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purplecoffee13 · 1 day ago

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NFWMB - PART SEVEN*

Summary: “When Y/N confesses she needs Harry’s toolbox, he comes rushing to give it to her…” (I’m sorry this summary is so fucking stupid lmfao😭)

Wc: 5.2k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment/assault, bit of angst, SMUT, praise kink, sub/dom dynamics, teehee🤭

A/N: helloooo as promised, here is a new chapter of NFWMB in celebration of me getting my bachelor’s degree (woo🥳)! Thank you for being patient with me💞 I love these two they are so cutiepatootie, so happy reading!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

Harry was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

Ever since Y/N had told him she wanted him, he had been floating on a cloud of ecstasy.

Sure, his original intention was to do it all the old-fashioned traditional way. Take her out to dinner, take it slow, really court her. But when Y/N said she didn't like the pressure of dating, he knew he needed to act quick in order to not fully lose her. He'd do anything in any way she wanted, as long as he could get a chance to show her how much he wanted her.

Now, this was definitely not the traditional way, but Harry hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. The sole idea of Y/N in that intimate capacity had the ability to send him to the edge. He needed to actively seek distractions in order not to think about it all day.

But when he wasn't thinking of Y/N's beauty or the agreement they made, his mind would float to that pathetic rat that had dared to make her feel unsafe. That had... touched her. He couldn't think about it too long either, not wanting to do anything rash and disrespecting Y/N's wish for him to let her handle the situation.

He just felt so angry and frustrated, and he wanted to her help her so bad, but he just didn't know how. Teaching her to defend herself was the help he was able to give for now, but he was hoping for her to let him in and let him offer her more emotional support as well.

All in good time, he thought.

For now, he was trying to focus on giving his client all of his attention while he was doing his exercises. He was a personal trainer for a select group of people who paid a significant amount to get the most detailed training, so the time-slots with these clients required his full focus.

"All right, good form Brady. That was the last one for today. I still see some restraints when you jump, which is coming from a lack of focus on hip exercises, so we're going to be incorporating those from Friday onward. Sound good?"

The sixty-five year old man smiled at Harry. He had come in here about four months earlier, wanting intensive personal training after five years of not working out because he had decided he was going to run a marathon by the end of the year. He'd later told Harry that his daughter was training for the marathon, and since they used to run together when she was little, he'd wanted to surprise her. Harry immediately signed himself on as Brady's personal trainer.

"I mean that's what I pay you for, right?" Brady joked, wiping off some sweat with the small towel around his neck. Harry huffed out a laugh, humming in agreement and handing Brady his water bottle. Suddenly, he heard a 'ping' sound coming from his pockets.

Turning on his phone, Harry frowned at seeing he had two message notifications from an unknown number.

Unknown

Heyy, I'm so sorry to bother you but I have kind of a weird question.

My bathroom cabinet door just kind of fell off its hinges and Sophie said you had a toolbox. And since I do not have one of my own, nor know how to fix this, I was wondering if maybe you had time to come over and help me somewhere later today?

This is Y/N, by the way. Sorry I should have started with that.

Harry hadn't realized how wide his smile was until Brady flicked him with his towel.

"What are you smirking at?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry looked at his client and noted the playful glint in his eyes. "I thought you were a bit different the last few sessions, now I know why."

Harry rolled his eyes, not really saying something. Brady sniffed a laugh and turned to gather his things.

"If she makes you smile like that then you better go for it." He said, and Harry was glad that Brady wasn't looking at him because he felt his cheeks turning a little red. "Because I did, and let me tell you... best decision of my life."

A wide smile spread on Harry's face as he listened to the advice of his client. He didn't even try to deny it, just took it with a smile and a nod. Brady only winked at him before walking off to the lockers. Harry immediately opened the chat with Y/N and put her into his contact list.

Harry

Hey

Of course, I'm free for the rest of the day, so just let me know when I can come by.

He quickly shut off his phone before he could overthink his text too much, and scurried off to his office to stress out in private. By the time he whipped his phone out again, he had a text from Y/N.

Y/N

Really? That'd be great, thank you!

I'm working from home today so you could swing by at like 4 if you want?

Fuck yeah, Harry thought.

Harry

Alright, see you in a bit.

With toolbox.

Y/N

Thanks! You're a life saver!

Harry beamed the whole way home. In his car, while he sought the toolbox, as he put the car in the toolbox. He just couldn't stop being giddy over the fact that Y/N had called him a life saver. It was kind of terrifying; how much an impact she had on his mood. Then again, he was too damn happy to worry about it.

It was only a fifteen minute drive from Harry's place to Y/N's. He wondered how it was possible that they'd only recently crossed paths. Maybe it was some kind of faith. Maybe they had come into each other's life at the exact right time.

Harry forced himself to stop pondering as he rang the downstairs doorbell. Taking a deep breath, he waited for Y/N to open the door. When the buzzer went off, Harry was quick to push the door open and hurry upstairs to her apartment.

Y/N was standing in the door opening, smiling as Harry walked up to her. She gave him a small wave, cracking a smile out of him too. She was just so adorable.

That was until his eyes traveled down to her legs, which were barely covered. She was only wearing tiny shorts and a large cardigan. And there was absolutely nothing adorable about those legs.

"Hey." She said when he was finally close enough. Her gaze dropped down to the toolbox in Harry's hand. It was a gift from his dad that he had gotten when he'd just moved out, but the box was huge. It did come in handy whenever something broke, though. Harry barely ever had to run to the store.

"I said bring a toolbox, not the entire hardware store." Y/N joked, stepping aside to let him in. Harry faked a gasp as he stepped into the apartment, his stomach swirling at the memory of the last time he was here.

"Are you making fun of my toolbox, Y/N?" He raised a playful brow, the insinuation floating between the two of them. Y/N stepped closer to Harry.

"I wouldn't dare to make fun of your toolbox." She replied cheekily. Harry's eyes slightly widened at her words. He had expected her to get a bit shy like she always did, but he was pleasantly surprised by her surge of confidence.

It took Harry a few seconds to regain himself, delaying his response. "So, where's the broken cabinet?"

Y/N pointed to a door on her right, and Harry immediately walked towards the bathroom. She was really looking too beautiful today but he needed to focus on fixing this cabinet before he could divide his entire attention to every inch of her skin, despite how badly he wanted to abandon everything and just spend the rest of his life in these four walls admiring her.

He went to work quickly, and Y/N brought him a glass of water while he began rummaging through the toolbox to find the right hinges and screwdrivers. Y/N sat leaned forward on the edge of her bathtub, head leaning on her hands as her stare burned a hole in his brain. He felt his ears turning red at the feeling of being watched by her, but he liked it too much to say anything about it.

"All done." Harry said after ten minutes, turning to see a gaping Y/N looking at the fixed cabinet door. She gasped as she got down to the floor and sat next to Harry, fascinated by the working door.

"Oh my god, you're so fast!" Y/N said with a wide smile as her fingers grazed over the new hinges. Just for good measure, she opened and closed the cabinet. Her gaze flicked over to Harry, the closeness between them suddenly very obvious.

"Thank you." She said softly. Her shy smile made the urge to kiss her almost too big to bear. Harry found himself automatically starting to lean in when Y/N suddenly pulled away and turned back with a glass of water in her hand.

"You didn't drink anything yet." She stated, her big eyes looking up at him. Y/N was back to being her skittish self, and for some reason, when she nervously bit her lip, Harry couldn't handle it anymore.

Leaping forward, he grabbed her face and put her lips on his. Slightly taken aback by the impact of the movement, Y/N let out a small noise, combining a yelp and a moan, but she immediately kissed him back. It was only because Harry felt something dripping from his elbow, that he leaned back from the phenomenal kiss.

Splattered all over Y/N's cardigan was the water that had once been in the glass she still holding. It must've tipped over when Harry launched toward her. She looked down and let out a small laugh.

"Oh, you made me all wet!" She giggled, trying to wipe over her cardigan as if it would help the situation. Harry groaned at Y/N's words, his cock suddenly straining way too much in his pants.

"Fucking hell..." he cursed under his breath, hoping it was subtle enough. Y/N heard it anyway, a frown on her face as she met the eyes of the pained man in front of her. Only when a few seconds had passed, she realized the double meaning of her sentence.

"Oh." was the only thing that came out of her mouth as she stared blankly at Harry. Slowly, he began to worry. Had he made her uncomfortable? He couldn't read her face expression.

He was about to ask if everything was okay, when Y/N's hands slowly floated to the button of her cardigan. Harry's eyes followed suit, and his heart rate began to pick up as she began to unbutton her cardigan.

Harry had to actively keep his mouth closed as he watched her take off the cardigan to reveal nothing but a yellow lace bra underneath it. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to touch her in any way he could, but he waited. Either for a signal or to ask for her consent. Just because she was taking off her cardigan didn't mean he'd suddenly gained the right to touch her.

He'd do anything to earn it, though. He'd get on his damn knees to beg for it if he had to.

"Better to take it off, right?" She whispered, a bit uncertainty lacing her words. She was timid; it was the first time she'd really initiated something in this manner.

"Right." Harry whispered back, making sure to keep his eyes on hers. Y/N frowned a bit.

"I bought this yesterday, do you like it?" She ran her fingers over the lace of the bra. Harry's eyes lowered, and he took his time to observe every inch of her breasts and the lace that covered them. His cock was growing painfully hard, but he had to be patient.

"I love it. Fits you perfectly." He rasped. He glanced at Y/N, who swallowed at his words. When his gaze traveled back to her chest, he could see the quickened breaths she was taking.

"Does it make you want to touch me?"

Harry could've melted at the shy words that left Y/N's mouth. He took a deep breath, restraining himself.

"Y/N, everything about you makes me want to touch you." He said, his stomach fluttering as he saw a smile grow on her face. He smirked, leaning closer until his lips were mere inches away from hers. "Can I touch you, darling?"

"Please."

Harry needed nothing more to immediately go in for the kill. He planted hungry kisses on her chin and jaw, working his way down to her neck, Y/N ragged breathing and stifled moans only encouraging him more. His hands traveled up to her chest, cupping one of her breasts and softly squeezing it has he worked to leave bruises on her neck.

"I— Ah... I bought it for you." Y/N croaked out in between moans, her hands searching for any part of Harry's body to hold onto.

Harry groaned into her neck, the confession making him go crazy. Wrapping both his arms around Y/N waist, he pulled her into his lap, placing her right on his hardened cock.

"Yeah? Just for me?" He asked, looking up at her as his fingers trailed the bare skin on her back. Y/N hummed, unconsciously rolling her hips against him to get closer. "How'd you know yellow is my favorite color?"

Y/N sniffed a laugh, her cheeks turning red. "I didn't know it was."

"It is now." Harry said, diving his head in between her breast to leave kisses all over her chest. Y/N grabbed Harry's hair, slightly tugging on it as his mouth touched her all over.

"Harry, please..." She sighed, trying not to moan too loudly. He backed away, looking up at the panting girl in front of him.

"What is it darling? What d'you need?"

Y/N let out a huff. "You know what..."

"No I don't." Harry shrugged, shaking his head. "If you want something you gotta tell me. I always need to know you want it."

Y/N's face was puzzled, and possibly a bit taken aback by Harry's stern statement. He could see her trying to scramble the words in her brain. He knew it wouldn't be easy for a shy girl like her, but he hoped that learning to voice her needs would help her become more confident. In all aspects of her life.

"I... I want you to touch me."

"I am touching you." He took it a little further. Y/N groaned.

"I mean—" she dropped her shoulders. "I want you to touch me.... down there... if you want! Of course. I don't—"

Harry was quick to grab her face. "I want to do whatever you ask of me, don't worry about that. Just tell me what you want, you're doing good baby."

Y/N nodded, looking away as she scraped together some courage. She swallowed before locking eyes with Harry again.

"I want you to touch my pussy with your fingers... please." She said, her eyes wide as she waited for Harry's reaction.

Suddenly, Harry stood up. Y/N clung to him as he went to stand straight and planted her in front of the counter next to the sink. He could tell she was confused when he took a step away from her.

"Take off your shorts and your panties." Was all he said. Y/N did as she was told, quickly taking off her clothes and throwing them to the side. Harry admired her body as she stood there in front of him, waiting for his next move.

"Good girl." He said before grabbing her hips and turning her around to face the mirror in front of them. She was so tiny compared to him. It wasn't that she was extremely short, but his muscles made him way broader in comparison to her frame. But still it was perfect, she was perfect for him.

"See yourself, baby?" He said, lowering his head to plant a kiss in her neck while his arms snaked around her waist. He looked at her through the mirror, seeing her nod in agreement. "You look so perfect, don't you? Tell yourself you look perfect."

Y/N brows creased. "W— what?"

"Tell yourself you look perfect." Harry repeated matter-of-factly, stunning Y/N a bit. She opened her mouth but no sound came out; she was contemplating.

