Inherent

“Your newest project? Do you ever take breaks?” I try to joke around as Harry leads me with an arm around my waist again, making our way from the small secluded area where we spent the last couple of hours relaxing with friends. We squeeze through the crowded main floor, and Harry keeps me flush against his side in a firm hold. Belatedly, I recall the first time I was here months ago and what he said I was—fresh meat. If anyone decides to take more than a glance at me now, they would receive an eyeful of Harry’s borderline possessive hold around me, nearly molded to his side.

He is doing this on purpose, but somehow I don’t mind in the slightest. The predatory looks I shockingly received that first night weren’t welcome at all at the time, and they especially aren’t now. In reality I feel safe wrapped up in Harry, taking reassurance in his sheer strength and confidence, so much so it nearly transfers over to myself. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I like to keep busy,” he replies, us both forced to shout now because the volume out here is much louder. More chaotic, too, but it isn’t quite so intimidating as it used to be with the comfort of Harry close by, and I know just as much as I trust him with my entire heart that he wouldn’t let anything happen to me on his watch. He stops in front of a pair of familiar, heavy dark wood French doors, red curtained and anything beyond them is totally invisible, just how I remember them, and I recall the room’s contents perfectly. Though it was all fairly innocent what took place that night is still as fresh as ever in my mind; when Harry last pulled me in here, I got the first real taste of exactly how much chemistry we have between us… and not even back then could I have ignored it. Just the thought alone of how he makes me feel causes me to become overheated.

“What is it?” I can’t help but to ask. Harry seems more interested in my non-existent patience than whatever he wants to show me, watching my expression closely with a smirk.

Clearly amused by my curiosity, he retrieves from his jeans pocket a ring occupied by about ten different keys and plucks one of them up with nimble fingers. After one more entertained glance at me—at which I only smile and raise my eyebrows in anticipation—he unlocks the door at a slow pace. As if to build up the anticipation. For what I don’t know, and that’s what makes it worse.

Only when I make a somewhat impatient hand gesture to hurry him along does he relent with a silent chuckle and open the heavy doors open with one solid push.

“After you,” he mouths, stepping to the side only slightly so I have to brush past him as I hesitantly enter the room. Because it is closed off from the rest of the club, the temperature in this little retreat is a slightly cooler. My eyes scan over the area once before I turn to Harry in confusion. He has his back to me, closing the door and turning the lock back into place, sealing us both inside. The privacy is both refreshing and a little nerve-wracking, seeing as I have memories our last encounter in here and the heated kiss he pulled me into earlier tonight still at the forefront of my thoughts.

“It looks the same,” I voice my confusion through slightly narrowed eyes when Harry turns around, unsure of what to really expect when it comes to this new project of his. For some reason I was expecting this place to be totally different. I’m glad it isn’t, though. Out of the entire club, this room is admittedly my favourite of all and the only small slice of total privacy as well. A lover of anything Victorian, it looks like it has been transported right out of the nineteenth century to present day. Also, the memory attached to it may or may not cause me to favour the space a little more.

“That’s the point, my lady,” Harry says mysteriously, joining me as I head off toward the balcony which I wanted to explore so much last time. My heels click against the dark hardwood floors and the smell of incense is faint, like someone might have burned some sandalwood not long ago. It seems my feet have a mind of their own as they carry me closer to the identical set of double doors to the ones we just came through, similar straight down to the curtains. The balcony is placed right above the grand entrance and in between the two large stone columns, and I just know it has a magnificent view of Lake Michigan. From here we are practically across the street from the huge lake, and while it’s dark outside I still want to take a look, anyway.

We step out onto the balcony after Harry unlocks this door, too, and I can’t help but to smile and shake my head at his constant precautions. It looks as if he doesn’t act this way just with me, after all. Security at his apartment is even tighter too, with his own private elevator and a pass code just to gain access.

