Forbidden Love
Cute As A Button. (11th Chapter)
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Evelyn's POV:
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Just as I was going to answer, the door slams open; revealing a worried Desmond followed by a butler and Mrs. Higgins. “(He asks frantically) Darling why were you yelling? Are you well? Does your ankle hurt again?” I shake my head, bursting out in laughter with Harry at the three shocked faces. “I’m totally fine. Harry was just giving me a lesson in 'face painting'.” Harry’s chuckle shows again, while I groan; trying to hide my smile.
“Oh thank god. I was scared, but on the bright side. I am glad that both of you are getting along so far. I’ll be heading back to work.” Desmond walks out of the room, while Mrs. Higgins and the butler follow his footsteps; closing the door quietly. Harry’s eyes are still facing the closed door, and I take his distraction as an advantage.
As fast as I could, I snatch the paintbrush from Harry’s hand, drawing a huge red circle over the tip of his nose. He squirms, trying to move backwards, but he isn’t fast enough; since the circle was drawn completely. “(I cross my arms, speaking with victory) There, cute as a button.” He shakes his head, laughing hard at my words. I allow my ears to hear his laughter, ringing the walls of my soul with its vibrant tone. He laughs like a little sneaky kid, which is quite adorable. I place the brush on the counter, still dazing in his world of wonderful features.
I suddenly realize how far my admiration is increasing to this young man, which forces me to remember that this is all wrong. I shouldn’t be viewing him in this way; he’s my husband’s son. “(I lower my head on the ground, speaking calmly; returning the formality in my tone) I should be going to bed. Tomorrow night is plentiful, and I must rest. Good night, Harry.”
His laughter vanishes from sight, as I twist the doorknob, opening the door. The moment I place my heel outside, his voice snaps: “Wait!” My body freezes, receiving an inner feeling of anticipation from his words. He doesn’t want me to go? I turn my back to face him, looking at him again. His extra-large shirt that is loose on his abdomen, the way his tight–black jeans contrast perfectly with his white socks, and how that headband is wrapped around his dangling curls; he is a piece of art himself.
The artist is his own masterpiece, and my eyes are the frame that holds his living portrait up high to glow under the lights of purity. “(He plays with the hem of his shirt, clearly nervous and not having a planned word to say) Uh… I just wanted to say goodnight. And that stain on your cheek would disappear, if you just cleaned it with alcohol. Perhaps your face wash, or perfume, or whatever…” I nod slowly, before turning back to step out if his room.
Why does it always feel so frustrating at the end of our conversations? It was similar in the morning, when we were having breakfast together. The knowing feeling that he wants to say something but can’t; is still haunting my mind. Why can’t he open up and allow me to hear his truthful thoughts about me? Am I anti-social or stiff? If that’s not the main case, then what is? Could Harry be feeling the same vibes that I receive; whenever he is in my sight?
But how is that possible, if he keeps shunning me away. Hold on a second, I was just with him right now; and he didn’t push me away. My god is this possible? Is harry beginning to… like me? If this is the answer to my unsolved detections, then it’s a happy day for my mother’s plan. I’m getting close, mother; I’m getting close till your wishes come true.
Evelyn's POV:
.........................
Just as I was going to answer, the door slams open; revealing a worried Desmond followed by a butler and Mrs. Higgins. “(He asks frantically) Darling why were you yelling? Are you well? Does your ankle hurt again?” I shake my head, bursting out in laughter with Harry at the three shocked faces. “I’m totally fine. Harry was just giving me a lesson in 'face painting'.” Harry’s chuckle shows again, while I groan; trying to hide my smile.
“Oh thank god. I was scared, but on the bright side. I am glad that both of you are getting along so far. I’ll be heading back to work.” Desmond walks out of the room, while Mrs. Higgins and the butler follow his footsteps; closing the door quietly. Harry’s eyes are still facing the closed door, and I take his distraction as an advantage.
As fast as I could, I snatch the paintbrush from Harry’s hand, drawing a huge red circle over the tip of his nose. He squirms, trying to move backwards, but he isn’t fast enough; since the circle was drawn completely. “(I cross my arms, speaking with victory) There, cute as a button.” He shakes his head, laughing hard at my words. I allow my ears to hear his laughter, ringing the walls of my soul with its vibrant tone. He laughs like a little sneaky kid, which is quite adorable. I place the brush on the counter, still dazing in his world of wonderful features.
I suddenly realize how far my admiration is increasing to this young man, which forces me to remember that this is all wrong. I shouldn’t be viewing him in this way; he’s my husband’s son. “(I lower my head on the ground, speaking calmly; returning the formality in my tone) I should be going to bed. Tomorrow night is plentiful, and I must rest. Good night, Harry.”
His laughter vanishes from sight, as I twist the doorknob, opening the door. The moment I place my heel outside, his voice snaps: “Wait!” My body freezes, receiving an inner feeling of anticipation from his words. He doesn’t want me to go? I turn my back to face him, looking at him again. His extra-large shirt that is loose on his abdomen, the way his tight–black jeans contrast perfectly with his white socks, and how that headband is wrapped around his dangling curls; he is a piece of art himself.
The artist is his own masterpiece, and my eyes are the frame that holds his living portrait up high to glow under the lights of purity. “(He plays with the hem of his shirt, clearly nervous and not having a planned word to say) Uh… I just wanted to say goodnight. And that stain on your cheek would disappear, if you just cleaned it with alcohol. Perhaps your face wash, or perfume, or whatever…” I nod slowly, before turning back to step out if his room.
Why does it always feel so frustrating at the end of our conversations? It was similar in the morning, when we were having breakfast together. The knowing feeling that he wants to say something but can’t; is still haunting my mind. Why can’t he open up and allow me to hear his truthful thoughts about me? Am I anti-social or stiff? If that’s not the main case, then what is? Could Harry be feeling the same vibes that I receive; whenever he is in my sight?
But how is that possible, if he keeps shunning me away. Hold on a second, I was just with him right now; and he didn’t push me away. My god is this possible? Is harry beginning to… like me? If this is the answer to my unsolved detections, then it’s a happy day for my mother’s plan. I’m getting close, mother; I’m getting close till your wishes come true.
Notes
1 more chapter to go, so:
KEEP READING BEAUTIES <3 :D xx
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This is amazing :) you are an amazing writer ^_^ very different, yet very clever :D
3/29/15