"I look... perfect?" She tilted her head slightly as she did what he asked, but Harry just scoffed.

"A little more conviction, please."

Y/N sighed, hesitantly biting her lip. "I look perfect."

Harry's fingers dug into the sides of her waist, and pulled her into him. In the way her eyes widened slightly, he figured she could feel the bulge that was hiding in his jeans.

"That's it, baby. Yeah you do." He encouraged her with a smile, causing Y/N cheeks to turn red a bit and look down. She gasped when he suddenly slipped his hand into her panties, the sudden touch on her clit causing her to lean into him. Y/N's eyes fluttered shut as she tried not to make too much noise as Harry's fingers explored her cunt.

"Just when I thought it couldn't get more perfect..." Harry said, planting a kiss on her neck before suddenly sticking a finger inside of her. Y/N's hips bucked slightly at the sudden intrusion, and she was quick to grab onto the counter in front of her.

"Shit..." she whispered, breathing becoming more heavy as Harry added a finger. The wet noises of Y/N pussy filled the room, and Harry's pants tightened even more at the sound of it.

Needing her to come desperately before he was going to cream his own pants, Harry picked up his pace. Y/N let out a whine at the speed of his fingers, and began to clench around them.

"You gonna come for me baby?" He took it as a sign, and by the way Y/N's head was hanging low with nothing but small moans leaving her lips, he was interpreting it just right. She quickly nodded in response, keeping her eyes closed as her face began to scrunch up. Harry eyed the counter she was holding onto, and spotted her white knuckled hands.

"You're doing so good, you can come for me." He motivated her. It didn't take more than a few seconds for her to start spasming around his fingers. Y/N's body fell forward a bit, her shaky legs barely being able to keep her up as she came around Harry's fingers. He was quick to pull her back into him, forcing her to hold onto to his arm as she rode out her orgasm on his hand.

Whispering sweet nothings in her ear, Harry took his time to let Y/N come down from her orgasm. When she finally opened her eyes, and Harry's spotted the dazed look in her eyes, he couldn't help but smile.

"There she is." He teased. Her cheeks were a bright pink from the orgasm she just had, and a small giggle left her mouth. "Was that good for you? Was that what you wanted?"

Y/N said nothing, solely smiling as she turned around to face Harry. His brows furrowed slightly as the silence went on, but he froze when she suddenly began to sink to her knees.

"Baby, you don't have to feel obligated to—"

Immediately, her smile dropped, much like Harry's heart. She looked up at him with those doe eyes of her, looking disappointed.

"You don't want that?" She asked, and Harry was pretty sure a piece of his heart cracked at hearing the tone of her voice.

"I want everything from you. I just don't want you to feel like you have to make me feel good just because I make you feel good, okay?" He explained, hoping she would understand.

Y/N tilted her head. "But... I want it."

Harry thought it over for a minute, then answered.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

Y/N swallowed, then nodded. Harry quirked up a brow.

"Yes." She voiced quickly, instantly understanding his silent demand for verbal consent.

"And you wanna suck me off?"

Again, Y/N nodded. "Yes."

"Greedy girl." Harry's lips quirked up, and he pushed back a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "Alright, who am I to say no? But just for a little bit, I don't think I'll last long."

Y/N hummed eagerly, immediately reaching for Harry's pants. He was shocked at her sudden burst of confidence when she turned them around so Harry could lean against the counter. He wondered where she'd learned that move, and then he quickly took that thought back, because he didn't want to think about Y/N making this move on other men.

All racing thoughts were thrown out the window when Y/N pulled down Harry's boxers. He could tell she was a bit surprised, and he would be lying if he said it didn't inflate his ego just a bit.

"You still sure about this?" He asked for good measure. Y/N looked at him, a bit... annoyed?

Harry didn't have much time to figure out what the expression on her face meant, because before he knew it, she licked a long stripe from his baseball the way to the tip of cock. Harry hissed, gripping onto the counter as she began to kitten lick the tip.

Fuck, he wasn't gonna last long like this at all.

When Y/N properly put her lips around him and began to really suck him off, Harry had to do everything in his power not to come in the spot. Automatically, he threw his head back, but as soon as he realized he was missing the view of the most beautiful angel he'd ever seen giving him a blowjob, his eyes traveled back to her.

"Fucking— hell..."

Looking up through her lashes, Y/N was sucking on Harry, taking care of what she couldn't take in her mouth with her hand. And then, when she began to speed up, Harry couldn't take it anymore.

Leaning forward, he pulled Y/N off his cock and got her to stand up straight. She yelped at the sudden movement, and she looked slightly offended to be disturbed during her performance of a lifetime. Somehow, when he lifted her up, she knew to wrap her legs around him. She held on tightly as he moved out of the bathroom and made his way over to the couch.

"I have a condom with me."

Y/N tilted her head. "I’m on contraceptives."

"Okay." Harry said. "I haven't been with anyone in like, three months. I got tested then, and I'm clean."

Y/N nodded. "Right... well I haven't been with anyone for like, two years, so I'm definitely clean."

Again, Harry would have been lying if he said that didn't made him feel a bit better about the two of them. But that was not the focus of right now.

"Alright, no condom then?" He asked.

"No condom." Y/N repeated, and that was that.

Sitting down with Y/N on his lap, Harry let her go at her own pace as she grabbed his cock and lined it up with her pussy. It was difficult not to dig his nails into her when she pushed his cock into her. Her jaw was slack, definitely getting used to the size and girth of the man she was pushing inside of her.

It was a matter of patience, but Y/N's tight walls, that patience was running thin. When Harry was about halfway in, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Want me to help?" Harry asked, and when Y/N nodded, he bucked his hips up, impaling her on his dick. She let out a loud a moan at the harshness, throwing her head back. But Harry didn't stop, he began to fuck up into her.

He was mesmerized, watching her tits bounce from the impact, her head back and her neck on display. She was a sight for sore eyes and he couldn't believe he was lucky enough to see her like this.

"Fuck, angel, you feel so good." The nickname slipped out like it was the most normal thing on earth. Harry was pleasantly surprised to feel her clenching around him in response, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"D'you like that? When I call you angel?" He began to provoke her. She nodded.

"I love it." The confession slipped past her lips. She opened her eyes, gazing into Harry's. "Again, please."

"Yeah? Want me to call you angel?" He asked, the rhetoric question earning some groans from Y/N's side. "You know why I call you angel, baby?"

"Why?" Her voice was soft, breath hitching as she began bouncing on Harry's cock more now that he had slowed his pace.

"Because the first time I saw you I thought I was dreaming." Harry said, holding onto her waist. Y/N let out a small moan. "You have this radiation about you, angel. You light up every room you’re in."

"Fuck..." Y/N cursed under her breath. "I can't— I need more, please, please..."

Harry groaned at the sheer desperation in her voice, pulling out to switch positions and laying Y/N on her back. When he entered her again, he didn't waste much time before pounding into her.

"Needed this angel? Needed me so bad, huh?" He asked, watching Y/N's eyes roll back as she tried to hold onto anything she could in order not to fall off the couch.

"Harry— oh my god!" She cried out helplessly, clawing onto his chest and arms. She wrapped her legs around Harry's torso, and he leaned forward to go even deeper, his cross chain dangling above her mouth.

Harry about lost it when she took the chain between her teeth and used it to pull him closer before putting her lips on his. All the sounds that left their mouths entered each other, their pleasure flowing between bodies like a steady wave.

Harry wasn't surprised that Y/N stopped kissing him, having felt her clench around his hard cock. She couldn't even get a word out, but Harry knew enough.

"C'mon angel, come for me." He growled, beginning to chase his own high as Y/N came around him.

Harry's orgasm followed not long after, and he was quick to pull out, his seed coating her lower stomach. Both were breathing heavily, not really speaking to each other as they came down from their highs. After a minute or two, Harry leaned forward and planted a kiss on Y/N's forehead before getting up from the couch.

Y/N was too dazed to say anything about it, but she didn't have to wait long before Harry returned with paper towels to clean up the mess he made. He praised her casually as he wiped her stomach clean.

When he was done, he pulled her to sit up straight on the couch and got a glass of water for the both of them. Again, Y/N could only nod. He sat back down, handing one of the glasses to the girl next to him and watched her take some big sips before grabbing the glasses again and putting it back on the table. He was shocked when Y/N suddenly spoke up.

"I think I'm gonna quit my job." She said, staring at the wall in front of her. Harry put down his drink as well, re-positioning himself on the couch so he was sitting towards her.

"Y/N..." He was speechless. Seeing the look on her face, hearing those words come out of her mouth, it hurt him to see her like that. She finally turned to look at him.

"I can't... I can't be in the same space as him." She looked down at her fiddling hands, and Harry spotted the tears welling in her eyes. "I'm just so afraid all the time."

Fuck.

He didn't know how much quicker he could've pulled her into a hug. Y/N didn't particularly hug him back, but she rested her head on his shoulder as she accepted his embrace.

"I'm sorry." Y/N mumbled, barely cohesive as her words were muffled by Harry's shoulder. He pulled away from the hug. "I didn't meant to ruin the vibe."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He reminded her, wiping a tear away from her cheek. "I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me."

Y/N sighed. "It's gonna be hard as shit to find a new job here, though."

It was so incredibly unfair that Y/N had to be the one to switch jobs. Harry's jaw clenched. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to HR? They might be able to do something."

Y/N shook her head. "I don't have proof."

"Sexual harassment isn't about proof. If someone makes you uncomfortable, whether they intend to or not, that is sexual harassment." Harry said. He had a zero tolerance policy at the gym, and unfortunately had a sexual harassment situation once at work when a personal trainer kept making inappropriate comments towards one of the cleaners. He was very thankful that the woman felt safe enough to inform him, and he hated that Y/N didn't have that.

"It's complicated. I went on a date with him, that doesn't make me look very good." She replied. The look in her eyes was hopeless, and it scared him that this situation had been draining her so much.

"I still think you should consider it." Harry insisted anyway, hoping she would keep the option in the back of her mind at the very least.

Y/N shrugged. "I'll see."

The silence loomed over the both of them, and Harry didn't know what to do. He wanted to comfort her, tell her all the right things she wanted to hear. But he wasn't sure what she did or didn't want to hear.

Instead, Harry leaned forward, his hand cupping her jaw. Her eyes fluttered closed, head tilting towards his hand. In turn, his stomach fluttered.

"You're going to be okay, no matter what." He assured her. Sure, he didn't know what she was going to do or how everything was going to turn out, but he felt very strongly that things would be fine.

"Thank you." Y/N whispered sweetly, her eyes still closed.

Harry smiled. She looked safe now.

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove@bitchidontpost @lomlolivia @harringtonhundreds @fruit-harry

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1d1195 · 6 hours ago

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Under Construction IV

Read Under Construction here | ~6.3k

From Me: a date, a party, and a bit of learning

Warning: like two more seconds of blood and then fluff and a bit of angst.

Summary: “Miss Bee, I think Mr. Harry needs help,” Niall said knowingly, teasingly, from his table where a little girl was helping Niall with the glitter that he wanted to add to his pumpkin. They both giggled conspiratorially. She snorted.

“I do not!” Harry glared at his friend then looked up at her with the most innocent, adorable face she had ever seen on a grown man. “Niall’s a tattle tale.”

“Miss Bee says there are no tattle tales in her class, Mr. Harry,” Tyler explained. “She said we have to think about if we need to tell her something first. There’s rules on the wall for it by the clock.”

“Yeah, and I don’t think Niall needed to tell on me,” Harry grumbled.

She was ready thirty-six minutes before Harry was supposed to show up. The anxiety she felt, even though he was there less than twenty-four hours prior, made her bouncy. Her knee was shaking as she sat on her sofa trying not to look at her phone for the twentieth time in the same minute to see that time was not moving any faster.

There was the thought to look in a mirror, but she feared she would ruin her hair for adjusting it too much. Or her makeup for thinking maybe one more swipe of eyeshadow would make her look better. Instead, she continued practically vibrating out of her seat in hopes that somehow Harry would get there faster.

She ignored her texts from Louis and Eleanor, both nearly giggling through their messages about being safe and using protection. She read over the itinerary her sister sent for wedding planning and when she got too overwhelmed, she switched gears to her weekly lesson plan. By then, only a mere nine minutes had passed. With how much she was tapping her foot, she thought that her floor was going to get a matching hole like her ceiling.

It felt like she had never been on a date before, and this was the first one. Maybe it was just the first one that actually mattered. Evan took her on dates of course, and in the early stages of their relationship, they were filled with excitement. But not like this. Everything moved so quickly with Evan. Dates, flowers, moving in, home repairs, and many events. By the end of their relationship, dates were extravagant, but almost always more of an event than spending time with one another.

Maybe it was worth waiting the agonizing twenty-four minutes that she still had to wait before Harry arrived.

Her phone pinged beside her. Harry’s name popped up and she felt her heart leap into her throat. Honestly, if she cancelled, she was going to be devastated. But she would of course understand.