The refreshing late June night air hits me along with the smell of the lake’s fresh water. Since we are so high up and close to the water it’s a little windy, but I enjoy the clean air from that of how the club smells inside on the main floor—a mixture of too much perfume and cologne used by some overconfident patrons, alcohol, and a little sweat.

As we look out into the night and over the bright lights of the city I have grown to appreciate as my father’s childhood home, I lean closer into Harry and lose the tension that held my spine straight with a telling ache, fully relaxing for the first time since the Louis started to act a little strange with me. Socializing and getting to know Harry’s friends is great but nothing compares to moments like these, of just being so comfortable and happy with simply being here, with Harry, together. He instinctively wraps both his arms around me in a secure embrace I have come to adore and crave, and my head finds its always comfortable place resting against his chest, close to the beat of his heart.

In the big picture, I am happy I made the leap and came tonight, as melodramatic as I make it all out to be. I forget momentarily about Harry’s new project and tilt my head upward to smile at him only to find he is staring down at me softly, instead of enjoying the view like I thought he would be. I blush under his attention, but he doesn’t pry his eyes away from mine even though he takes note of my slight embarrassment with a knowing smile.

“Thank you for coming tonight.” It seems he has also forgotten about whatever he brought me here to show me, too, and while I become mesmerized with his deep, raspy tone I figure it can wait.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I reply, playful though quiet because I don’t want to ruin this wonderful moment. From weeks ago I recall Harry mentioning how, despite my useless rambling about a baseball game he wasn’t as interested in, he loved to hear me talk. So I fill the easy, comfortable silence with sincere and truthful words. “I’m glad I came. I’m not usually too good with this sort of thing, but it’s nice for us to meet each other’s friends.”

Having held so much in all week I find it is nice to talk about my feelings, as inconsequential as these ones are, so wrapped up in Harry I have forgotten all my usual reservations. Tonight, I want to let him in.

“Hmm, that was good wasn’t it?” He searches my eyes for confirmation, pulling me closer and into the warmth his body always manages to radiate, my bare leg brushing against his clothed one. Not long ago I started to shiver from the cool wind caressing my exposed skin, and Harry appears to have noticed before even I did.

“Yes, it was.” I ignore the memory of Louis shutting me out. Or at least I think that might be what he did; it’s not as if I know him well or even at all. Though much more approachable at first—and not quite as forward—Louis is almost as big of a mystery to me as Harry is. From the start Harry’s intentions were clear, albeit the motive behind them a little obscure, right from the very first day when he asked me for my number. I knew for some odd reason he took a liking to me the instant we met, and I begrudgingly (at the time) to him. There was an instant connection between us.

Now I am not half as inclined to figure out Louis, though. I just want to know why the hell he seems not to like me.

Harry smiles at my easy agreement, content with the night and this small moment away from the crowd. For the most part I feel the same, except I don’t feel nearly as confident as I did before I managed to clue in to Louis’ neutral attitude toward me. I wasn’t aware one single, small conversation could make such an impression on a person, rather than someone’s actual presence, personality, and I still don’t see what I could have possibly said or did wrong. Tonight, however, I apparently managed just that. A new feat for me, I suppose, in the quickest amount of time someone decides to dislike me.

In truth, I would rather spend all night out here on the balcony instead of going back out to face more possible rejection, to simply enjoy this with Harry. He appears to be at peace, happier than I have seen him in a long time. Tranquil, almost, and he looks just as content as I feel from being near him. These past weeks he has been at ease on the surface, sure, but I’m not a total fool. Especially since the baseball game and the pepper spray, I have been more aware of all the little things he does than ever. Almost every night he would crawl into bed with tensed muscles and weary eyes. I always guessed his newfound stress must be work related, because when I carefully skirted around the subject with him a couple of times he told me, almost pointedly, that he was fine. And I, of all people, know not to push when someone withdraws. My mind finds some peace knowing he too has managed to relax tonight.

