Harry and I stepped out onto the street once again after leaving the pottery shop. I felt bad not purchasing anything but I left with more than I could've ever imagined. Harry held my hand tightly and he seemed a bit out of it. I gazed up at his gorgeous face. His bright green eyes were intense and set on the street in front of us. I rubbed his knuckles lightly. I wanted him to look at me but he didn't.
"Harry, look at me." I murmured. He dropped his intense stare to my face. "What's wrong?" I asked. He smiled; it was a genuine smile, a smile that reached his eyes. He still felt different though. Something in the way his eyes peered into mine.
He shook his head, "Nothing is wrong. I'm trying to find another place for us to visit." His voice raised a half octave. He was lying to me. There was something more on his mind. I wasn't about to push it though. If there was something wrong or something different, I didn't want to start a conversation about it in public.
"Let's do something that you would like. We just spent three hours in the pottery shop." I grinned up at him. He shrugged and continued to lead me down the streets. Something had altered him. It wasn't that I unhappy being around him now, but there was something going on inside his head. I wanted to know what it was. Usually, I read him like an open book. It was an anomaly in our relationship, or whatever it was, for me to wonder about what he was thinking and feeling. The longer he went without speaking the more I began to contemplate what was going on with him. What had made his mood shift?
Finally, Harry smiled and tugged my hand, "Let's go in here." I turned to where he was pointing. An art gallery. I didn't have time to protest before Harry pulled me in the door. I giggled, picking up my pace to keep up. I was happy the iridescent side of his personality reappeared. He was always most intoxicating when he was vibrant and happy. I protested anyway, wanting to do something he found interesting instead.