I’m itching to come pick you up, Bird. Any chance you’re ready early? I’m only five minutes away from your place.

The wave of relief that flooded her made her feel two hundred times lighter. She laughed quietly to herself. Yes! I’m ready, I don’t want you to rush, but that would be great!

I’ve been sitting in my car for ten minutes and I just thought I couldn’t wait any longer. You’re sure you don’t mind?

Her heart did a somersault in her chest, and she thought she might explode from how cute he was. 🥰 No not at all. I’ve been a bit restless myself looking forward to our lunch.

😅 Good. I’ll see you in a minute, Bird.

Now she wished she had looked at her hair and makeup one more time. She paced her living room and fiddled with the pictures on the wall making sure they looked straight. Her eyes darted to the hole in her ceiling that Harry and Niall said they would fix next weekend once they were assured it was fully dried. They even went to her attic and set up a fan after breakfast yesterday to ensure the moisture wouldn’t accumulate mold. It made her heart skip a beat again to know he was willing to come help her in the middle of the night.

The knock on her door was expected but still surprised her anyway. She hurried over to the door trying not to sound like she was waiting right by the door. Harry stood on the step, a vase and accompanying flower arrangement in his hand. “Hi,” he grinned. “Y’look stunning,” he said scanning her up and down.

She thought she was going to melt right there in the doorway. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He held out the vase. “M’sister told me that getting your date flowers is nice, but s’a lot of work t’find a vase and take care of them right before y’supposed t’go out,” he smiled sheepishly.

She took the vase, inhaling the scent of the various flowers as she did. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

“I didn’t know what kind of flowers y’liked so I kinda got one of each,” he admitted shyly.

She grinned. “I love it,” she nodded.

“The ceiling’s okay?” He asked.

She nodded again. “But… let’s not worry about it. I want to enjoy our date,” she bit the inside of her lip as she settled the vase on the small table just inside the doorway.

Harry’s smile grew somehow. It was astonishing. She was pretty sure if a lighthouse failed, they could use him instead. He leaned forward, cupping the side of her face and kissing her on the opposite cheek. Just a quick gentle brush of his lips against her skin. It made her feel warm all over, and she knew her cheeks probably turned pinker than the blush she used. If they did, Harry didn’t comment. He released her quickly. “Let’s go then,” he said holding his hand out for her to take (which she did quickly and enjoyed the way he squeezed her hand once he held it). Harry was dressed in dark jeans, a soft blue button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked so good, smelled better than the flowers he gave her, and she seriously thought about asking him if they could just stay on her couch so she could stare at him.

Harry opened the passenger door for her, making her heart tumble over itself once more. He closed her in and headed to the driver’s side. “I thought we’d go a town or two over jus’ so y’don’t run into any kids… unless y’want that. More witnesses and whatnot,” he winked.

She smiled. “No, that’s okay. I’d rather… keep you to myself for now,” she looked at her lap.

He chuckled quietly. “Works for me.”

Harry was fucked. He was worried he was staring at her too much. But then he was worried he was trying to avoid looking at her too much and seemed disinterested. Which was not the case. Harry was almost certain no one could be more interested on a date than the pretty girl sitting across from him. She was looking over the menu, not a particularly fancy place, but there were cloth napkins. Gemma said that a cloth napkin always classed up the date a bit.

Her eyes roamed the menu, her lips pursed in concentration. Harry was enthralled. The way her lashes framed her eyes, the curve of her smile, the wrinkle of her nose when she saw something she didn’t like. “Have you been here before?” She asked.

He shook his head quickly, getting himself to stop staring. “I’ve ordered take out after a job not too far from here.”

She nodded. “It looks really good, thanks for picking. I promise I won’t talk about teaching the whole time, but sometimes I get decision fatigue. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it, but basically, I make a lot of decisions all day long—for a lot of people. Decisions I don’t even realize I’m making. Picking what to eat is so exhausting sometimes that I don’t even make dinner and just have snacks,” she admitted with a smile.

That worried Harry, of course. He wanted to make her dinner all the time and not let her worry about it. “What d’you like t’eat?” He asked.

She smiled. “Oh, I’m not too picky, really. The butternut squash ravioli sounds really good, and it comes with bread. I’ll probably get brussels sprouts too.”

Once more Harry forgot that he was supposed to uphold his end of the conversation. She made her lunch choice sound like an acceptance speech for an award. “Hey Bird?” He asked quietly.

“Hmm?” She looked up.

“Y’can talk ‘bout teaching as much as y’want. M’not gonna get sick of it,” he promised.

She ducked her gaze to the menu again and smiled sadly. “Oh,” she laughed softly. “Thank you,” appreciation dripping in her voice as she looked up at him with an almost confused gaze. “I’m afraid it’s a pretty big part of my life and conversation.”

“Good,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I like hearing about it,” he promised with a grin.

The conversation flowed very easily. They discussed favorites and movies. She offered some of her Brussels sprouts to Harry and he gave her a handful of his French fries when she said they looked really good. He chuckled when she dipped them into the cream sauce that surrounded her ravioli. “It’s good, you should try it.”

It was good. But he still found it funny.

They chatted about their families. Gemma and her baby, his mum, and her family, who were all thoroughly invested in planning this wedding for her sister. “She picked my other sister to be maid of honor, but I’m doing a lot of the work,” she sighed.

“How come?” He asked.

“Because I’m crafty,” she shrugged. “I get roped into making all the stuff for her bachelorette trip—that I’m not going on because it’s during the school year—and I don’t know. She has this vision for the wedding to have some elaborate archway and I stupidly volunteered to make it.”

He smiled. “Do y’have a picture of it?” He asked.

When she went on dates with Evan, phones were nearly a necessity. She didn’t mind, really. They helped keep the conversation going. She would look up things to talk about and show off pictures of her classroom. Not that Evan cared about her classroom. He used his phone to conduct business even while on their date. Check on the score of a game or the like. But it was a little astonishing that she realized she had nearly forgotten she owned a phone until Harry asked for a picture.

“Oh, yeah,” she pulled her phone from her purse and searched through the pictures of the wedding album she created for her sister. “She’s getting married in June, which is also kind of crazy with the end of the school year. But,” she sighed. “It is what it is.”

Harry looked at the archway. It was pretty. Didn’t seem particularly complicated. “What are y’worried about?” He asked.

“Well, building it.”

“Building it?” He repeated.

“Yes. Because purchasing it would be too easy,” she rolled her eyes. “I shouldn’t complain. It’s not that bad, I’m just busy a lot of time and it’s going to be difficult because I need to get the right tools and—” she stopped. “I sound like an awful sister, don’t I?”

“No, not at all,” he shook his head. “S’a big endeavor t’do on your own. But… I have plenty of tools,” he assured her. “And I’ll help you,” he promised. “It’ll go a lot faster and smoother with two people.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Really?” She asked.

What the hell was her ex like that she didn’t feel like she could ask for help? “Yes, really,” he smiled. “S’easy m’sure.”

“Thank you,” she said so graciously, Harry thought his heart was going to melt onto the floor of the restaurant.

��At y’service Miss Bird,” he winked.

Their waiter came back to take their dishes, offered dessert which they declined. “Kitten, put your money away. S’useless here,” he shook his head putting his card into the check presenter. She blushed.

“You don’t have—”

“M’not having this discussion,” he shook his head. “S’no bother. M’happy y’wanted t’come out with me. I know you’re busy and m’taking up precious time on your weekend.”

She hadn’t thought about anything that usually plagued her mind when she was doing something enjoyable. She didn’t think about her lesson plans, the wedding, nor Christmas gifts she wanted to start buying. The only thing she could think about was how nice her time with Harry was when he looked so handsome and couldn’t stop staring at her. “I’d rather be here,” she assured him.

He smiled. “Good.”

Before they went into the restaurant, she recognized her surroundings and offered her two cents. “There’s a really good ice cream place nearby if you want to get dessert after,” she said. “Since it’s fall, they have this apple sundae special that’s super yummy.”

Harry put a hand on the small of her back as he ushered her back to his car. “Y’have room for ice cream?”

She nodded. “I always have room for ice cream,” she grinned.

He chuckled. “Ice cream it is.” They sat inside the little shop eating their ice creams. Hers, the small apple sundae she spoke about, and his, a cup of mint chocolate chip with hot fudge. “This is really good ice cream,” he nodded taking another spoonful. She ginned to herself, watching a drip of hot fudge get stuck to the bottom of his chin.

She bit her lip and grabbed a napkin between them. “May I?” She asked reaching out to his face. He smirked and she dabbed his skin.

He grabbed her hand when she was finished, made her drop the napkin to the table and he scooped her hand into his and smirked. “You look like a whole bouquet, Bird,” he scanned her again.

A puddle. She was certain her insides turned to mush, and she was no longer solid but liquid on the floor of the ice cream shop. She felt so warm she thought the heat she was producing would melt her sundae into the puddle of her organs on the floor.

“A bouquet?” She questioned.

“Prettiest bouquet I’ve ever seen.”

“I think I’m going to melt,” she whispered.

“Y’can’t melt when I haven’t even kissed y’yet,” he didn’t move his eyes from hers. A small gasp escaped her lips. “M’going t’melt as well,” he squeezed her hand. “Thought ‘bout kissing you yesterday. Well, ‘ve actually been thinking ‘bout kissing you since I met you,” he admitted with a smirk. “But y’really gave me a scare on the roof,” he reminded her.

The sight of her up there in the rain, not knowing what to do, terrified him. When he yelled, he didn’t think about her reaction—didn’t think it would send her over the edge of her home and nearly fall. Cradling her, no matter how briefly, felt like heaven. Despite the circumstances. Regardless of if it was raining and at one in the morning. Even though his heart felt like it was in his throat and his stomach twisted with worry.

All Harry wanted to do was wrap her up in his arms, a blanket, anything, and hold her for as long as possible.

“Will you be kissing me when you drive me home?” She asked.

“Would that be okay?” He squeezed her hand.

Would it be okay if the hottest man she’d ever seen kissed her? Yeah. She’d be okay. She nodded. “Very okay.”

She felt her hands nearly shake as she opened the door. Harry stood a few feet away; his hands tucked into his pockets as he glanced around the front of her house. “The door sticks a little,” she warned.

“I could look at that,” he offered.

She gave it a little shove and pushed inside. Harry watched the skirt of her dress flutter with the movement, and she stepped into the doorway. Harry helped her get her coat off and hung up on her coat rack. “Do you want—”

Harry grabbed her by the hips, then turned her so her back was against the wall adjacent to the door that he kicked shut. He put his hand behind her head protectively as he pushed her. Once safely against the wall, he brought one hand to her face, the other on her waist. He gazed at her, his nose almost touching hers. His breath smelled like mint chocolate chip ice cream and hot fudge.

She hoped she smelled like apples and not pasta or garlic. “M’pretty bouquet,” he hummed and brushed the back of his finger along her cheek. He wasn’t kidding about melting. And he still hadn’t kissed her yet. But was she breathing heavy? Panting? Like she had run a marathon? She thought she might lose her mind a little if he prolonged this. “This was the best date of m’life,” he brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “Can we have another?” He asked.

She nodded. “Please,” she breathed.

He grinned, nodded to himself happily. “M’gonna kiss you now, kitten. M’gonna make y’melt,” he promised.

“I’m sure,” her voice was hardly anything more than a whisper.

He smiled, leaned the final inch in, and covered her lips with his. She thought she was going to be embarrassed and moan but instead Harry beat her to it. And it was anything but embarrassing. She breathed out as he moved his mouth over hers, applying the most perfect amount of pressure.

An expert at fixing desks, a roof, and kissing. She should have known. His hand tangled in the back of her hair and brought her closer to him. His lips were soft and firm. A tantalizing, oxymoronic pressure that made her feel like her legs were going to give out. She grabbed a fistful of the front of his shirt in each hand. He licked and nipped at her, deepening the kiss. The hand at her waist shifted south, rubbing her hip, her leg through the skirt of her dress.

Harry moaned again, pulled away and dropped his lips to her jaw and he kissed down toward her ear, moved to her throat and brushed his lips against her collarbone. “Mm,” he sighed. “So good, Bird. So, so good,” he whispered into her skin. “Can I?” He asked, his hands drifting further south.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly. “Anything you want.”

He chuckled quietly; the air tickled her skin as he did. Slowly, he dropped his hands to cup around the side of her thighs, still politely over her skirt. He groaned. “So pretty, m’pretty Bird,” he slowly lifted until she was off the floor, her legs wrapped around his waist. “Don’t want y’melting all over the floor,” he murmured into her neck.

She didn’t care that her skirt rode up her hips and her underwear was probably showing. She hoped she picked a cute pair; that Harry would like her even if she wore comfy underwear too. “Mmm,” her hands moved to his shoulders, the back of his neck pulling him closer and wishing he could sink deeper into his mouth, his body, everything. She pushed away from the wall, nearly grinding into him as she wrapped herself tightly around him. She moaned softly, Harry groaning again in response as he pushed her back against the wall, her leg hitting against the table inside the entry way. Immediately, her pretty flowers and vase toppled to the ground and shattered.

