Chapter 10

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"Can I get a number four, two orders of crab rangoons, a number 10, two number threes, and spring rolls. Those are crunchy, right?" Mara bites on her nails, half worn-down pink nail polish chipping off and scraps landing on her lips.

The memory of her date with Harry has flooded her mind since the moment it ended. The taste of his lips against hers, sweet from his personality and salty from his hardworking nature. The feeling of his calloused fingers gently caressing her fair jawline. She found herself touching her skin, reliving each sensation, laying in bed wishing she could go back in time and experience it all over again.

She stretches her legs in front of her in bed and fails in her attempt to touch her toes. Flexibility has never been one of her strong suits but it always felt good to try. Falling flat in starfish formation, she stares up at her speckled, textured ceiling for 45 minutes but it flies by in what feels like only five minutes.

The buzzer buzzes.

"Food. FOOD. FEED ME!" Her stomach yells, the loud grumbles echo throughout the empty walls. Without answering the call of the person downstairs, she runs out the front door, presuming it's the delivery finally arriving. Giant black combat boots slam down on the frail wood of the floor as she makes her way to the delicacies she's been awaiting.

Tousled, dark brown hair sits in front of her. Harry crouches at the bottom of the staircase in the building's lobby, fixing a myriad of black and white tiles. The design is monochromatic but layered and textured in the most beautifully simple way possible. Mara stands for a second to observe. Delicate fingers grab tools of no-descriptor to her.

Mara fluffs up her curls to impress the object of her affection. "Harry? Didn't know you'd be down here." She had a feeling he would be there. In fact, she prayed he would be there. This is her shot to make an entrance and casually invite him for a night in.

"Is this for you?" Harry adjusts his beanie, tucking his frayed hairs behind his ears and pointing to the guarded front door.

"Yes, I think so." Mara finishes her quick journey to the bottom of the stairs and opens the entryway door to the building. She opens it to find a timid delivery man with arms full of white, opaque bags, lined with spilled Chinese-food gravy. She quickly tips him and slams the door, turning to look at Harry.

Individual pieces of tile combine to make a beautiful design on the foyer of The Mayer's Nest. As she watches Harry lay each individual piece, she feels as though she's entering the building for the first time. What beautiful works of art he created in the solemnity of his and hers soul.

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