𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐀! | harry styles

𝐗𝐈𝐕

HE kisses me soft, our mouths moving perfectly together in the best first kiss ever before he stops and rests his forehead against mine.

We sit like that for a moment, breathing each other in.

"That was… unexpected," I say, practically a whisper on the sand in the ocean air between us.

I feel a shudder go through him as his hand comes up to wrap around my neck. "Anna, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

Our legs are touching, and when I shift, he puts his hand on my knee. With a soft pull, he lays them across his lap and I feel like I'm about to die. "How long is a long time?" I ask while his fingers rub the soft skin at the back of my knee.

"Longer than I should've."

The thought that Harry wanted to kiss me for a few days now is something I can't quite comprehend, so I decide to not obsess about the details and just enjoy the fact that he is. "For the record, I've wanted you to do that for a long time, too."

We sit for another hour, talking and laughing, disagreeing about the songs that come on, and I'm thrilled when he doesn't let my hand go the whole time. I'm dying to ask him details about exactly when his thoughts might've changed about me, but I don't want to ruin the moment by being that needy girl.

He twines his fingers in mine and my thumb plays over the freckle I've studied intently across my outdoor dining table. "Guess I should get you home. It's almost curfew."

"Holy moly, Harry. Tell me you're not going to be worse regarding my welfare where Bruce is concerned just because you kissed me."

"Well, now I really have a reason to want him to like me."

"He already does."

"Yeah, but now I'm spending time with his biological daughter."

"Is that what you're doing? Spending time with me?"

He's looking at my mouth, that lazy smile playing across his own, and his hand trails down my calf gently. My stomach flips at the fact that he might be feeling that way towards me. "I would like to spend lots more time with you," he murmurs, then looks right at me, causing my insides to melt from the heat in his eyes. "That is, if you want to."

Well, doy. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" he asks as his eyebrows raise.

"Well, yeah. I mean you force gross food on me and have a fondness for bad movies. What girl would want more of that?"

He laughs as his fist playfully nudges my chin. "Hopefully you, Annabelle."

I think I'm in love.

* * *

Two days later I walk past Rosalie's partially open door and peek my head in. The bed is made up neatly and I know in my gut she didn't come home last night. I haven't seen her in almost three days now, and even though I'm still boiling under my skin, it doesn't mean I'm not worried about her.

Lori has the small black and white TV in the kitchen tuned to Ryan's Hope. I swear, this is the same conversation Frank and Mary Ryan were having the last time I walked in about a month ago.

She looks like she's in the middle of baking, so I slide onto one of the orange, vinyl stools at the counter to watch.

"Oh, hi sweetie. What's up?" she asks as she pulls the wooden spoon from the holder next to the stove.

"Just waiting to find out if Frank will finally shut his trap." I nod to the TV.

"Oh, she'll get the final say. She's very headstrong." She smiles and looks at me, waiting because me sitting here with her is all sorts of weird. "Did you want something to eat?"