bed.

"No one really knows this but we own this pub," Anne's voice cut through a very upbeat pop eighties song she obviously liked, both hands gripping the steering wheel; If she saw my tiredness she didn't mention squat, and I liked that she kept talking about how her life was on the daily basis, it made me feel involved somehow. I caught her lip syncing while driving through the eye-pleasing town, which I still wanted to experience in daylight. Maybe take some pictures or buying some souvenirs for my friends. "Keeps me busy."

"Sounds like fun, never been to a pub before," I told her, excited now to see it. "Don't know what to expect."

"It's not the place, it's the company that matters." She mentioned happily, parking behind a line of cars, and there just in the front of the black door and the red-bricked entrance showing a very homey beige building, was Harry's car.
He spent the day away from the house, with enough time for Anne to help me find something to wear and to actually get my hair brushed correctly. One functional hand was not enough for some tasks.

We walked together into what looked like a warm lobby, then a hallway filled with paintings, then a wide room, my new black boots squeaking on the wooden flooring. There was a huge fireplace in the back and an elegant dark bar with stools, the decoration precise and stylish. Lots of familiar faces greeted Anne, while I stood behind, no one really noticing me, and in the middle of the bar, Harry was talking excitedly, his hands gesturing wildly as he kept moving through his own space, pulling some tall glasses from below him like he worked there.

Holy shit.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, in absolute shock as I noticed, at the same time that butterflies fluttered inside me that I was looking at a much younger version of him, his hair clearly freshly cut, shorter on the sides and fluffier on the top, and he was sporting a clean-shaved face. The tip of his nose and cheeks had flushed pink probably from the heat of the place or the alcohol on his system, lips tinted from his wine glass, as he was kicking back a couple of sips while pouring more for the people in front of him.

He's so good-looking, I reasoned with myself.

"He is, isn't he?," Anne's voice came out of nowhere, and I freaking jumped in my spot. She was obviously trying very hard not to laugh, and then she patted my cheek and told me to have fun, before turning around to entertain her guests.

I didn't know if it was panic or stupidity, but I suddenly took a giant step backward, away from there, and ran back to the same hallway we entered, and then to a huge glass door that lead to the garden. I did not care for a single second that the weather was not in my favor and touching my burning and very ashamed face I knew I needed a fucking minute, letting my head be messed by a cute single curl and a pair of dimples.