As far as she was concerned, there was nothing special about Cassidy Winters. She's simply a girl who drinks far too much coffee than she would like to admit and reads books to escape her life as an unwanted orphan. Then, when she appears in a world...
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Cassidy's POV:
"Okay, okay," I said, my previous laugh still bubbling in my words, "Hear me out, though! Coffee is not a drug! It's not!"
Harry's body shook next to me as his chest vibrated with laughter.
The April wind had subsided for a while leaving the sun and clouds to grace us with their presence.
We were lying under the tree, a place that Harry and I had visited quite a lot recently, and were gazing up at the leaves above.
Arguing about coffee, of course.
"Cassidy," Harry groaned, "Coffee has caffeine! And you can get caffeine high! So doesn't that technically mean it's an addictive substance also known as a drug?"
I rolled my eyes and turned over to lie on my stomach, my head tilting toward his as my elbows supported me. His emerald eyes moved from their gaze of the tree to me, a challenge written within them.
"Are you implying that I should quit drinking coffee, Potter?" I asked, a teasing tone in my words.
"Hmm, what exactly would you do if I was?" He smirked.
I shook my head at him, another laugh threatening to escape. "I doubt you'd want to see me without coffee in the mornings."
"As long as I get to see you," Harry replied easily making my face warm.
I reached for his unkempt hair and tousled a few strands, not bothering to try and fix it but feeling the need to run my hands through it anyway.
A smile stretched across his face causing one to form on mine as well. My jaw ached but it was a small pain that I welcomed.
My thumb grazed his hairline before moving gently to the scar on his forehead.
My smile faltered for a moment as I looked upon it. My eyes flickered down to Harry who was watching me intently.
My eyes move back to his forehead. The pad of my finger lightly traced his scar. A different feeling ran through my nerves as I did so. Fear and hope.
I moved my hand away from his scar and cupped his cheek. His hand moved to gently wrap around my wrist. Stay, his eyes said.
I smiled and moved my head forward to kiss his lips. When I pulled away, our faces were so close that I even attempted to start counting how many eyelashes he had.
