*༶тαѕтєѕ ѕσ ѕωєєт | h.ѕ ༶*

Endearing ♡

♡

"After what we just did Flora James, I could write a whole book solely about your lips." Harry nuzzles into my neck making my flushed cheeks heat before he finishes buttoning his satin shirt up halfway, leaving a little bit of his inked chest out to show off along with the small patches of hair over his heart. 

"You should get started then because I've got a book to read." I giggle searching for the paperback in the now wrinkled up blanket beneath Harry and I, finding it laying next to a single daisy. The petals a bright white and the inside a soft yellow, so delicate it almost reminds me of old love letter from world war two. I pick it from the grass and flip to the middle pages of the book, slipping the dainty flower in between the pages filled with hundreds of romantic words. It deserves to be used in someway special. We all do.

Harry's swollen lips curl as they watch me press the flower into the book, not looking away until I finally say something. "What are you smiling about Harry?"

"I find you incredibly endearing is all,"  he whispers close to my lips, leaving a soft peck to my lazy smile. Harry scoots back then, practically off of our little plaid blanket and opens his tattered journal. He pulls an ink pen from his back pocket, writing violently fast as he looks at me and then back to the yellowish unlined pages. Every time I think I'm going to start reading the paperback in my hand, I fail. I'm unable to draw my eyes away from Harry as he writes. The words he writes consume him, and it's intense and eloquent. The way his face seems to be going through a different emotion each time I look up at him. His eyebrows furrowed with his lips set in a frown one minute and His perfect nose crinkled and his eyes looking wild and lost in a dream of his own concoctions the next. I want to know every single word this boy writes. And I want to know how he even thinks when he clearly has so much going on in that pretty head of his. But most of all, I want to know if those words he is writing so effortlessly and passionate are really about me, and if they're are words I could hold onto for the rest of my life or are they something I would want to forget the second my eyes collided with the words on the pages.

They would probably still be the prettiest thing ever written.

Harry walks me home after he is finished writing. He says the things he wrote today are like nothing he has ever written before. I can't help but feel fuzzy when he says things like that, especially now that I've finally gotten to see him at work, caught in his own head and imagination. It's the most magical thing my eyes have ever gotten to see, watching Harry write. Needless to say, I got absolutely no reading done. But I don't mind I've already read The Notebook too many times to count.

"Today was fun," I mumble, unlocking my apartment door. Harry leans into my ear from behind me, twisting one of his long fingers around a dark strand of my hair. I don't think the butterflies in my tummy have left even for a second today.

I hope they never leave. I hope Harry never leaves.

"You don't understand what you do to me, Flora James." Harry breathes in my ear, sweetly. I turn around, my hand gripping the door hand behind me. His emerald gaze is on my blue one and his tongue runs over his supple pink lips, taunting me. "What do I do to you, Harry Edward Styles?" I question, attempting to be as seductive with my words as Harry. I probably am failing miserably. But Harry must disagree because his nose nudges mine as he collides his lips with mine. Our tongues flirt endlessly and I open the door to my apartment, walking backwards with Harry still attached to my mouth and his hands still moving hot against my skin. "Are we going again, Flora James?" Harry mumbles over my lips, smirking.

"Do you want to?" I ask in reply, hoping i'm not being to forward. He quirks his head, running his big hands across my blushing cheeks. "So damn bad." Harry admits. I giggle, biting my lip as I lead him to my bed. At first his arms move to my hips, ready to guide me to fall back, but I stop him and gently push him on my mattress. I turn on my fairy lights that twinkle over my headboard, stalling for as long as possible. And then I do something I never thought I would have to confidence to do. I remove any article of clothing that sits on my body, watching Harry's eyes darken as he admires my curves. For a second his eyes in this moment remind me of the way his eyes look when he writes, impassioned.

"Flora James," he starts as I move to stand in between his legs. I use my hands feeling his warm, soft skin breathe quickly under my gentle touch. My fingers unlatch the button on his painted on jeans and I pull them off his thighs and legs as he removes his shirt now. "Hmm," I whisper, adoring the ink across his chest. His cold rings awake the goosebumps on my body as they play with the thought of wrapping around my legs. The way Harry is looking at me, only sparking my body to crave him even more. "I love you." He bites his lip, his eyes gleaming at mine as he finally pulls me onto his bare lap.

And I love him.

♡