“Let’s get back inside, before you freeze,” he quietly orders, eyeing my still slightly shivering form before his warm hand finds mine and he leads me back through the balcony doors, into the much warmer room. Even when this night is supposed to be all about him, Harry seems so concerned with my wellbeing and comfort still. If he were wearing a jacket, I know he would have offered it to me so we could have stayed outside a little longer. His chivalry is another one of his many endearing qualities.

He should be out getting drunk off his ass and living up to his supposed reputation, but instead he is in here, quiet and relaxing with the weird book store girl. He will never cease to amaze me.

From in here, you would never guess this room is attached to a roaring night club. I can hardly even hear the intense bass beat from downstairs, and it doesn’t thump into the floor like it does out in the rest of the Solar.

“So—have you any idea?” Along with his mysterious question he gestures around the expansive space. My eyes follow his hand, looking for any sort of clue as to what he could be on to.

I shrug, still confused, while I ponder why he brought me back in here and doubly curious. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is, yes.” He nods, thoughtful while scrutinizing the objects surrounding us now as well. “But I want to change it.”

Oh—I feel a little sad at the idea, and a sudden fear crops up that Harry might have decided to make it open to the rest to the privileged public like the rest of the Solar. I sincerely hope he doesn’t… it may be irrational, but for some reason I view this unique little place as ours, and I don’t want it to change.

“Why? I think it’s perfect the way it is.” My soft protest doesn’t hold much force because this, in reality, is Harry’s club and decision. I am not about to tell him what to do or pretend to have any say in the matter.

“You like this room, don’t you?” He asks, maintaining his broad stance and crossed arms a few feet away from me, and waits for my nod in response to his inquisitive question. I watch with a nervous, warm flutter as his smirk returns and grows with each word he speaks, having easily figured it out without even having to ask. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened the last time we were in here, would it?”

The playful sparkle dancing in his eyes and his flirty, suggestive tone certainly don’t go unnoticed by me. Right now, although in my slight embarrassment it is hard to steadily look at anything past his shoulders, I take in every tiny detail of Harry—from his now windswept curls to the way just one of his dimples poke out with his lopsided, sly smile.

What he insinuates is true; the first time I really got a decent clue of how much he affects me was in here, the first time I ever felt such things for any person, let alone one as domineering and enigmatic as Harry. When I look back on the moment I don’t think of how it was cut short and ruined by the emergency phone call, I think of how mind-blowing that first taste of his enticing, foreign touch felt.

Before now I guessed it to be insignificant to Harry, but he surprises me once again with how quickly he was able to figure out my thoughts so quickly. Within mere seconds. While grateful for him to be so in step with my feelings, it is absolutely astonishing.

“Maybe, a little bit… I don’t know,” I say, hesitant to admit it aloud, and my coy answer causes Harry to chuckle throatily. In a movement I am all too aware of, he draws closer until I feel the heat his body produces close to my side, waiting a few aching seconds for anticipation to build within me before he runs just the tips of his fingers down my arm, as sensually as he did the night in question.

“Don’t worry, I am quite fond of that memory, too.”

An involuntary shiver runs through me at his husky, murmured assurance, goose bumps rising readily in his wake. The contrasting sensations of the room’s cool air and Harry’s hot touch are all too tempting. I fight to remain in my right mind and stay still, blinking past the thick haze he so easily impels over my senses. I hold my breath in anticipation, wondering what he is going to do next. “I want to make it into my office, since everyone seems so sure I need one. I was hoping maybe you would help me, and we’d do it together.”

“What am I these days, your private assistant?” I try to jest lightheartedly, but my voice shakes and Harry’s chuckle tells me he is aware of just how hard it is for me to speak, to pretend to have a normal conversation with him when he’s touching me in such a way.

Now that we are alone, however, I find I can relax a little more. Out with his friends and Vivian I had begun to warm up to everyone, but it’s no secret I am happiest with much smaller groups of people and not quite so much pressure on everyone’s opinion of me.

