Harrison Avenue // H.S.

Art School Film

Hiya!

So this is going back in time again - think first summer of Harry and Elle in New York (so they'd be 19/20). You may recognize some of this scene because I did reference it in another chapter long ago. 

Also. This is easily the most explicit I've gotten with Harry and Elle's love life so be prepared for that. (I'm sure that's good news for most of you!) But yeah... it gets pretty dirty. 

Okay. Enjoy!

-

[Ellison]

To describe this first summer in New York as hot is an understatement, and yet I can't really find the right words to describe the sticky, sometimes even wet feeling air that is nearly impossible to escape. It feels worse than any summer I spent in South Dakota because I swear the tall buildings in the city trap in the heat, make it feel stagnant. It is certainly unbearable in my own apartment, where in the winters I had to hide under piles of blankets to stay warm, only to now walk around in my underwear and nothing else, and still manage to sweat.

Harry and I have even started a habit of spending most evenings at a bar not far from my building simply because they have air conditioning, sipping on well drinks and chatting with others who are doing the same. Technically, we're both not legally allowed in the bar or meant to be drinking – Harry closer to that threshold than me – but they've gotten so used to the two of us being there that they don't seem to even question that we're not of age.

Sometimes we'll spend the evening at Harry and Ted's apartment instead. Thanks to Ted's clear connections to some element of wealth in the city, they actually have air conditioning in their apartment. It would be simple to think that this would mean that Harry and I would just spend more time there, more nights sleeping in his bed versus mine, but that's severely underestimating the amount of regulation that comes with being around Ted. Sweating in the heat just often seems like the better option.

It isn't one of those evenings spent at the bar though, where Harry and I get a little tipsy from cheap drinks, then stumble back to my apartment, and try to coax Perkins into my place so he can sleep on the bed next to us. It isn't one of the nights where we stay at Harry's either, sneaking me into the kitchen to find snacks.

Instead, it's an evening where I'm stood in front of my kitchen sink, in my underwear, with my hair pulled up but pieces still falling down. My forehead a little sweaty, despite there being a window open where the slightest breeze is blowing in. And, I'm washing dishes as I wait for Harry to arrive.

When he bursts through my front door, he looks a little out of breath. It's as though he just ran up the four flights of stairs that are necessary to reach me. Then I notice the look of determination in his eyes and I drop the ceramic mug that is still filled with soap into the sink.

Next thing I know, his body is pressed against mine. His hands move to the sides of my cheeks, pushing me against the small counter of my minuscule kitchen. His face is just above me, his eyes mixing a look of lust into whatever desperation he feels right now. He kisses me hungrily and it almost catches me off guard. Then I fall into it with ease, moving my hands from gripping the counter behind me, to wrapping around his waist instead so he has nowhere else to go.

Harry, as always, is attentive and eagerly sets the pace. He quickly decides that while the kiss is full of desperation he also has every intention of making it last – kissing me slow but not soft.

I try to let my mind focus on him and only him. It is usually not a difficult thing to do. But then I feel it, the zoom in, the quiet but extremely present figure that is also in the room. My eyes wander for this reason and Harry can feel it, trying his best to pull me back in, but it's already over.