Harry pulled away and sighed. “S’what I get for trying t’make y’life easier,” he smirked, kissed her cheek. “I’ll clean it up.”

“I could give two fucks about that,” she told him, her lips only a breath away from his. “Keep kissing me,” she begged.

He laughed again, brushed his nose against hers, “M’at your service, Miss Bee,” he whispered before parting her lips with his again.

She felt like she was floating at work. The little ones were all very excited about Halloween, their sand-witch party and everything. She wasn’t on top of her game because all she could think about was the hot construction worker just a short walk away from her. Her eyes drifted to the window. She wouldn’t be able to see him of course, but just the thought of him got her melting all over again.

It was a miracle she could sleep after Harry left her. The smile on her sore lips—she hadn’t felt sore from kissing since… well… ever—her mind spun with hundreds of thoughts all about Harry. Not a single lesson nor a bridal shower game entered her brain last night. The only thing she could think about was Harry.

Good morning, Miss Bee

She woke up to the text as her alarm rang for six o’clock. The time stamp said that Harry had been up for at least an hour. Biting her lip, she texted back. Good morning ☀️

Sleep well? He asked almost instantly.

Her heart skipped a beat. Yes, you?

Hard falling asleep when yesterday was so nice 😍

Agreed 🥰 I gotta get ready. See you at recess, maybe? I’ll be wearing blue and a head or two taller than the little ones.

Can’t wait, bird.

However, now she couldn’t find him through the window, and she had a class to tend to. But her lips still felt sore, and she couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the kindergarteners in front of her. “Did we all have a good weekend?” She asked as they moved to the carpet for another installment of Charlotte’s Web.

“Miss Bee, I tolded my mom that I want to be a construction worker when I growed up.”

She giggled. “Told and grown, my love,” she reminded Kai sweetly. “Are you going to dress up like one on Wednesday for our party?”

He nodded. “Mr. Harry is bringing me a hat and a vest,” he explained.

“Is he now?” She smiled.

“Yes. I asked him at recess.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “That’s very nice of him. Maybe we’ll have to write him a thank you note, yeah?”

But she also thought she could thank him in other ways.

The kindergarteners didn’t need to know about that though.

Harry was sitting in a chair much too small for him. He happily cut up paper, glued, and drew with children that she loved so much.

Niall and he were eating sandwiches that were also much too small for them, and they still had a few hours of grueling work to do once they left the party.

But they didn’t bat an eye at the situation. They looked like they were enjoying themselves even. Every so often Niall would get up in his firefighter costume and inspect something amiss around her room, catching Harry’s eye. There was a nod from Harry, a silent conversation taking place about the problems in her room that he seemed to be keeping on a mental to-do list.

One thing that she noticed, it was really nice to have a few extra sets of hands in her room for the day. With twenty students using scissors and glue it was bound to get a little crazy.

“Miss Bee, Mr. Niall put four triangles on his pumpkin!” Janie said in excitement.

“No way!” She gasped.

Not that she didn’t believe Kai, but Harry did bring little hard hats and vests (with an Under Construction logo on the back) for the five students that said they wanted to be construction workers. He stopped by her classroom yesterday after school let out and he had a box in his hands and a sheepish smile on his lips. “I didn’t want t’be empty handed for the kids that aren’t planning t’be in the construction business.”

She blinked back tears as she inspected the package of vests and accessories of a variety of jobs. “Harry,” she said softly. “This is too much. It must have cos—”

“Probably a tenth of what y’spend on them in one year, bird. Don’t worry ‘bout it. ‘Ve spent m’money on a lot worse than the future,” he assured her.

She dropped the box between their feet and threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. He chuckled as he pushed the box out of the way with his foot and lifted her gently as he squeezed her back.

“Miss Bee, I think Mr. Harry needs help,” Niall said knowingly, teasingly, from his table where a little girl was helping Niall with the glitter that he wanted to add to his pumpkin. They both giggled conspiratorially. She snorted.

“I do not!” Harry glared at his friend then looked up at her with the most innocent, adorable face she had ever seen on a grown man. “Niall’s a tattle tale.”

“Yeah, and I don’t think Niall needed to tell on me,” Harry grumbled.

“Miss Bee says it’s only a need if it’s a matter of safety.”

“This is not a matter of safety,” Harry muttered bitterly.

She giggled, which made his whole body feel warm and he wondered how on earth he could be so obsessed with someone’s laugh after just a few short weeks. It felt like a bad day if he didn’t hear it. “Miss Bee, can I have the broom?” Amara asked. She tugged on Miss Bee’s costume, a tulle green skirt, a matching headband with two wire pieces that had big M&M’s bouncing from side to side, and a green M&M shirt. The class giggled at her when she changed into it (put it over top of her leggings and white sweater dress.

“Of course, thank you for being so thoughtful to keep your space clean, Amara,” she praised so the others could hear and hopefully help with clean up when the sand-witch party was over.

She went to the side of the room where she kept the cleaning supplies in a cabinet closet. However, when she pulled the door open it fell right off the old hinges. She yelped as it hit her foot and face at the same time. Her free hand went to her nose instinctively, and she lost her grip of it with her other hand but still tried to stop it as it toppled toward the tables.

The little ones screamed a bit dramatically, but Niall and Harry jumped right into action, grabbing it before it hit anyone else or caused any (more) damage.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked quickly, putting a hand on her hip innocently enough and scanning her from head to toe.

“Ah,” she shook her head and moved her hand to find that naturally she had given herself a nosebleed. “Fuck,” she whispered so no one could hear but Harry.

“We can fix it!” The little ones that had on their hard hats were ready to go to work with Niall and Harry even though they were dressed as ketchup and mustard.

“Oh Miss Bee! You’re bleeding!” DJ was dressed as a doctor, a stethoscope at the ready thanks to Harry’s kind gift.

She winced. It felt like defeat showing weakness. “I’m alright, my love. I just need to use the restroom to clean myself up.”

“I can help too!” Brayden said. He was dressed as a nurse, with a mask on his face ready to help out as well.

Harry crouched to the future medical professionals. “I think Miss Bee jus’ needs minute t’herself,” he whispered. “When she comes out, I bet she’ll let you look her over so y’can give her a clean bill of health,” he winked.

They both nodded with understanding and headed back to their tables. Harry grabbed a few tissues and ushered her back toward the bathroom. He wanted to close the door for the sake of her privacy and he really wanted to tend to her the way he wanted to, but he was sure that would look very bad in front of twenty, nosy kindergarteners who loved their adorable teacher.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly as she washed the blood off her hands and face while trying to maintain composure in front of the guy that she had a massive crush on while dressed like an M&M and a nose pouring blood like a faucet.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered.

He snorted. “For what? M’dressed as mustard,” he reminded her.

She smiled and winced at the pain it cause in her face. She shook her head. “The door landed on my foot,” she said. Harry crouched to the floor immediately. He took her ballet flat off like a reverse Cinderella and he still made her feel like princess. He brushed his fingers over her skin, and she hissed.

“S’a little scraped. We’ll have t’bandage y’up with your doctor and nurse,” he said from the ground while smiling up at her so cutely. A dumb, triangular cone on his head for his costume.

She already knew she was already falling hard for him, but she was almost certain she was going to tell a man dressed as a mustard bottle that she loved him in a kindergarten bathroom while she was wearing an M&M headband. She smiled again, holding a wad of tissues to her nose.

“Did it break y’nose?” He asked standing back up and skimming his fingertips along her cheek and tilting his head to get a better look to see if he missed some initial bruising.

She shook her head. “No… I just… I get nose bleeds very easily. I breathe too hard, and I start bleeding,” she sighed. “Sorry, that’s gross.”

“S’not gross, Bird,” he chuckled. “Jus’ making sure you’re alright.”

“I’m good. Thanks for getting me a minute to myself. We should probably go save Niall.”

“Niall’s fine, m’sure,” he promised. “If y’need another minute, I can go back out there with him.”

She wondered what the worst that could happen if she got caught kissing him during school hours.

“Mr. Harry,” fortunately they were interrupted by Milo before she could test any hypothesis. “Is Miss Bee going to die?”

He chuckled. “No, lad. M’thinking she’ll make it. We’re gonna check in with Dr. DJ and Nurse Brayden though,” he nodded and ushered the little one back toward the classroom. “Mr. Niall, y’think our little crew can help us repair the door?” He asked brightly. There was a chorus of cheers while she bit her lip.

“Miss Bee,” Zara whispered as she entered the classroom again. Zara was dressed as a baseball player which she loved more than most of the costumes she saw that day for a lot of different reasons. “Do you think you’re going to marry Mr. Harry?”

She smirked. “Are you trying to spread rumors about me, my love?” She asked with a giggle.

“No,” she giggled and put her hand on her mouth. “But I think you and Mr. Harry make a really cute couple. Like Lady and the Tramp or Delores and Mariano.”

She laughed. “Well, Mr. Harry and I are just friends,” she didn’t want the little ones knowing any of her private business when they were as involved with Harry as they currently were around the playground.

Niall returned from the outside entrance carrying a screw gun, a box of screws and few other items. “Guys and gals,” she moved over to where the group of five waited patiently with Harry and she crouched to their level. “Mr. Harry and Mr. Niall are being really nice to show you how to fix this. You have to listen to them very carefully. We’re not going to argue over who hands screws to them or ignore them if they say to let go or ask you to move out of the way, correct?” She eyed them seriously all in turn, all while keeping a tissue pressed to her nose.

“Yes, Miss Bee,” they sang in unison.

“They’re all yours, boys,” she gestured while standing up. “A good crew if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Thanks Miss Bee,” Niall pulled the trigger on the screw gun twice and Harry winked at her.

“Miss Bee can Brayden and me look you over now?”

“Brayden and I, my love,” she said gently with a nod. “Let’s go sit on the carpet, yeah?”

Harry smiled as she passed by him again brushing his hand along her back quickly and not even looking at her as he turned his attention back to Niall and his lesson of screw gun safety.

The sand-witch party was a huge success. She was already thinking of ways to make it better for the following year. Part of her was sad that Mr. Harry and Mr. Niall would likely be at a new job site. She wondered how that would change the dynamic of the party. Or if she was reading into it too much since it was a party for kindergarteners.

But once she got going it was hard to stop. There were so many learning targets she got to roll into one fun event. There were fine motor skills like gluing and using scissors, there was shapes, and prior to ketchup and mustard’s arrival, they wrote three sentences about the future career they had chosen and why they wanted it.

Harry and Niall said their goodbyes, took their pumpkins and some leftover sand-witches. “Who thinks the hexagon tasted best?” Niall asked as he bit into another one at the door. The class giggled at him, and they all shouted out their favorites and making a lot of noise while they waited expectantly for their departure. “Oops, sorry Miss Bee,” he said sheepishly.

She shrugged and smiled. “Zip it, lock it,” she said a little louder than normal.

“Put it in your pocket!” Then it was silent.

“That’s wicked,” Harry said almost dreamily. Niall snorted and hit his hand against Harry’s chest.

“Take it easy,” Niall muttered under his breath as he passed him to head back outside.

“All my friends love to thank Mr. Harry and Mr. Niall for coming to our party and hanging out with us!”

“Thank you!” The choir of six-year-olds cheered.

“See you later alligators,” Harry winked at them and waved as he and Niall stepped outside the room.

“In a while crocodile!” They all shouted back excitedly.

"Bye Miss Bird!" He practically cooed. He hoped the kids didn't notice but even if they did, he was having trouble caring.

“You’re an absolute goner,” Niall snickered as they headed back toward their job site. “Obsessed. In love,” he continued pulling the red ketchup hat cone off his head.

Harry smiled. “Mm, that obvious, hmm?”

Niall chuckled. “Think she’s a bit smitten too,” he said. “No one in their right mind would have sided with you about me being a tattle tale if they didn’t like you that much,” he reminded him and flicked his cheek before running ahead toward the jobsite again.

“You’re acting like a kindergartener!” Harry shouted.

“I know you are but what am I!?”

The remainder of the day was a little rowdy. Fun, learning got done, but she was very excited for the day to be over and very excited that there was a professional development day without her sugary students following Halloween night.

“See you all Friday!” She said cheerfully as her students scattered toward the busses and cars in the lot for pick up. She stood at her post outside where she always did, waving and grinning at former students, coworkers, and even a few parents as they tried to sneak out before the fleet of busses.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry at the fence, waving from afar, to those that knew who he was as well. “Miss Bee,” Milo tugged on her skirt as they all got ready for dismissal. She crouched next to him and smiled happily.

“Yes, my love? What can I do for you?”

“My uncle is picking me up today,” he smiled excitedly.

“Oh yeah? Is he taking you trick or treating?”