“You could be, if you so wished,” he suggests out of the blue, as if he just thought of the idea. But I know better—Harry doesn’t do anything without thinking all possibilities and risks through. Sliding his gaze upward, he turns his flirtatious smirk up a notch and winks at me. “Now that there isn’t a bad idea, now is it?”

“Uh—” I stammer and cut myself short. Working for and with Harry? On one hand I probably wouldn’t even have the chance to miss him like I do so much during the long weekdays now… on the other, I’m not entirely sure if we should mix business with pleasure more than we already have. “You—you’re joking, right?”

Frowning and a little offended now, too, Harry regards me neutrally, eyes tightening as he towers over my much more petite form. The sudden change in his mood is so abrupt it serves to give me a whole lot of pause. I really want to just stick my foot in my mouth permanently and have it over with; I should have come with another one of those warnings over my head about how I say the absolute worst things at the most inappropriate moments.

“I wouldn’t joke to you about something like this. Surely you know that,” he says, having lost his playful edge.

He’s right. I know. Harry is remarkably serious when it comes to business. Whenever we got into Lou’s design project it was like a switch, how quickly Harry could go from cheeky and light-hearted to thoughtful and focussed on whatever task was at hand.

“I’ve never had an assistant before.” His admission shocks me all over again, but after getting to know Harry over these past months it makes sense. He is a private person, and having an assistant nose around all his things in an effort to make life easier for him, well… I can’t see it going over well. The way he says it, however, with his devious little smile returning as he pushes past his business attitude, implies he really likes the thought of me being his assistant. “I think it would be a great experience. For the both of us.”

“I’m not sure, Harry…” I trail off, dumbfounded. Of all things, I never expected him to offer me a job. Where is this coming from, so out of the blue? Yet I can’t voice any of these questions, because none of them seem very important right now.

“You wouldn’t be doing errands for me all the time or any crap like that. Mostly I just need help running this place… think of us as partners, of sorts.” Knowing he’s got me right where he wants me, Harry returns to trailing his touch down my arm and then up from my waist, running over my dress so lightly I hardly feel it, yet it is all I am aware of.

There might very well be more of a hidden motive beneath his innocent offer, however. I’m not so naïve as to believe he is totally fine with me working at the book store. Or with Alex, more specifically. With what happened just last week… well, I too am starting to think maybe Harry has a point, that perhaps all of his past worrying is justified.

“The job is there if you want it. Whenever you want it.” Harry is great with creating double meanings to everything he says, and whether they’re imagined to my overthinking mind or not still remains a mystery.

As if to convince me further the tender spot just up from my wrist on my forearm twinges painfully, right where Alex’s fingertips lay imprinted in my skin in the form of unsightly bruises. Not once tonight have I thought about the marks there, underneath the layer of carefully applied makeup, but now they’re all I think of.

“That’s a tempting offer,” I admit, reaching up to take hold his hand. Previously he followed wherever his fingers travelled with a look of captivation, but my action draws his attention back to me. I steadily meet his eyes, chewing on my lip in thought. “But it isn’t a small decision.”

“It isn’t,” he confirms, switching his hand so it engulfs mine instead, and before I can reply he pulls me down onto one of the antique, lavish sofas, its red velvet cushions sinking underneath our weight. He speaks his next words into my neck softly as he leans over me, my back supported by the armrest. “It definitely isn’t.”

“And… and we’d be seeing a lot of each other.” Once again, it’s hard for me to think properly when his mouth is connected to any part of my body. My resolve softens further when he mouths feathered kisses in a trail of the base of my neck up to my jaw—maybe this is his game; he knows exactly what he does to me, after all.

“Which isn’t a bad thing, is it?” He questions, already knowing the answer.

