Aquarelle [h.s]

forty-five

I woke up to the vibration of my phone on the nightstand next to me and I blinked a few times in the bright light coming from the window, trying to understand what time it was.

The last thing I remembered was falling asleep with Harry's limbs intertwined with mine, his heart beating against my chest and his even breathing next to my ear. Now I was lying by his side on the bed, my stomach pressed against the mattress, his arm on my back.

I slid out of his tender hold and I took my phone, that was still buzzing, and sat on the bed, furrowing my eyebrows when I discovered that I had a couple of missed calls from my mother, despite it being only nine in the morning.

I turned around to look at Harry, that was still asleep, lying on the bed on his side, facing me. He was still naked, the black satin bedsheets pooling around his waist, contrasting the milky tone of his skin, his cherry red lips parted, soft and sinful all at once. I observed him as his golden eyelashes fluttered on his cheekbones, a little twitch making his mouth move before his entire being returned to the previous quietude, smiling a bit at the way he'd snuggled his face into the pillow.

I sighed, standing up even though all I wanted was to slide closer to him and wrap my arms around him and play with his hair as he slept, silently walking out of the room and leaving the door ajar, not wanting to wake him up.

I reached the living room, taking the dress I'd worn the day before from the back of Harry's couch and putting it on. I called my mum back as I walked into the kitchen, opening Harry's cupboards to look for something to make breakfast with.

"Oh Sierra! I was about to call again" my mother said as soon as she picked up, making me raise an eyebrow. It was a bit too early in the morning for her to be calling so many times without a specific reason, especially on a Sunday.

I stood on my tiptoes to take two cups out of the cupboard, putting one on the table and the other on the counter before opening the fridge and getting a carton of milk. "Hi mum" I greeted her as I did, holding my phone between my ear and shoulder as I poured some in a milk pan and put it over the stove to warm up.

"So how's it going?" She asked and I frowned, immediately finding the question rather suspicious. It wasn't like her to call me just to ask how I was doing.

"Uh, it's going alright? How are you?" I replied, leaning back against the counter and staring at the floor as I waited for her to answer.

"I'm good" she said, making a little pause before speaking again. "How's Harry?"

I pressed my lips together at the question, finding her sudden interest a bit weird. "He's alright? I think?" I said in reply, taking the carton of milk and putting it back in the fridge.

"I'm happy to hear that" she said approvingly, "I said it before and I'll repeat it now, that boy really does have me worried sometimes."

"He's okay" I reassured her, even though I had no idea of where that whole conversation was coming from. Had she woken up and thought about him or something? I had no idea. I took a glass and filled it with water, rinsing my mouth a bit to get rid of the uncomfortable taste on my tongue before sipping the rest. I should've probably left a toothbrush at Harry's house, considering it wasn't exactly unlikely for me to spend the night.

"Good, so you'll be happy to know I told your dad about you two, and he was ecstatic!" She exclaimed, and I almost choked on the water.

"You did what?" I asked her, my voice coming out a bit broken, once I stopped coughing. I still hadn't thought about telling my parents about us.

"He always liked him, after all" she stated, ignoring my shocked reply. "Why don't you two come have lunch with us one of these days? It would be nice. We'd get to talk and all."