He nodded excitedly, his little construction hat bobbling back and forth. “Do you want to meet him?” He asked shyly.

“Of course, Milo,” she grinned. “I have to tell him what a great reader you’re becoming and how good you are at line leading,” she said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He took her hand and pulled her toward the exit. As they approached the end of the bus port, she had a better view of Harry. His coworkers booking it out before they got stuck behind busses but not him. She felt a smile twinge on her lips as she waved goodbye to other little ones that wanted her attention.

“Well, hello there.”

She nearly froze in her tracks. Her gaze snapped forward at the sound of his voice. Milo’s hand released hers and he launched himself forward at the man before her. “Careful of your shoes on my clothes, buddy,” he chuckled. “Funny seeing you here,” he ruffled Milo’s hair and winked at her.

“This is Miss Bee,” Milo introduced.

“Miss Bird, I thought,” he continued smiling at her. But it felt like she was watching a documentary of a safari. She felt like a gazelle completely at the disadvantage.

“Miss Bee is a nickname,” Milo explained.

She must have looked like a goldfish, her mouth opening and closing trying to find the words. A deer in headlights if there ever was one. “So you’re the famous Miss Bee,” he chuckled. Like it was a private joke that only he knew the punchline too.

For a moment, she forgot she was a teacher. A member of the town community with a reputation she needed to uphold. She wanted to run away. Or slap him across the face. Yank Milo out of his arms and take him home with her instead. There was no way she could let sweet, little Milo out trick-or-treating with the likes of his uncle. But instead, she mustered as much strength as she did when she wasn’t feeling well, when she was exhausted, or when her life outside the classroom was falling apart and she was expected to continue smiling in front of her little group of young minds. She plastered a smile on her face and pretended everything was fine as she finally spoke, “Evan.”

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deceasedream69 · 6 hours ago

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Why am I being attacked for? Lol

Seriously, you again, reading a fic about a person who doesn't even know you exist,OR WORST,doesn't even exist........same thing sis. Keep reading

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 2 days ago

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It Was Enchanting to Meet You

✨ summary: where y/n is on a girls trip and meets a man who belongs to the sea.

📝 word count: 11K

⚠️ content warning: mentions of alcohol

💌 support my work

The winding coastal road dipped and curved like a ribbon caught in the breeze, cutting through lemon groves and clusters of peach-colored houses. Y/N leaned her head against the window, eyes half-lidded, watching the glittering line where the sea met the sky. She could already taste the salt in the air, sticky on her lips.

“Okay, I call the room with the terrace,” someone announced from the backseat. It was probably Mia—loud, determined, already half-drunk from the mini bottles they’d smuggled onto the flight.

“You can’t call it before we even see it,” Y/N mumbled, but not loud enough to start a real argument. She was too tired for that.

They’d been planning this trip for months. A last-hurrah kind of thing. Or maybe a break from real life before the next chapter started—jobs, moves, breakups that hadn’t happened yet but probably would. A group of five, crammed into a rented van, their suitcases piled like Jenga blocks in the back.

When they pulled into the little town, it looked like a postcard: crumbling stone walls wrapped in vines, laundry fluttering between windows, the sea stretching out in every direction like a secret waiting to be told.

The villa was even better than the pictures. Sun-bleached and crooked, with arched windows and a path that led straight down to the rocks.

They spilled out onto the patio like kids let out of school.

“Okay, we need spritzes immediately,” said Jess, her sunglasses already pushed up into her hair.

Y/N smiled, but there was a thread of something pulling tight in her chest. That quiet, off-balance feeling. She chalked it up to jet lag.

Still, as her friends laughed and clinked glasses, she couldn’t stop staring at the water.

It looked too perfect. Like it knew something she didn’t.

The club pulsed with music so loud it felt like it was coming from inside her own chest. Colored lights flared overhead, cutting across the haze of bodies that moved together in a kind of careless rhythm. Someone handed Y/N a drink—maybe it was Mia, maybe it was someone they’d just met—and she took it without really thinking, the condensation slick against her fingers.

She had been dancing earlier. Laughing too. Letting herself get pulled into the swarm of heat and perfume and music. But now, sometime past midnight, something had shifted. Her limbs felt heavier. Her smile wasn’t coming as easily. The air inside the club had gone from electric to cloying, like all the oxygen had been used up.

Y/N leaned into Jess’s ear. “I think I’m gonna head back.”

Jess looked over her shoulder, mascara smudged just a little beneath one eye. “Already?”

“I’m just tired,” Y/N said with a small shrug. “I’ll see you back at the room?”

They exchanged a quick hug, followed by a round of half-sincere protests and cheek kisses from the others. No one seemed too bothered. They were deep in the glow of the night, tangled in stories they would half-forget by morning.

Outside, the air hit her like a blessing. It was cooler than she expected, the breeze coming off the water sharp enough to wake her up a little. The town was quieter now. Still, but not empty. She could hear laughter from somewhere down a side street, the low hum of scooters passing by in the distance, the clink of dishes being washed in someone’s open window.

Her heels clicked against the cobblestones as she walked, one hand lightly dragging along the old stucco walls. She should have gone straight back. She knew that. She had her key in her pocket and the villa was just a few turns away. Instead, her feet took her in the opposite direction—down a narrow path she vaguely remembered from earlier that week.

It led toward the water.

She told herself she just wanted to see the ocean. Just for a minute. She didn’t even take her shoes off at first, just stood there at the edge of the rocks with the wind threading through her hair. The moon was high and swollen, and the sea looked almost glassy beneath it. It was the kind of beautiful that made your heart feel too big for your chest.

She stepped out of her heels and left them neatly beside her. Her feet were bare against the cool stone as she picked her way down toward the flat shelf closest to the waterline. It wasn’t smart. She was a little tipsy, and the rocks were slick in places, but she moved carefully and kept her balance.

The sea moved in gentle laps below her, whispering things she couldn’t quite make out. She sat down, tucking her knees to her chest. Her dress slid around her thighs, light and wrinkled from the heat of the club. Her skin was still damp from dancing, and the breeze made her shiver.

For a long time, she didn��t think at all. She just breathed. Watched the stars. Let the stillness wrap around her like a secret.

And then she heard it. The soft ripple of water that wasn’t from the tide. A hush. A shift.

She turned her head slowly.

There, just a few meters out, was someone in the water.

At first, she thought she was imagining him. A shadowy figure half-submerged, reclining like the sea itself was a hammock. The moonlight caught his shoulders, slick and sculpted, and the faint curve of a smile on lips she could barely see.

He didn’t say anything. Just floated there, watching her.

Y/N blinked. “You’re real, right?”

The stranger gave a soft laugh. His voice was low, smooth, unmistakably British. “Suppose that depends on how much you’ve had to drink.”

She tilted her head. “Swimming this late?”

“Could ask you the same, love. Not exactly the safest time to be wanderin’ round out ‘ere.”

Her lips curved slightly. “I needed air. Too many people back there.”

“Mm. Know the feelin’.” His tone was easy. Warm, even. “Too many people everywhere, sometimes.”

The sea lapped quietly between them.

“I’m Y/N,” she said after a pause.

He smiled again. “Pleasure. Proper lovely name, that.”

He didn’t give his own. Not yet. She didn’t ask.

And somehow, that felt right.

Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see him more clearly.

His hair was dark and pushed back from his face, glinting wet beneath the moonlight. Drops of water slid lazily down his neck, catching against the lines of a tattoo on his collarbone. From this distance she couldn’t make it out, but there were more—one just under his shoulder, another curling along the top of his bicep. Ink that looked like it had always been there. Like it belonged.

His eyes—when she really looked at them—were green. Not the muddy kind. Bright, clean, sea-glass green. They sparkled, which sounded like a cliché, but there was no other word for it.

He was beautiful. That was the only word that fit.

They stayed like that for a moment, quiet but not awkward, just letting the air sit between them.

“So,” he said eventually, voice low and lilting. “How long you in town for?”

“A week,” she said. “We got here a couple days ago. I’m here with friends.”

“Ah. Bit of a girls’ holiday?”

“Something like that.” She rested her chin on her knee, watching the way his fingers skimmed lightly through the water. “What about you? Are you from here?”

He smiled like it was a joke she didn’t get. “Sort of.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s not really an answer.”

“S’alright,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “Most people aren’t lookin’ for proper answers anyway.”

“I might be,” she said.

That made him glance up at her again, a little more directly this time. “You always wander off from your friends in the middle of the night?”

“No,” she said, smiling despite herself. “Just felt like the water was calling me.”

“That happens, yeah.” His tone softened. “Sea’s good at that. Pulls you in before you even realise.”

“I’m from New York,” she offered, folding her arms loosely over her knees. “So this isn’t exactly… normal for me. Ocean that glows under the moon. Air that smells like lemons. Mysterious guys floating in the water.”

He chuckled. “Suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

They went quiet again. Not because there was nothing to say, but because there was no rush to say it. The waves brushed against the rocks with a hush-hush rhythm, and a soft wind lifted her hair off her shoulders.

“What do you do here?” she asked. “You live nearby?”

“Something like that,” he said again. His voice dipped a little lower, like the truth was balanced on the edge of his tongue. “Don’t really live the way most people do. I just… stay close.”

“Close to what?”

His smile returned, lazy and unreadable. “The sea.”

She nodded slowly. “You make it sound like a choice.”

He didn’t reply right away. Just looked at her for a moment, like he was trying to decide something.

Then he said, “What’s your hotel called?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Just wonderin’ if it’s near enough that you’ll come back.” His expression didn’t change, but his voice grew quieter. “Wouldn’t mind talkin’ again. S’not every day someone actually sees me.”

The way he said it sent a little chill up her spine.

“I’m staying in a villa up the hill,” she said. “With the orange shutters.”

“I know the one,” he murmured. “Come back tomorrow. If you want.”

She hesitated, just for a second. “You’ll be here?”

“’Course,” he said. “Where else would I be?”

The villa door creaked open around three in the morning.

Y/N was already in bed, though she hadn’t even tried to sleep. She lay on her side in the dark, sheets tangled around her legs, staring out through the slatted window where the moonlight still poured in, soft and silver.

She could hear the girls laughing even before they made it up the stairs—heels clacking, voices hushed but too loud anyway. A chorus of whispered swearing and giggles.

When the bedroom door eased open, Mia tiptoed in with all the subtlety of a marching band.

“You’re awake,” Jess whispered, even though she was already pulling off her earrings and tossing them into a little dish on the nightstand.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N said quietly, not moving from her spot. Her voice still felt distant in her throat.

They smelled like perfume and wine and something citrusy, like the bar had rubbed off on them.

“Babe,” Mia said, crawling onto the edge of her bed, “you left the club so early. What did you even do?”

Y/N hesitated. The words felt a little surreal now that she was back in the warmth of her sheets, with her friends laughing about shots and bad dancing. The moment down by the rocks felt like it belonged in a dream.

But she said it anyway.

“I met someone.”

There was a beat of silence. Then a sharp gasp. Then a flurry of movement as every girl in the room turned toward her like she’d just dropped a firework in the bed.

“You what?” Jess practically screeched, trying not to trip over her dress as she crossed to sit beside her.

Y/N sat up slowly. “Down by the water. He was just… there. In the ocean. We talked for a while.”

“In the ocean?” Mia blinked. “Like, swimming?”

“Yeah. Just sort of… floating. Watching the stars.” She shook her head a little, still not sure how to explain it. “He was really—he was something.”

“Oh my God, you can have a hot Italian hookup without even trying,” said Liv, flopping into the armchair with dramatic flair. “This is what I said would happen.”

“He had a British accent,” Y/N corrected, lips curling faintly.

Even that sounded unreal now. Like something out of a movie.

“That’s even better,” Jess said, nudging her with one elbow. “What’s his name?”

Y/N blinked. Her smile faded just a little. “I… never got it.”

“You didn’t get his name?” Mia flopped backward onto the bed like she couldn’t believe it.

“I was kind of distracted, alright?” Y/N said, laughing softly. “It didn’t come up.”

“He could be a Prince Harry type for all you know.”

“Maybe he’s famous,” Liv offered. “Or, like, a mysterious millionaire hiding from the public eye. A tortured soul who swims at night and writes poetry.”

“I think he just likes the ocean,” Y/N said. “He asked me to come back.”

“Oh you have to,” Jess said, no hesitation. “That’s fate. That’s, like, beach magic.”

“Summer romance,” Mia added with a dreamy sigh. “Follow it through. What if this is your Italian love story?”

“I told you,” Liv said smugly, pointing at her. “I said this trip would be your origin story.”

Y/N laughed again, but it faded quickly. Her heart still beat too loudly. Her hands were cold beneath the blankets.

She didn’t tell them how strange it had felt. How unreal. How she’d walked back barefoot through the sleeping town like she wasn’t even quite on the ground.

She didn’t tell them that when he smiled, it had made the air taste different.

She only said, “Yeah. Maybe I’ll go back.”