“No.” I stifle a gasp when he grabs me by the waist and pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him in one fluid, easy movement. But he doesn’t stop there; his inexplicably hot hands travel from the small of my back to the backs of my thighs, grasping each of them firmly as he pushes me farther up on his lap so our torsos touch as we both breathe heavy and slow with desire. When he is satisfied with our new position, which I notice is so close our hips also connect, he languidly removes his possessive grip on my thighs and migrates upward, lingering on every one of my curves before his hooded eyes trail slowly up my body until his darkened gaze meets mine in a heated, desire-filled link.

“And don’t forget, it would provide more opportunities for us to do this.” Harry says no more before he tugs me closer until I am all but crushed against every firm part of his body. He sighs in satisfaction, eyes closed while our mouths nearly touch, like he’s been waiting all night just to do this. I find both the sound and the thought sexy as hell. His scent hits me head on yet again, crashing my senses totally with his spice-filled aroma right as he finally molds his lips against mine in an embrace that starts out soft.

Meanwhile, at my thigh he pushes my dress up farther with a skillful flick of his fingers, and not a second later he ventures underneath the smooth fabric to curve the palm of his hand around one of my cheeks. Subtly I tense at this totally bare contact, his hand feeling hot and everywhere, but I am ever aware that Harry is much too worked up right now and needs more than I have been giving him. I want more. Unable to help myself, I move one of my frozen hands from my side to hold onto his shoulder, feeling the tense muscle work under his shirt, and turn his slow sensual kiss to something with much more fervor, us both becoming lost in our abrupt passion.

By now, we have predictably forgotten all about what we were just talking about.

He groans against my mouth after pulling away slightly for a moment to breathe, nipping at my bottom lip teasingly. We stare uninhibited into each other’s eyes, the blue of mine which has undoubtedly come to life against the electric green of his.

“Mm, I don’t believe I’ve told you yet how much I love your bum,” he says huskily, and when the comment is followed up with a light pinch to my rear I have no choice but to emit a gasp, filling my lungs with much needed air after I unwittingly forget to breathe. “I’ve been admiring it from afar for quite some time, though. It’s perfect, just like the rest of you.”

Somewhere during his latest confession I break off into a flustered giggle and bring my forehead to rest against his, unbelieving that we are up to such things in a private room at his club. Any other time I might have figured I would feel uncomfortable in any place other than my house when it comes to treading new intimate ground with Harry, but in this moment… while a little startled and out of my element, I am more than game.

I feel more than safe in here, straddling Harry, and the room is so private not a single person has even bothered to knock.

“Now this,” he rasps, reaching higher up my dress and to the side of my hip, taking the waistband of my thong between his fingers before he pulls lightly at the flimsy garment. His voice has turned deeper and throaty with restrained hunger. Having chosen it in my obsession of perfecting the outfit—which meant avoiding any possible underwear lines—I didn’t stop to think of the possibility of something like this happening. “I did not expect.”

I have no idea how to reply, embarrassed though ultimately happy with my choice now that I can see and feel just how much Harry approves of it, too. Instead, a devilish little giggle that sounds so unlike me falls from my mouth and I lean forward, closer to his neck, only to smile when he lets slip a small shiver coupled with a groan when my breath hits the bare flesh of his neck. Harry’s reaction to even the smallest things I do is empowering and gives way to a confidence I very rarely feel; I combine small light kisses to the base of his neck and move my hand from his shoulder, toying with the ends of his curls in a new bold move. All of the sudden I want to prove something to him—I want to prove I can be just as sexy and daring as any other woman he has been with.

Still tentative, though, I use my free hand to hold his arm to steady myself before I connect my mouth softly to the sensitive place where his throat meets the roped muscle of his shoulder. I apply a little pressure and boldly suck at the tender spot, just as he has done to me several times in the past. The difference is he always knows exactly what he is doing and how to best draw small gasps and whimpers from me, whereas I’m just going out on a limb.

