You and I

Seven

Bella's POV

The next morning, Bella woke up alone. No Harry this morning. She said to herself as she raised her head from the soft pillows. The sheets were wrapped around her body in a tight cacoon. The bed was so warm, too warm that she didn't want to get out of it. Bella managed to unlock her arms out from the sheets to push her messy bed hair out of her eyes. She groaned as she put the weight of her body onto her forearms. Memories of the day before made a smile ghost over her lips. I'm not even awake for a minute and I'm already smiling.

Going out with Harry had been wonderful. She knew the neighbourhood and learnt how good the food and drink were at the café. Her conversation with the pop star had flowed as easily as a river. She still remembered the tingling feeling of his fingers weaving with hers. It was like the perfect jigsaw puzzle. Have I found the piece of my life that is missing? Bella sure hoped so.

Last night, Bella discovered Harry secretly loved chick flicks. For some reason, she didn't find that surprising. She couldn't see him watching horror films or explosive films. They had talked about Love Actually extensively in the café but he also liked The Notebook and Titanic. No wonder he's such a romantic... Bella thought. So they had watched both films last night. At the beginning of The Notebook, Bella and Harry were seated next to each other, their arms barely touching. But by the end of the film, Bella was in Harry's arms, her head on his chest. She had heard the beat of his heart, the steady thump of it. It was a miracle she hadn't fallen asleep in his arms. She would have been happy to do that, she had been so content.

The one thing she did remember was the feeling of his lips on her forehead, giving her a goodnight kiss. Each time she felt his lips on her skin, the longing to feel them pressed against her own lips grew. It was ridiculous how badly she wanted to kiss him. It was like her life depended on just that one kiss. But Bella didn't want to rush into anything. The only result that would come out of that would be bad.

As she looked at the empty walk-in wardrobe, she remembered that she and Harry had decided she'd be staying for a week. A week with Harry sounded great but she realised all of her clothes and shoes were still in her suitcase. The walk-in wardrobe looked odd without anything in it. She wanted to put her belongings in there but she had to ask Harry first. That's what I'll do now. Bella said to herself. She saw it was 9 o'clock so she knew there was a chance that Harry was awake.

She managed to get out of the nice warm bed and throw on her thin dressing gown, leaving it untied. Still dressed in her bed clothes, she padded across the carpeted floor of the bedroom and out of the door. Bella passed the staircase and went over to Harry's room. His door was open and she could see that his bed was a little bigger than hers. And he wasn't in it. Where is he? The answer to her question happened almost immediately. The young Englishman appeared, walking out of another door that obviously led to one of the bathrooms, because Bella could see the soft steam emanating from it.

"Look who's up! Morning, love." Harry smiled at her. Bella could barely find the energy to smile back. Her eyes were wide as they travelled over his body. His upper body was a sight to behold, beads of water on his shoulders and biceps. A white towel was wrapped around his waist. It horrified Bella that she was so close to see him completely naked. Why do I have to see him like this? Why do I end up being in uncomfortable situations with this guy? Bella didn't know why. But she wanted encounters like this to stop. His damp hair had turned a shade darker from the water and the curls were already forming at the ends of his locks. So many girls dreamed of seeing Harry like this. No doubt did he look so fucking hot. Gosh, the things I want to do to him... Bella whispered in her head, her gaze on his lean muscular physique. He was just right. So perfect.

"You OK, Bella?"

She blinked and tore her eyes away from his body, now looking at his face. He moved his fingers through his hair, a few strands sticking to his forehead and neck.