Even though she already knew she would.

The morning sun poured through the windows of the café, catching on the glasses of orange juice and the rim of Y/N’s coffee cup. The girls had picked a spot just off the main piazza—someplace with striped umbrellas and little potted herbs on the table. The kind of place that made everything feel like it could be part of a movie montage.

She stirred her cappuccino with the tip of her spoon, not really listening to the conversation. Across from her, Jess was flipping through a rack of postcards she’d picked up from the counter. Mia had already started bargaining with the waiter about the price of extra toast.

Y/N blinked slowly, sunlight warm on her shoulders.

“So…” Liv’s voice pulled her back. “Are you going?”

Y/N looked up. “Going?”

“Back to the water,” Jess added. “To find your mystery man.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said, sipping her coffee.

Mia snorted. “Liar. You’ve been staring at nothing since we sat down.”

“I’m just tired.”

“You’re enchanted,” Liv said, wiggling her fingers in the air like she was casting a spell. “Admit it.”

Y/N shrugged, trying not to smile. “It was just a conversation.”

“An ocean conversation,” Jess said. “With a hot stranger who came out of the sea like some kind of Greek god. Don’t undersell this.”

“You didn’t even get his name,” Mia reminded her. “That’s, like, the most romantic part.”

“Or the most suspicious,” Y/N replied, but there was no bite to it. She was still thinking about the way the moonlight had caught the curve of his cheek, the sound of his voice echoing softly over the tide.

“So what’s the plan?” Liv asked. “You gonna dress cute and walk barefoot into the sea again?”

“I was tipsy. It wasn’t a plan.”

“Tonight, it can be,” Mia said, already reaching for her phone. “We’ll help you pick something. Something mysterious but, like, effortlessly hot.”

“Maybe he’s a fisherman,” Jess said.

“He doesn’t live in town,” Y/N murmured, mostly to herself.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. He just… he said he doesn’t live the way most people do. It stuck with me.”

The table went quiet for a beat. Just the clink of cutlery and the buzz of a scooter passing in the street below.

“That’s kind of deep,” Liv said finally. “Maybe he’s like, an artist. Or a wanderer. Or some guy with too much money and not enough direction.”

“Or he lives in the sea,” Mia said, sipping her juice.

Y/N gave a soft laugh. She didn’t say what she was thinking.

The others left just after ten that night, their heels clicking across the tiled floor, perfume trailing in the air behind them. Mia paused in the doorway to blow Y/N a kiss.

“You’re making the biggest mistake,” she said. “Tonight is crawling with possibilities.”

“I’ve got mine,” Y/N replied with a small smile.

Jess gave a wink. “Text us if you get abducted by a shirtless fisherman.”

And then they were gone, their laughter echoing down the street, fading into the pulse of music and lights that wrapped around the coast like ribbon.

The villa was suddenly quiet.

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, towel around her hair, skin still warm from her shower. She moved slowly, not rushed, but deliberate. She pulled on a soft linen dress—simple, easy to slip off if she ended up near the water again. She left her shoes by the door. A cardigan hung loosely around her elbows as she stepped out into the warm night air.

The walk down to the rocks felt different this time.

The path was familiar now. She didn’t hesitate at the turns. Didn’t check her phone for directions. The town was asleep around her, shutters drawn, windows glowing soft with lamplight. It smelled like salt and citrus and old stone warmed by the day.

When she reached the shoreline, she paused. The moon was thinner tonight, a quiet sliver above her, and the water was darker without it.

She stepped carefully down to the flat shelf of rock and sat, legs tucked beneath her, dress fluttering slightly in the breeze. The sea moved lazily below her, the kind of calm that felt rehearsed. She scanned the surface, eyes straining against the dark.

Nothing.

Her hands fidgeted in her lap. The air was warm, but her fingers were cold.

She waited. For five minutes. Then ten.

Still nothing.

She told herself she’d only stay a little longer. That maybe he wasn’t real. Or maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe he’d been a passing moment, like a dream too good to be true.

She stood, brushing off the back of her dress, preparing to leave.

And then she heard it.

Water shifting. The soft shhhh of something surfacing.

“Thought you weren’t comin’,” a voice said behind her.

She turned.

He was there.

Resting against a low rock just off the shore, arms folded over the edge like he’d been waiting too. His hair was wet again, curling around his temples. The same tattoos danced along his collarbone, lit faintly by the low glow of the stars. His eyes met hers, sharp and unreadable, and his mouth lifted into a soft, crooked smile.

“I almost left,” she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice was too breathless.

“Glad you didn’t,” he murmured. “Would’ve been a bit tragic, wouldn’t it? Me, talkin’ to the sea all night.”

She stepped closer to the edge, her heart thudding hard enough to feel it in her throat. “I didn’t know if you’d be here.”

“Didn’t know if you would, either.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the silence thick but not uncomfortable.

“You look different,” he said, tilting his head. “New dress?”

She smiled. “You remembered what I wore?”

“’Course I did.” His voice softened. “Hard not to notice someone sittin’ at the edge of your world.”

She took a few steps closer, the breeze tugging at her hem. The rock shelf sloped down slightly toward the sea, and she stopped just before her toes would’ve touched the water. He didn’t move. Just watched her, eyes reflecting the shimmer of the waves like glass.

“You’re always here,” she said after a moment. “Every night. In the same spot.”

“S’cause I like it,” he replied, voice smooth and unhurried. “It’s quiet. People don’t tend to wander down here unless they’ve got somethin’ on their mind.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

His smile flickered, like a secret tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Somethin’ like that.”

She sat again, this time facing him, her feet just inches from the water’s edge. “You never did tell me where you’re from.”

He tilted his head. “And you never did ask my name.”

Her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t want to ruin it. You know. The mystery.”

“ S’ Harry,” he said quietly.

She blinked. “Harry?”

“Yeah.” He grinned a little. “Not quite as dramatic as you’d imagined, huh?”

“Honestly? I was betting on something Greek and tragic.”

He chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“You didn’t.” She said it too quickly, and then laughed. “I mean—you haven’t.”

They let the silence stretch again. The waves lapped gently at the rocks. Her dress fluttered softly against her legs. Somewhere up the hill, music played faintly—muffled bass and laughter drifting down from the clubs.

“What about you?” he asked. “You always sit out here alone in the middle of the night? Or is this a new hobby?”

She looked out at the water. “I guess I just like the quiet, too. Everything back there is always so loud. Like I’m supposed to be having the best time of my life, every second, or I’m doing something wrong.”

“And are you?”

“What?”

“Doin’ somethin’ wrong?”

She glanced at him. He was watching her closely now, not teasing, not amused—just listening.

“No,” she said finally. “I just think… sometimes it’s nice not to perform for a minute.”

He nodded like he understood that all too well.

Y/N hesitated. She hadn’t meant to ask. Not yet. But it slipped out before she could stop it.

“Why don’t you ever get out of the water?”

The question hung there between them.

His expression didn’t change right away. But she saw something flicker behind his eyes. Something quiet and careful.

“Would it change the way you see me?” he asked, voice softer now. Almost wary.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe.”

He was quiet for a long time. Then finally said, “Some things are easier to explain with distance. When you don’t have to look too close.”

She looked at him. Really looked.

“I want to look.”

That surprised him. She saw it in the way his mouth parted slightly, the way his body shifted just a little in the water.

“No one’s ever said that before,” he said.

“I’m not like most people,” she replied.

His smile returned—slow and full of something unspoken. “No, you’re not.”

Harry was quiet again.

Not the kind of quiet that meant he had nothing to say—but the kind that meant he was deciding something. Weighing it.

The sea moved around him, soft and steady, and the moonlight painted everything in pale silver-blue. Y/N’s heart was thudding hard, louder than the waves. She could feel something happening. Something about to change.

Then he asked, barely louder than the tide, “Can I trust you?”

She didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

His eyes searched hers for a long moment, like he was testing the truth of it.

Then he nodded once, slow. “Alright.”

He pushed back gently from the rock, gliding further into the water with almost no effort. The movement was fluid. Too fluid. There was something unnatural about the way his shoulders dipped, the way the current seemed to follow him like it knew him.

Y/N stayed still, her breath caught in her chest.

He didn’t go far. Just enough that the moon hit the water at the right angle. Enough that she could see.

A shimmer.

Not a trick of the light.

Not imagination.

His skin shifted just beneath the surface—no longer smooth, but scaled. Not like a costume. Not painted. Real. Soft iridescence that glowed faintly as he moved, like sunlight through deep water. And where his legs should’ve been, there was only the graceful arc of a long, tapered tail—sleek and powerful, the same deep green as his eyes.

She gasped, just a little. Not out of fear, but wonder.

He stilled, watching her. Waiting.

Y/N didn’t move away.

She leaned forward instead.

“Jesus,” she whispered. “You’re real.”

Harry’s voice came low across the water, rougher now, more human than ever. “Told you I don’t live like most people.”

She let out a shaky breath. “You weren’t kidding, you do live different.”

He smiled, just barely. “No one ever believes it ‘til they see.”

“I believe it.”

He tilted his head. “You scared?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Good,” he said. “Didn’t want to disappear just yet.”

“You can do that?”

“If I want to,” he said. “It’s easy, when no one’s lookin’. That’s the trick, isn’t it? Keep to the shadows. Don’t let ‘em see too much.”

“But you let me,” she said.

His eyes met hers. “Yeah. I did.”

And then, as if the moment were fragile, he slipped beneath the surface for just a second—scales vanishing, ripples blooming outward—and when he rose again, only his shoulders and head were visible. Just like before. Like it had never happened.

But she knew.

And she didn’t look away.

Y/N didn’t speak for a long moment.

She couldn’t. Her breath felt caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat, as though the air itself didn’t know what to do. The water between them moved slowly, curling in small, glassy waves. Harry was still, half-submerged, watching her with a softness that made her chest ache.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Can I touch you?”

His expression didn’t change at first. But his eyes brightened in the moonlight, and after a quiet beat, he nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said gently. “’Course you can.”

She moved slowly, sliding forward to the edge of the rocks, her knees grazing the rough stone. The hem of her dress lifted slightly with the breeze, but she barely noticed. Her focus was locked on him—on the space between them. On the surface of the water that rippled like silk.

She reached out.

Her hand hovered for a moment, uncertain.

Then she touched him—just beneath the water, fingertips brushing the place where skin gave way to something else. It was warm. Warmer than she expected. Smooth, almost like polished stone, but alive. The scales shimmered beneath her touch, soft and iridescent, shifting in color as he breathed.

Her fingers moved lightly, tracing a small curve near where his hip would’ve been.

He didn’t flinch.

Instead, he let out a breath—quiet, but real. Like he’d been waiting for this. Like her touch grounded him somehow.

“You’re not cold,” she said quietly.

“‘S the water,” he replied. “Keeps me steady. But your hand… feels different.”

“Different good?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Like I’m not just a thing someone imagined.”

She kept her hand there a moment longer, her thumb brushing gently across the delicate pattern of his skin.

Then, slowly, she let it drift back, her palm settling on the warm stone beside her.

“I don’t know what I thought you’d feel like,” she said. “But it wasn’t that.”

“What’d you expect? Slime?”

“Maybe.” She smiled. “Something less human.”

“Not all that different, really,” he murmured. “Underneath it all.”

Their eyes met again. The space between them felt smaller now. Closer. Charged.

“I’ve never shown anyone before,” he said softly. “No one’s seen me like that.”

“I’m glad you did,” she said.

And she meant it. Every word.

They sat in silence for a while, the hush of the ocean filling the space between them like breath.

Y/N’s fingers toyed with the edge of her dress where it draped over her knee, still damp from the sea spray. She glanced at him—not just at his face this time, but at everything. The curve of his shoulders, the small twitch of his jaw when he was thinking, the way the water moved around him like it belonged to him.

She wet her lips, hesitating. Then asked, gently, “Were you born like this?”

His gaze didn’t shift, but something in him stilled.

“No,” he said quietly.

She looked at him, waiting.

He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on a spot just beyond her. “Somethin’ happened.”

Her voice was softer now. “What happened?”

He dragged a hand through his wet hair, letting the water drip slowly back into the sea.

“It’s a long story,” he said, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell it. But then, almost to himself, he added, “But I don’t want to lie to you.”

She stayed quiet, giving him space.

He looked at her again. “Few years ago, I went swimmin’ off the coast. Nothin’ wild. Just a dive, y’know? I’ve always liked the water. Used to surf, snorkel… I grew up near it. Thought I knew it.”

She nodded.

“Got caught in a current I didn’t see comin’. Got dragged way off course. Thought I was gonna drown.” He paused. “But I didn’t. Someone—or somethin’—found me. Pulled me under instead of up.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, her breath caught. “What do you mean?”

“They didn’t kill me,” he said simply. “They… changed me.”

His voice cracked just slightly on the word.