The reaction I receive is shocking. Harry sucks in a sharp breath, instantly trying to crush me closer as his hand retreats from underneath my dress to press into the small of my back. I feel his abdomen clench in pleasure from my unexpected attention. Feeling more confident in my actions, now, I continue to apply more kisses after I shift to the other side of his neck, giving it the same treatment.

Daring, I decide to take it a step further and slip my fingers underneath his t-shirt while my lips still slowly work against this throat. His breathing comes hot and heavy underneath me as soon as my touch deviates from my usual norm, and right when my hand comes into contact with his bare, scorching stomach, he holds me closer, pushing down on my hips until they grind into his own. I gasp at the new friction.

I follow the trail of hair that starts at the waste of his jeans and upward, enamoured in every contraction and clench of his lean abdominal muscles, his quiet groan close to my ear. For so long now I’ve wanted to feel the him without the obstruction of clothing, though now my own dress has ridden up dangerously high on my hips—almost showing my scant article which are supposed to be panties, and Harry’s strong holds tells me he doesn’t plan to let go any time soon.

“Julia,” he rasps out anyway, a slight restrained warning to his tone. I can tell his control is very quickly unraveling, and for once the thought doesn’t startle me. “If you keep this up for much longer, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

Shocked from my stupor with his honest words, I lean back to take a moment and collect myself, to realize exactly how far this has gone. I try to think with a clear mind, not with a lust driven stubbornness to prove I am just as much of a woman as those he has been with in the past. With a tinge of regret, I feel the extent of his arousal as our pelvises are pressed together under the coarse fabric of his jeans, rubbing roughly into my thighs. Harry breathes in slow, laboured breaths and his intense, darkened gaze doesn’t falter even for a moment.

“Sorry,” I all but squeak out, almost feeling a little rejected. It sounds as if Harry is so sure I will chicken out that he doesn’t even want to try. Any other time before now this might have been the case, and in reality he is right to guess as much. But now I do—or did. Now I doubt myself far too much to go any farther.

To my surprise and slight chagrin, Harry quite literally laughs out loud; a boyish chuckle in disbelief while he looks at me in pure astonishment, and he pulls me closer as soon as I try to remove myself from his lap out of embarrassment. He fixes my dress again too, much like he did earlier tonight, the action gentle and not nearly as rushed as he was a moment ago. Being so flustered I didn’t even think to check my appearance, and my embarrassment kicks up a notch. “Don’t be sorry. You’ve just got me worked up enough as it is.”

He laughs again because he knows I feel his excitement—what partly shocked me back to reality in the first place. “If you bring me any closer to the edge, Jules, I don’t know if I would be able to control myself.”

Harry’s explanations causes me to blush even more, heart rate accelerating at the thought of how much farther things really could have gone if I had pushed him just that little bit more. I pay no mind to my quickening pulse, too caught up in what has just taken place “Oh,” I mumble, and with a start I pull my hand from underneath his shirt, having not realized I left it there. At this, of course, Harry’s chuckle increases and his eyes twinkle playfully as he stares at me, our eyes almost level in this position. It is hard for me to imagine him losing grip of the careful control he always manages to exercise, but the fact that he admitted he almost did means the possibility is very real.

And while it doesn’t scare me perhaps as much as it should, it still gives way for me to feel embarrassed as hell.

“Crap,” I say again, fiddling with the hem of his shirt out of nervousness, unable to look him in the eye any longer. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…” I want to say I didn’t mean to leave him with the current situation restrained in his pants, but the words stick at the base of my throat and have no hope of ever being voiced. My boldness has long since vanished.

Overwhelmed, I slip off his lap and to the side, still close to him but with a couple of inches of distance between our bodies which were just moments ago connected so closely. I make sure to keep my line of sight strictly to my lap and very far away from his.

