Silk || hs

Meet Me in the Hallway

I jump, startled by Harry's sudden appearance, "Shit, Harry. You scared me."

"Sorry," Harry says quietly, approaching me in the dimly lit hallway. I can't help but admire the way his suit hugs his waist as he walks towards me. This fucker is slim-thick, and the mere sight of him constantly makes me want to jump him immediately. Literally, how can a simple black suit like that look so good on someone? It simply defies the laws of physics or some other science shit, I just don't understand.

I am distracted from my inner musings about Harry's flawless ass when his face finally comes into view, and I see that he isn't smiling at me like he normally does. He looks to be deep in thought with brows furrowed and his lips pressed together in a thin line.

Hold the fuck up. Did he overhear that conversation?

"Are you okay?" I ask him, placing my hand on his arm as he stands blankly in front of me. Harry doesn't react to my touch at all, nor does he look to be trying to hide whatever emotions may be going through his mind. After several moments of silence, I begin to assume that my fear is correct. I think Harry did hear what his mom was saying to me, which means that Harry and I might really be about to have that conversation.

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but I cut him off, "How much did you hear?"

If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen. We might as well not waste each other's time for once.

A small smile cracks the serious expression on Harry's face and he lets out a shaky laugh, "Most of it, I think."

With his confession, I freeze in place and immediately begin to feel my cheeks heat up more than they ever have before. Of course he heard everything. What kind of narrative would this be without an occurrence of inconvenient eavesdropping?

"Hey," Harry smiles reassuringly, momentarily easing my heightened stress levels. "Don't be embarrassed. I, uh, I've actually wanted to talk to you about it for a while. I just didn't know how to bring it up."

To my surprise and relief, when I look into Harry's eyes, I can see that he appears to be just as nervous as I am. His cheeks are flushed and his glittering green eyes can't seem to focus on one thing for more than three seconds. The soft smile on his perfect lips isn't like the one he normally wears; this one is cautious and gives him this look of hopefulness that puts my frantic mind at ease.

While my heart is racing and all I want to hear is what Harry is thinking about right now, I know that this is not the time nor place to have this conversation. We are supposed to be here for Harry's stepdad, and I would hate for him to miss out on the experience because of me. Thus, though it slay me, I must put this conversation off for another time, and knowing Harry, that will mean tonight. I've come to realize that if we actually make plans to do something, officially or unofficially, Harry is excellent at following through with it. Therefore, I have no doubt in my mind that this conversation will happen today even if it's not right now.

Though I don't want to say it, I speak up quietly, "We don't have to talk about this now if you don't want to, Harry. It's your stepdad's birthday party, so–"

"No," Harry says firmly, and I internally praise him for it. "We need to talk about this because it's been driving me crazy for weeks now."

This is really happening right now.

"Let's talk upstairs." Harry takes my hand in his and laces his fingers through mine, the familiar warm roughness of his hand reassuring me that this discussion will not end badly. If Harry is still holding my hand like this and he's nervous, but still happy-looking, then I think I have a pretty good idea of where this is going. Of course, I'm still freaking out, but I think it's more of an excited freak-out than a "I'm dreading this" kind of thing.