“When I woke up, I wasn’t the same. Couldn’t breathe right unless I was in the water. Couldn’t walk properly on land anymore. And this—” he gestured toward where his body disappeared beneath the waves “—this didn’t come all at once. It started slow. Bit by bit.”

Y/N stared at him, stunned. Not afraid. Just quiet. The way you go quiet when someone tells you something too important to interrupt.

“Don’t know why they chose me,” he said. “Sometimes I think I wasn’t meant to survive it. Like maybe I wasn’t supposed to come back at all. And this… this is just what was left.”

She swallowed. “You did come back.”

He gave her a tired smile. “Sort of.”

“You’re still you.”

“Maybe.” He looked down at the water. “But I’m not who I used to be.”

Y/N reached out again—this time not to touch the strange, shimmering part of him, but his arm. His shoulder. Warm and solid and real beneath her hand.

“I don’t think you lost anything,” she said quietly. “I think you became something more.”

He looked up at her then, his eyes soft, shining faintly in the moonlight.

“Y’know,” he said, voice a little rough, “no one’s ever said that to me.”

She smiled. “Well. Someone should’ve.”

Y/N’s hand was still resting lightly on his shoulder, her fingers half-curled in the damp warmth of his skin. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been sitting like this—time felt different here. Stretched out. Slow.

She tilted her head. “Do you miss it?”

His brows pulled together slightly. “Miss what?”

“Having legs. Being on land. Walking around without… you know.” She gestured vaguely at the water. “Fish stuff.”

He let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh. “Yeah. Sometimes. I mean, it’s not like I’ve forgotten what it feels like.”

She looked at him, curious. “You remember it?”

“Course I do,” he said, dragging one hand back through his hair. “Still have ‘em, actually.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Me legs,” he said. “Still there. Just—different when I’m in the water.”

Her head tilted further. “You’re saying… you can walk on land?”

He nodded. “If I’m completely dry. No water. Not even a drop.”

She stared at him. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“That’s insane.”

He smiled. “It’s a bit inconvenient, yeah. If it rains or I get splashed, it starts changin’ back. It’s not exactly subtle, either. Hurts like hell sometimes.”

Her jaw dropped. “So you’re telling me… you’re like… just like the girls from H2O: Just Add Water?”

He blinked. “What?”

She laughed, the sound breaking through the quiet like the first crack of sunlight. “It’s this ridiculous teen show from the 2000s. These Australian girls get turned into mermaids and anytime they touch water—even a sink, or like, a drink—they transform.”

Harry stared at her for a second. Then he started laughing too, the sound low and warm and surprised. “Never seen it.”

“You’re living it.”

“I’m a real-life teen drama, am I?”

She grinned. “Honestly, yeah. You’re giving very much moody sea prince with a tragic backstory.”

He smirked. “You sayin’ I’m dramatic?”

“I’m saying if you ever cry in the rain, you’re gonna grow a tail and it’ll be so embarrassing.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re mental.”

“And you’re magic,” she said, teasing, but her voice softened at the end.

They sat in the stillness that followed, her words floating between them like a dare or a promise. His smile faded, not because he was upset, but because he was looking at her in that way again—like she was something rare.

The wind had shifted slightly, cooler now, whispering across the surface of the sea like a lullaby.

Harry stretched his arms across the rock, resting his chin on them as he looked up at her. His hair had begun to dry in places, curling slightly at the edges. The shimmer of his scales had dulled just enough to blend back into the dark water.

“You should go,” he said gently. “It’s late.”

Y/N didn’t move at first. She didn’t want to. She wanted to stay perched on the edge of the rocks, watching the sea breathe in and out around him. But she knew he was right.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I should.”

She pushed herself to her feet, brushing her hands on her dress. Before she turned to leave, she looked back at him.

“Will I see you again?”

Harry smiled like it was the easiest promise in the world. “’Course. I’m just a short walk to the beach away.”

Her lips curved, and she nodded once. “Okay.”

He dipped lower into the water, resting with his chin barely above the surface. “Sleep well, love.”

She murmured a goodnight, then picked her way carefully back across the rocks, shoes in hand.

The walk through town was quiet and slow. The kind of stillness that made everything feel suspended, like the night had paused just for her. Her dress clung to her calves, damp from sea spray. Her heart was still thudding with the weight of it all—what she’d seen, what he’d said, what she still didn’t understand.

When she crept into the villa, the lights were dim, but the girls weren’t asleep.

Jess was sitting cross-legged on the bed, hair tied up and a half-eaten bag of chips beside her. Liv and Mia looked up from the other room, where they were curled up watching something on someone’s laptop.

“There she is,” Mia said, voice raised in a soft tease. “The moonlit wanderer returns.”

Jess grinned. “So? Spill.”

Y/N slipped out of her cardigan and hung it on the back of a chair. “Not much to spill.”

“Liar,” Jess said immediately.

“Okay, fine. We hung out on the beach. Talked. That’s it.”

Mia groaned. “That’s it? No mysterious kisses? No wild late-night skinny dipping?”

“Nope,” Y/N said, popping the “p” as she sat at the edge of her bed. “Just… talked.”

They all stared at her, waiting for more. But when she didn’t add anything, Jess sighed dramatically and flopped backward. “Ugh. You’re impossible.”

“Was it at least romantic?” Liv asked, more softly.

Y/N smiled to herself. Not for them. For her. For the memory that only she got to keep.

“Yeah,” she said. “It kind of was.”

They didn’t push further. Within ten minutes, the lights were off and the soft sound of sleep began to settle over the room.

But Y/N stayed awake just a little longer.

Lying still.

Listening to the distant hush of the ocean.

And wondering if, right now, he was still out there, floating beneath the stars.

The next day passed in a blur of sunshine and distraction.

They went to a market in the morning—baskets of peaches and figs and handwoven straw bags, the kind of place that smelled like sun-warmed fruit and fresh bread. The girls tried on linen dresses and wide-brimmed hats, made each other laugh over bad Italian, and spent too long deciding where to have lunch.

Y/N smiled when she was supposed to. Laughed when it made sense. But her mind was somewhere else entirely.

She kept thinking about the way his skin shimmered under the moonlight. The way he looked at her like she was something worth waiting for. The soft sound of his voice, how real it had felt when he said she could trust him.

She told herself she wasn’t watching the clock—but when golden hour hit, she already knew what she was going to do.

When the others dressed for another night out, she stayed behind again. No excuses this time. No teasing. They didn’t even ask. They were half caught in their own night, half aware of something they couldn’t name.

She waited until the house went quiet, then got up and changed.

This time, she brought a blanket with her.

The walk to the shore felt different. She wasn’t nervous. Not anymore. She just… needed to see him.

The sea was darker tonight. Still, but deep. The kind of water that seemed to hold its breath.

She stepped onto the rocks and spread the blanket across her usual spot, smoothing it with one hand before sitting down. Her legs crossed, back straight, hair pulled over one shoulder. She waited.

And he came.

Not suddenly. Not loudly. Just the quiet dip of water, the soft ripple that announced him without needing to.

Harry surfaced a few yards out, the glow of the moon catching in his eyes as he turned toward her.

“You came back,” he said, like he hadn’t been sure.

“So did you,” she replied.

He swam in closer, arms folding easily over a smooth rock just beneath the surface. His hair was wet again, curling along his forehead.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d get bored of me,” he said.

“Not likely.”

His lips curved. “You brought a blanket.”

“Thought I’d stay awhile.”

“I like that,” he murmured. “Like the idea of you waitin’.”

They fell quiet for a moment. The kind of quiet that didn’t feel empty.

She watched the sea curl gently around his shoulders. He watched the way her fingers played with the edge of the blanket, like she didn’t quite know what to do with her hands.

She wanted to ask more questions.

He wanted to say more than he knew how to.

But neither of them did.

Not yet.

Instead, she asked, “Do you get tired?”

He blinked. “Tired?”

“Like… physically. Do you sleep?”

“Not the way you do,” he said. “I sort of drift. Don’t need much.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re always floating.”

“Always waiting,” he corrected. “For something to pull me in.”

Their eyes met across the space.

She didn’t move. Neither did he.

The tension was quiet, but it was there—thin as thread, stretched between them.

“I should bring you something next time,” she said softly.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Something from up there. Just to… see you with it.”

He smiled. “You want to make me real.”

“I think you already are,” she whispered.

His expression shifted, softer now. More exposed.

“You’re not like the others,” he said.

“I know.”

They stayed there until the moon slid further up the sky and the breeze turned cool.

When she finally stood, he didn’t try to stop her.

He only said, “I’ll be here.”

And she said, “I know.”

The following night the sea was calm again. Like it was holding its breath with them.

Y/N stood barefoot at the edge of the rocks, the blanket she’d brought still folded at her side, forgotten. Her dress moved gently in the breeze, the hem brushing against her calves. She had one arm crossed over her stomach, the other hanging loose by her side. Her body was still, but there was something in her posture—something wound tight, like she was bracing herself for something she couldn’t name.

Harry floated just a few feet away, chin resting on his arms where they draped over a rock slick with seawater. He looked up at her with that same quiet focus, the kind that made everything else blur out of view.

She hadn’t said much yet.

Neither had he.

The silence between them had grown comfortable—familiar in that way only late-night conversations could be.

Then, without looking directly at him, she said quietly, “I have to go home in two days.”

The words sat heavy in the air between them. The kind of sentence that didn’t need to be explained. It already felt like goodbye.

Harry didn’t respond right away. His eyes stayed on her face.

“Right,” he said eventually, his voice soft but steady. “That’s… not long.”

She nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon. The sea was endless and quiet, like it was listening too.

“Back to New York, then?”

“Yeah. Work. Life. Whatever that means now.”

He gave a small, sad smile. “I’ll miss seein’ you up there. Your little shadow comin’ down the rocks every night.”

She looked down at him. “I’ll miss you too.”

He shifted slightly in the water, pushing himself up just a bit so more of his chest rose above the surface. The moonlight caught on the curve of his shoulder, glinting off the faint lines of his tattoos.

“I’ll remember you,” he said. “Promise I will. And if you ever come back—whether it’s next year or when you’re eighty—I’ll be here.”

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat.

“That’s the thing,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to go.”

His expression flickered—just a brief crack in that calm exterior.

“I know,” he said. “But you’ve got a life up there. And I’ve got this.”

“I know.”

Her hands curled slightly at her sides.

“But when I’m with you,” she said, “it feels like maybe… that other life doesn’t have to be everything. Like there’s something else waiting. Something quieter.”

Harry didn’t speak right away. He just looked at her, really looked, like he was memorizing her face.

And then he said, gently, “Then maybe you don’t have to go.”

Her heart stopped.

She looked at him, startled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… what if you stayed?”

Y/N stood above him, arms crossed over her chest, her weight shifting slightly as the wind came in off the water. She didn’t know why it felt so hard to say, but the words pressed at her until she finally let them out.

“Would you ever come on land?”

Harry didn’t answer right away. His eyes were on hers, steady and unflinching, but softer than she’d ever seen them. Like he understood exactly what she was asking—even if she hadn’t said all of it.

“For you?” he said, voice quiet. “I’d try.”

Something in her chest pulled tight.

He kept going, the words careful but certain. “I’m not sayin’ I could do it now. Or tomorrow. But if it ever came to that—if you asked—I’d try. I’d want to.”

Her throat felt dry. “Even if it’s dangerous?”

His smile was faint, almost sad. “I’ve already done riskier things than walkin’.”

They both went quiet, the sea lapping gently against the rocks.

“I’m not asking you to,” she said after a while. “Not right now.”

“I know,” he replied. “But I wanted you to know ‘s in me. That I’d try. If it ever mattered enough.”

Her gaze dropped to the dark, glistening water. “It matters now.”

“I know that too.”

There was a stillness between them. A quiet acknowledgment of everything they weren’t saying.

Then Harry added, “If you ever came back… if things were different… I’d meet you halfway.”

Y/N looked down at him again, at the way the moonlight touched his face. She wanted to memorize it. She was already trying.

“I’m not ready to leave yet,” she said softly.

“Good,” he murmured. “Neither am I.”

Y/N didn’t move. She just stood there, looking down at him, her heart beating in that slow, aching rhythm that only came when you knew a moment was about to become a memory.

Harry’s eyes never left hers.

Neither of them said anything for a while. The silence felt thick with everything unspoken.

Then, softly, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Her breath caught.

It wasn’t said like a line or a dare. It wasn’t cocky or dramatic. It was quiet. Honest. Almost careful.

She didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him—really looked. At the drops of seawater clinging to his hair. At the slope of his bare shoulders. At the way his mouth had gone still, like he was afraid she might say no.

She stepped a little closer to the edge of the rocks.

“Yes,” she said. Barely a whisper. “Please.”

He moved slowly.

Pulled himself up just a little higher against the stone, close enough now that she could see every detail of him. His hands stayed braced against the rock, careful not to touch her until she leaned down, until her fingers brushed the back of his neck, and she met him there—half in the sea, half in the air.

The kiss wasn’t rushed.