“Hey.” He says sternly, grabbing my hand as a means of contact and doesn’t say anything more until I look at him hesitantly through the curtain of my hair. He leans forward so he can fully take in my expression, his own much softer while he studies me, hair a little tousled from my explorative fingers. First he probably sees my reddened cheeks, wide eyes, and then my swollen lips. Jesus, what the hell has gotten into me? Regardless he shakes his head, firmly repeating his last words. “Don’t apologize. In fact, I rather like the little minx tonight has managed to bring out from hiding. I don’t want to scare her away.”

At his playful half-joke I smile wryly and shake my head, too, in dismay. Did we really just do that? Harry probably could have pulled the dress clear from my body and I wouldn’t have muttered a single protest. Okay—that might be a slight exaggeration, but still fairly close to the truth. I know he is perfectly aware of this, too. Of all places I am finally willing to go farther than ever, and it has to be at a freaking night club. I start to feel a little sleazy and more inexperienced than ever, because I was just now blindsided by a desire so strong I haven’t ever felt before. There have been moments in the past with Harry where they have become a little intense, but never to the point where the shedding of clothes took place.

Gentle fingers to my jawline guide my head to this side, and Harry kisses me softly once, this time not quite so feverish. This is one of reassurance, which I need so much right now. “No rush, baby,” he says against my mouth, causing mu lips to quirk up into his as I gently peck his plump lower lip.

“Are you sure?” I can’t help but to question anyhow, the mystery having prodded the back of my mind more times that I’d feel comfortable admitting. While I for certain would not have gone all the way tonight—especially in such a place—I was certainly willing to try a little more. I wanted to test my limits, and right now it isn’t clear whether or not it was a good thing that the moment was cut short.

Harry’s mouth disconnects from mine and I reluctantly open my eyes, lashes fluttering to take him in through the dim lighting, and he regards me with a look in his green eyes which mingles between incredulity and conviction. It isn’t that I doubt his intentions… I haven’t in a while, but only now do I possess the courage and nerve it takes for to approach this topic with him. Finally, I want to get things straight. Now seems as good a time as any, I figure, although admittedly I do feel a little guilty for catching Harry so off guard. So far tonight so much has happened—it might be early, but my mind is exhausted already. From new friends, possible problems, job offers and what has only just now happened between Harry and I, my mind is on overdrive in an attempt to make sense of everything.

“Yes,” Harry affirms slowly, with determination, and he allows a few moments for his one worded answer to sink in. I nod hastily and try to stand, suddenly regretting my snap decision to bring this up because He looks at me as if I have finally gone completely insane, but he pulls me back down while wearing that same small frown.

“You have zero pressure from me, understand? Jules,” he laces my name with a warning when it takes me a second too long to look back up to him.

“Okay,” I agree softly, but when I really look into his eyes I see he wants more than a mumbled out, half-assed response. He deserves more than that. So I take another deep breath and try to explain myself. “I just wanted to bring it up because… I’ve been thinking about it lately.”

Only when the words can’t be taken back, rearranged and thought out a little more so they don’t imply something totally different than what I mean, do I realize how inversely my confession could be taken than how I intend. Immediately, my hand slips from underneath his to cover the side of my face in mortification. “No, no, that’s now what I meant,” I groan, muffled through my hand.

Next to me, the man who manages to remain so composed and refrains from adding to my embarrassment when I say or do something idiotic breaks down into a fit of unrestrained, deep chuckles. The sound of his amusement only adds to my humiliation. “I mean—I didn’t know how you felt or if you even want to…” I end my desperate, high pitched explanation to insert my proverbial foot straight into my own stupid mouth. Again. Harry’s lighthearted laughter deepens at my fragmented, rushed clarification. It makes absolutely no sense even to me, and if anything, it only makes things worse.

"Yes, Julia, if that’s all you’re worried about. I definitely want to,” he says eventually, after I murmur his name in a desperate plea. With a peek through my fingers I watch as he wipes the corners of his eyes, erasing any traces of laughter even though his lips still twitch in suppressed amusement. Gee, Harry, I’m glad you get such a kick out of my inexperience. “But just because I want to doesn’t mean I’m going to be an impatient oaf.”

