A Compelling Motive (h.s.)

twenty six

Harry carries my bag for me, the two of us in heavy winter coats and boots. The two of us walk into the cabin and he takes our bags somewhere I don't know. I'm under the assumption it's a bedroom.

When he gets back to the living room, he follows my lead as we take off the coats.

"I'm going to make a fire. You feel free to wander. It's pretty cool here," he grins, removing his boots. He stands tall and grabs my shoulders. I smile up at him.

"Thank you," I beam up at him, his eyes casting a soft gaze to mine.

"You are so beautiful," he grins, leaning to kiss my forehead. He moves to walk behind me and goes to gather wood.

I walk around, seeing what seems to be the epitome of a cute cabin. A small kitchen, a loft that contains a bedroom, the living room with a fireplace, and then a bathroom. It's comfortable and cozy; perfect for a getaway.

"Would you go and grab my lighter, darling?" he asks, and I nod. As he setting wood down in the fireplace, he starts to maneuver the pieces into a way to start a fire. I grab his lighter out of his coat pocket, but in doing so I drop his phone. I apologize to him and he just laughs it off. It starts to ring and he looks at me.

"Someone named JR?" I tell him, and his head nods.

"I'm going to take this real quick. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable," he smiles, taking his phone. He answers it out of earshot and I find myself not knowing what to do with myself. I walk around some more but stop when I hear him talking. I know it's not right to eavesdrop, but I can't help it.

"I don't want to have it leaked. Put more protection on the file," Harry almost grits, and I furrow my eyebrows.

"I don't care about the expenses Jay. I'm paying for whatever I need to keep it safe," he explains, and I catch a sight of his shadow. He's running his hand through his hair; he's stressed. I know just by the action.

"Jay, I'm damn near finished with it. I've written like hell the past few months because I had the inspiration for it. She was all I needed. It's finished," he says, and my stomach turns. Finished? Questions flood my mind and I start overthinking things, my heart twisting. Was I something less than what I thought?

No. With everything we've done, Harry has been genuine. I'm only nervous to know what's going on. This is more than the work at the university. He's a writer, but not just his research.

"Rhiannon," Harry says, and I look up. I've forgotten to walk away from where I'd been standing and I realize I'm still holding the doorframe, clearly looking like I'm eavesdropping.

"What's finished?" I ask, knowing I'm not supposed to know. But I do now. There's no use in hiding it.

"A book," he answers without hesitation and all I can do is nod. "I left the room because I didn't want you to hear me rat out his ass for not putting it in a secure file."

My lips form an 'o' and he grabs my hand, pulling me into him. "You overthink too much," he smiles, making me blush. He wraps his arms around me and pulls my head to his chest, allowing one of his hands to hold my head. His lips splay kisses on the top of my head and I close my eyes.

"I didn't mean to listen like that. You go off on your own sometimes. It makes me nervous," I tell him. I don't want there to be so many secrets between us.

"It's work stuff. It's not fascinating and I don't want you to hear me drone on and on about publishing rights and all the things that go along with it," he replies, my head nodding.

When we're done in our embrace, we go to the living room and he finishes the fire. I've noticed since being with Harry I've barely smoked. It's a bad habit I've tried to break for a while. He's told me that he only smokes with me so I took that as a sign to stop. It's an occasional cigarette whenever I feel like it now.

Harry and I sit on the couch and I offer to make tea, his smile displayed to me. I take it as an affirmative answer and I go to the kitchen. Once earl grey is made, I bring the mugs to the living room and Harry takes me back into his embrace.

"I might be able to get you a job at the publishing company I work with," he tells me, and I look up at him.

"What's the job?" I ask, his eyes casted towards the fire. But he looks at me when he answers.

"It's a communications assistant. I know you are far more advanced than an assistant, but I can pull some strings to get you in. Once you're in, the promotions in the business is extraordinary," he tells me, and I nod.

"I'd be interested in applying. I'll have to update my resume," I tell him, and he smiles.

"How long does a publication cycle usually last?" I inquire, curious to how the process works.

"Sure, so when writing a book, usually there's a timeframe needed in regard to a series. If you, let's say, want to publish a book free-lance, it wouldn't be too hard to get in. It's the publicity that make or breaks the book," he says, my head nodding. That I knew.

"Let's use your books as an example," he tells me, and I can't help but laugh when he does. He knows I'm obsessed with Holden Shepherd's books way too much.

"So like those, the author wrote the first to intentionally be set up for a second book. In those cases, the publishing company gives the author a deadline and the next book will go through the process of publication. The cycle takes almost a year," he explains and I nod.

"So that's why you were making sure the file was safe? So it wasn't published too early?" I ask, and he nods.

"Exactly," he smiles, kissing my forehead.

"What do you write?" I ask, and he takes a sip of tea. I do the same.

"It's a lot of various takes on philosophical elements. I enjoy deep thinking and the work I've published is used around the world. It's pretty insane to think that my work is so vocalized; I never thought people would receive it the way it is," he tells me, and I smile.

"That's awesome," I grin, and he smiles at me. My hands set my tea down and I kneel facing him, his arm wrapping around my waist.

"There is a, um, dinner I have with them. It's not for a while, but I'd like you to be my date," he says, and I smile. I bring my hand up to his hair, playing with a few of the longer curls. He seems to be growing his hair out.

"Absolutely," I whisper. "There is nowhere I'd rather be."

At my words, Harry sets his mug down and nearly tackles me down on the couch. I laugh when he nuzzles his head in the crook of my neck, intentionally tickling me with his hair. His lips start splaying kisses to my neck and I grab his cheeks.

"Harry," I whisper, his head tilting to look down at me. His nose rubs against mine and I don't think my smile would be able to get bigger.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, my eyes closing when I hear the words. I know what's happening between the two of us. We're becoming more and more involved and emotions are developing more than expected.

Upon meeting him, there was no doubt in my mind that there was no way I'd get anywhere with him. Then we met in the park, the rain, and it spiraled from there. We're independent people, suddenly becoming so dependent on each other.