Aquarelle [h.s]

seven

The next week went by way more plainly than I would've expected it to go. Harry never said a single word to me that wasn't work related, and even though I found it a bit weird, I decided to go along with it.

In that moment we were in the studio, and Harry was staring at me as I was staring back at him. His gaze was strong on me, as if he was trying to see right through me and inevitably succeeding, making me feel way more uneasy than ever before.

I didn't know why I was so bothered, especially considering that I'd been the one to tell him to look in my direction and there weren't many other things to focus his attention on while I drew him, but I simply couldn't help it. There was something that felt so wrong about him sitting there, maybe because I felt like he would've stood up and crossed all the lines he wasn't supposed to cross in the matter of a second just like he'd done all those years before, and it made me want to flee his stare and the room.

He was shamelessly looking at me, observing my every action, silently daring me to do something I wasn't aware I was supposed to do whenever I looked up at him. I wasn't sure whether I want to leave or slap him, and I didn't even know why I was considering slapping him, since he hadn't even done anything. His behaviour had been nothing less than immaculate ever since he'd walked into my studio on Wednesday, and maybe that was the problem.

He'd been quiet, receptive of my orders, without ever complaining, no even in that moment, when he'd been holding that same position for over an hour. He wasn't asking for a pause or asking me when I would've been done, he was just sitting there, perfectly silent, perfectly still, his back not slumping and his muscles immobile in the same position I'd asked him to get in more than seventy minutes before. He was the perfect model, and I didn't know what to think of that.

I couldn't help but feel as if something was about to come. Why would he act that well, if he wasn't planning anything? When would he have made his move? I didn't trust him, in the slightest. I knew he would've done something at some point.

After some more minutes his stare became too much for me to hold and I quickly stood up, going to my desk and flicking through some paper sheets, my back to him, pretending to do something while I wondered if I should've finally given up and told him we were done even though we had one more hour to go or sucked it up and continued.

I didn't hear him move, but all of sudden two hands were on my waist, their warmth on my skin through the thin fabric of the white button up I was wearing.

I turned around quickly in surprise, my heart beating wildly in my chest, his faint smell of vanilla hitting me in the second I was facing him. A million alarms went off in my head at his sudden closeness, and really, it shouldn't have surprised me that much because I knew he would've done something like that. Whether I told others or not, I knew it in the second I asked him to be my model, because that was just what Harry did. He took whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, and five years had gone by but they clearly hadn't changed his behaviour.

One of his hands left my waist and reached up, slowly brushing my hair behind my ear as his green eyes burned right through mine, his action making my breath falter in my throat in shock. I should've pushed him away, I knew that, but I was way too surprised by his actions to do that, and I wondered if my body would've responded to my mind at all.

He leant forward, his warm breath tickling my skin for the slightest second. "I know you miss me" he whispered into my ear, and I wasn't sure if I would've managed to push him away before my heart exploded in my chest. "I bet you still think of the way my mouth felt on you, I bet you think of me when that boyfriend of yours fucks you in the night."

My mouth fell open, complete shock overcoming me at his words. There was no way he'd said something like that. It was way too much, even for him, and I really was mad at myself for putting myself in a similar situation, because I'd known it would've happened but I'd asked him to be my model anyway. I'd been stupid and naïve to think a detached attitude would've been enough to keep him away, because I knew by then that he always moved when my guard was down.