How did I even bring us to talking about this? In high school I had a hard time even listening to health class without an enormous blush and downcast eyes, yet here I am willing breaking my personally forbidden ice. Thanks to my rare unfiltered thoughts, we are set up for what feels like quite possibly one of the most awkward conversations in existence.

The only explanation is, I suppose, that he is bringing all of this out in me. His forwardness is rubbing off. But now Harry believes I think about having sex with him all the time… and damn, while a small exaggeration, it isn’t totally a lie. While I process his reassurance and take comfort from it, I can’t handle this any further. “Harry, just—forget I said anything.”

Sensing now just how much this has been bothering me, Harry turns serious and gently pries away the hand I settled on my cheek to act as a small wall between us, shielding my intensely heated face, and while holding my hand securely he cranes his head a little to get a closer, intense look at me when I refuse eye contact. What he sees causes his brow to pinch, and suddenly I want nothing more than to smooth the concerned crease away with the pad of my thumb.

“No, I won’t forget it. You should feel comfortable telling me anything on your mind, including subjects of an intimate variety.” Somewhere in the blanked part of my mind I register and appreciate his strategic, euphemistic approach, but mostly I’m stuck on the fact that he obviously does not want to let this go, not when I already made such a big deal out of it. Forcing my system not to go into a catatonic state of shock, I steel myself and take Harry’s words at face value. He’s right. We’re both mature, consenting adults. I have nothing to be so worked up over.

“I know,” I try to ease his worries quietly, shifting closer so the distance between us isn’t so great. Just the feeling of his arm brushing against mine does some good in calming my rattled nerves. Tonight is nothing short of a whirlwind. “I know.”

And I do. Harry would be comfortable talking about anything and everything under the sun—over time, I hope to be the same with him.

“I would wait until the end of the world for you,” he promises, lowering his voice until he is almost as quiet as my own whispering self. My heart flutters in the addictive way I have come to crave upon his new promise and I lean to rest my head against his shoulder with a small, satisfied smile. “And don’t forget that.”

Harry is patient, as always, while I summon the nerve and confidence to look up to him again, tilting my head. My smile only grows when he leans down to place a playful kiss to my mouth. “I won’t,” I reassure him when he pulls back, and he looks down at me in quiet wonderment, satisfied with what he’s coaxed from me even while I all but fought it tooth and nail.

Now that I have another thing out of the way, I feel a little more confident in that I am even more in the clear to break Harry the news of my heart.

“Thank you, for humouring me.” It feels as if it is an obligation for me to say, and much more than simply thanking him for guiding us through what would otherwise have been an awkward conversation.

Anyone else might have just kept laughing and brushed off my overly analytic worries, but not Harry. Never Harry. It is in this very fact that I have been able to become so comfortable with him faster and easier than I ever have with anyone else, in myself. And I am not blind to how much credit he truly deserves in all of this, in helping me to be a stronger person. My murmured thanks has much more meaning than I let on, but I have a feeling Harry knows exactly how much I mean it.

Notes

The ending seems a little abrupt to me, but for the sake of my sanity I had to end it somewhere! Haha. The good news is that I have the next chapter completed already, and it is just waiting for editing (even though I still manage to miss spelling and grammatical errors... oops! I'm working on it, guys!)

So.... a job offer from Mr. Styles. Who could've seen that one coming, amirite? Do you think it's a good idea for Julia to take it? It will, after all, get her away from Alex and all the trouble that comes with him. Let me know, I love hearing your thoughts and predictions and all the other lovely things you have to say!

Everyone more than exceeded my expectations in regards to comments on the last chapter, so I'd just like to thank you for that :) Seriously ily and I couldn't wait any longer to post this because you're all amazing!