*༶тαѕтєѕ ѕσ ѕωєєт | h.ѕ ༶*

Harry's Apartment ♡

♡

I was standing at his door nervously picking at my light blue nail polish that was already almost gone due to the butterflies setting up tent in my stomach while at work earlier today at the thought of coming here.

Harry's apartment.

I don't know why i'm having a mental break down, it's not like he hasn't been to my apartment before, I mean he's slept there in my bed with his fingers playing with the ends of my dark curls, while his lips leave sweet marks on my skin.

Okay, this is no big deal Flora, just knock on the damn door!

"Flora James! I thought I heard foot steps, come inside!" Harry opens the door, a grin on his pretty lips, and my hand falls from it's fist that was just about to knock.

"Hi." My arms cross around my stomach, nervously stepping inside the lofty space. It's just like how he described, but not in a bad way. It's dark, yes but it is cozy. The ceilings are high with windows, letting the natural light from the sun shine in during the day, but right now the only light in the apartment is the little lamp on the wooden desk, the moon, and the twinkle in Harry's emerald eyes.

"It's a bit sad huh?" Harry closes the door, sitting on the edge of the couch as I can't help but explore the space Harry spends his time. There are books everywhere, coffee tables, shelves, the dining table, on the shaggy carpet, and the journal I saw only once at the coffee shop in his hands sits on the love seat beside an open window.

"So this is where you sit and write?" I ignore his comment, not bothering to look up as I speak to him, my eyes are too drawn to his journal, reading off the messy words written in black ink that take residence on the worn spine.

One and Only.

"Sometimes. I used to write in that seat a lot, but it's too dark, rather depressing, and then one day I stumbled across the spot, where I took you, and that's where I like to write now." Harry speaks slow, and I can almost detect the sides of his lips curling as he watches me tread all over his apartment.

I don't know why I feel so comfortable here, It's like the way you pick up a book with a really good cover, and you instantly know you're going to fall in love with that book, and all of a sudden you have three of them on your bookshelf because you just love the artwork on that cover so much.

"You know I write a little too. Well it's not like writing 'writing', it's just in my diary before bed I write about my day. Pretty boring stuff." I let out, my eyes widening at the smirk playing on Harry's lips as I tell him about my stupid diary. "I don't know why i'm telling you all of this, I'm sorry."

"No I like hearing you talk. Tell me Flora James have you written about me in this diary of yours?"  He gets up from his spot on the couch, making his way to where I stand scanning the books on his wooden bookcase, then removing the curls from my neck to replace them with his soft lips.

"I ca- can't tell y- you that. It's between the pages of my diary and me." I stumble over my words as he breathes in my ear.

"Then tell me something Flora James, Why do you have to be so damn beautiful?" Harry whispers his breathing heavy, as he spins me by my hips to face him, pushing my back against the shelves that hold hundreds of words, and crashing his lips to mine.

When his lips kiss me like that I can almost believe the words that leave his mouth.

♡