It was soft at first. Gentle. Just the press of his mouth against hers, salt-sweet and warm.

But then something shifted.

His hand came up to her hip, wet and sure, anchoring her. Her fingers curled at the nape of his neck. And the kiss deepened—slow, lingering, full of all the things they hadn’t dared to say aloud.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads stayed close. Breathing together. Caught in it.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first night, love,” he said quietly.

She smiled, still dizzy from him. “Took you long enough.”

Harry’s hand lingered at her waist for a moment after the kiss broke, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her dress.

Then he pulled back just enough to look up at her, eyes still a little dazed, like he was trying to memorize the way she looked right now—flushed and breathless, moonlight tangled in her hair.

“You should get back to your friends,” he said quietly. “Enjoy your night while ‘s still yours.”

Y/N nodded, but she didn’t move right away. Part of her wanted to stay. To curl up right there on the rocks and never leave.

But he was right. The night was slipping away.

She took a step back, then another, until she was off the stone shelf and back on the narrow path that led toward town. She didn’t look over her shoulder—not at first.

But just before the curve of the path would take him out of sight, she turned.

He was still there, half in the water, chin resting on his arms, watching her like he’d never stopped.

“Harry?” she called out gently.

“Yeah?”

She paused. The question had been floating at the edge of her mind for days, but now it rose to the surface, clear and steady.

“If I had more time… do you think this could’ve been something real?”

He didn’t answer right away.

The waves brushed quietly around him.

Then, softly—“It already is.”

She held his gaze for one long, still moment.

Then she nodded, her throat tight, and turned back toward the hills—carrying his answer with her.

The villa was dark when she got back.

Y/N stepped in quietly, the door creaking softly behind her. The main room was empty—no music playing, no half-finished drinks on the table, no giggles echoing down the hall. Just the faint smell of perfume and lemon soap lingering in the air.

She flicked on the small lamp by the entryway and glanced around.

Empty.

She pulled out her phone and texted the group chat.

where are you guys?

It only took a few seconds for Jess to reply.

Bar by the steps—where we got those shots the first night. Come meet us 💃

Y/N stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering.

Then she smiled, changed quickly into something clean and simple—just jeans and the soft linen tank she loved—and headed back out.

The bar was a low-lit spot tucked into a corner where the street dipped steeply down toward the sea. Fairy lights hung from the beams, and music floated out through the open doors—something upbeat and familiar. She spotted them immediately: Jess waving wildly, Mia with a spritz in one hand, Liv already halfway through a story.

“There she is!” Mia shouted, grinning. “We thought you’d eloped with a fisherman.”

“She glows,” Liv said, pointing at her like she was an exhibit. “That’s post-kiss energy if I’ve ever seen it.”

Y/N laughed as she slid into the booth beside them. “I’m literally just walking.”

“Walking back from where, though,” Jess said, narrowing her eyes. “And don’t even try to lie. You’ve got that ‘someone held my face and looked at me like I matter’ look.”

Mia leaned in. “Did you finally get his number?”

Y/N giggled, shaking her head. “It’s not like that.”

They all groaned in unison.

“Come on,” Liv whined. “You’ve been sneaking off to the water like it’s The Little Mermaid and you’re telling me it’s not like that?”

She bit her lip, still smiling. “It’s just… different, okay?”

Jess squinted at her. “Different good?”

Y/N looked down at the table, cheeks still warm, and gave the smallest, most genuine nod.

“Yeah,” she said. “Different really good.”

The final day felt heavier than the others.

The sun still warmed the stones beneath her feet, and the scent of salt and lemons still hung in the air, but everything around her felt like it was slipping away. The kind of beauty that couldn’t be held, no matter how tightly she tried.

Her friends were packing. Folding dresses back into suitcases, swearing about lost chargers, asking for just one more round of drinks before the night was over.

Y/N nodded. Smiled where she needed to.

But her heart was somewhere else entirely.

She waited until the sky was bruised with stars before slipping out of the villa for the last time. Her bag was light. She carried only one thing with her.

When she reached the shore, Harry was already there, half-floating, his arms resting on the same smooth rock where they’d met again and again.

He looked up when he heard her footsteps.

“There she is,” he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Thought maybe you’d be off celebratin’.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing left to celebrate but this.”

He didn’t tease her for it. Just nodded like he understood.

She knelt at the edge of the rock, reached into her bag, and held something out to him—a small silver chain with a charm shaped like a wave.

“Here,” she said. “It’s stupid, but… I wanted you to have something.”

He took it gently, water slipping from his fingers as he turned it over in his palm.

“S’not stupid,” he said. “It’s lovely.”

“I wanted you to have a piece of me,” she said quietly. “Something that doesn’t sink.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at her in that steady way he always did—like her being there was enough.

Then, softly, “Can I do somethin’?”

She nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”

A small smile. “Do you mind gettin’ wet?”

She let out a breath of a laugh. “Not if it’s you pulling me in.”

“Alright then.”

With one smooth motion, he reached up, hands firm and sure at her waist, and lifted her off the rock. Her breath caught as she slid into the water, her dress floating around her like petals. The sea was cool, but he was warm, his arms steady around her, holding her against his chest.

She wrapped her arms around his neck instinctively, her fingers threading into the damp curls at the base of his skull. He didn’t speak, and neither did she, not at first.

She let her hands trail down the curve of his shoulder, fingertips grazing over the ink that marked his skin—small details she hadn’t noticed before. A star. A bird. A phrase she couldn’t quite read, half hidden beneath the surface.

“You’re covered in stories,” she whispered.

He looked at her, his voice low and soft. “Yeah, well. Some things are easier to remember when they’re part of you.”

She didn’t ask what they meant.

She just held onto him tighter.

And he let her.

The water rocked them gently, their bodies moving as one. She leaned her head into the crook of his neck, closed her eyes, and breathed him in—salt and warmth and something that felt like belonging.

He kissed her temple.

And neither of them said goodbye.

Not yet.

Harry held her for a long time.

The sea moved gently around them, barely more than a ripple, like it was cradling them too. His arms stayed wrapped around her waist, her chest pressed to his, and every so often he would shift slightly—just enough to rock her in the water, slow and rhythmic, like they had all the time in the world.

Her head rested against his shoulder. One of his hands traced light, absentminded circles at the small of her back. The sky stretched out above them, dark and endless, stars blinking quietly in their places.

Neither of them spoke.

Because there was nothing left to say that wouldn’t break something open.

Eventually, though, the weight of time began to press in.

Harry’s breath deepened, and he shifted his hold, pulling her just slightly closer one last time.

“Alright,” he said softly. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

Y/N didn’t answer, but she nodded against him. She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want this to end. But she felt it too—that subtle turning of the world, nudging her back toward the life waiting for her on shore.

He carried her gently through the water, one hand at her back, the other beneath her knees, and lifted her with ease onto the smooth, flat rock where she’d first met him. Her dress clung to her skin, heavy with saltwater, hair slicked down her back. She looked at him like she wanted to memorize him all over again.

Harry stayed waist-deep in the sea, the water lapping at his chest.

Then, wordlessly, he reached beneath the surface and pulled something from the shadows of the tide.

He brought it to her palm, dripping and glowing faintly in the moonlight—a pearl.

But not just any pearl.

It shimmered like oil and light had been trapped inside it, gleaming with soft blues, purples, and greens that shifted with every movement. It was smooth and impossibly round, no bigger than a marble, but heavier than it looked.

“For you,” he said. “To remember me.”

Her fingers closed around it slowly.

Her throat ached.

“Is it real?” she whispered.

He gave her that small, lopsided smile she’d come to know. “As real as I am.”

She nodded once, too full to speak.

He didn’t ask her to stay.

She didn’t ask him to follow.

But as she slipped the pearl into her bag and rose to her feet, she knew she would carry it forever. Not just in her pocket.

In her chest.

Where the ocean had settled.

And when she turned to look back, he was still there—half in the water, eyes on her, lit by nothing but stars and memory.

She didn’t say goodbye.

Because this wasn’t goodbye.

Not really.

The plane took off just after sunrise.

Y/N sat by the window, forehead resting against the cool glass, eyes fixed on the fading coastline below. The water was still visible in the distance, blue and endless, stretching far beyond what she could see—but not far enough to reach him.

She didn’t cry.

She thought maybe she would. Thought maybe the grief of it would hit her like a wave. But instead it settled deep in her chest, still and silent. A weight.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the small pocket in her bag where the pearl was tucked. She hadn’t let go of it since he placed it in her hand.

Jess leaned over from the middle seat, gently bumping her shoulder. “You okay?”

Y/N gave the smallest nod.

Mia, across the aisle, chimed in with a hopeful grin. “You’ll find another hottie. We’ll plan a girls’ trip to Croatia next summer. Who knows, maybe a sexy bartender or a guy with a boat.”

Y/N smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Not even close.

She didn’t want another “hottie.” She didn’t want boat guys or flirty bartenders or anyone who didn’t make the ocean feel like it belonged to them.

She wanted him. She wanted Harry.

The plane lifted higher. The sea disappeared beneath clouds.

By the time she landed in New York, the ache had settled so deep in her that she couldn’t tell where it ended.

Her apartment felt smaller than she remembered. Colder.

She dropped her bag at the door and didn’t bother unpacking. Just stood there for a minute, staring at the window, at the buildings stacked close together, grey and humming with life she didn’t feel part of.

Everything looked the same.

And yet none of it felt right.

The pearl was still in her hand.

She clenched it tight and let the weight of it ground her, even as the world kept moving.

And for the first time, she wondered if she had made the wrong choice.

The weeks crawled.

At first, Y/N told herself it was just post-vacation blues. That eventually she’d slip back into her routine—commuting, iced coffee, emails, dinner plans. That the weight in her chest would lift once the glow of Italy wore off.

But it didn’t.

It settled in deeper.

She sat at her desk each day staring at the same blinking cursor, the same pile of untouched emails. Nothing moved her. Nothing interested her. The days passed in soft, grey silence. Her apartment, once warm and familiar, now felt like a shell. She stopped making her bed. Stopped buying flowers. She wore the same cardigan three days in a row and didn’t care.

And every night, she’d sit by the window with the pearl in her hand.

Rolling it gently between her fingers, watching it catch the light.

Some nights she’d cry. Other nights she wouldn’t feel anything at all.

It wasn’t just that she missed him.

She missed herself—with him. The way the world had felt slower. Softer. Like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

One night, two and a half weeks after she returned, she opened her laptop. Typed in the name of the coastal town she still dreamt about. Clicked through photos like she was trying to reach through the screen.

Then, without thinking, she searched flights to Naples.

She stared at the dates.

Then switched to one way.

Her finger hovered over the trackpad. And then, very simply—she clicked.

Booked.

Just like that.

She didn’t know what she’d do once she got there. Where she’d stay long term. How long she’d be gone.

But she knew one thing.

She had to go back.

She told her friends over dinner that weekend.

They’d gathered at their usual spot—a cozy wine bar with candles and flatbread and the same playlist humming softly overhead. Jess ordered a bottle of red. Liv was already halfway into a story about a guy she’d matched with twice by accident.

Y/N hadn’t said much.

When the food came, she cleared her throat.

“I’m moving,” she said, her voice steady.

Four sets of eyes turned toward her.

Jess blinked. “Wait, what?”

Mia laughed. “Where? You’re not serious.”

“I booked a flight back to Italy,” Y/N said. “One way.”

The table went quiet.

“Wait… like back back?” Liv asked. “To the beach? To—him?”

She nodded.

Jess leaned forward, brow furrowed. “Are you going to live there?”

“I think so,” Y/N said. “I sold the apartment. I gave my notice at work yesterday.”

“You—” Mia gaped. “You what?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she continued, gently. “If I’ll be back.”

They all stared at her for a moment like they were waiting for the punchline.

Then Jess exhaled, slow. “You’re really doing this.”

“Yeah.”

“And this isn’t just… like, a dramatic phase?” Mia asked, but her voice wasn’t cruel. Just scared. “You’re really leaving us?”

“I’m not leaving you.” Y/N’s voice cracked slightly. “I just… I can’t be here anymore. Not the way I was.”

Liv looked at her, softer now. “Is it because of him?”

Y/N smiled a little, but it was sad. “It’s because of me. Because of how I felt there. Because I woke up every day and I felt things. I haven’t felt anything real since I came home. Not until I booked that ticket.”

Silence hung over the table for a beat too long.

Then Jess reached across, placing her hand gently over Y/N’s.

“Okay,” she said. “Then we’ll help you pack.”

Mia sniffed. “Can I cry now or later?”

“Now,” Liv whispered, wiping under one eye. “Now’s okay.”

They all leaned in, four hands tangling over hers, and Y/N let herself feel it—the grief, the relief, the terror, the hope.

Because something was waiting for her across the sea.

And for once in her life, she was ready to swim toward it.

The apartment was small. Barely two rooms. The kitchen sink dripped, and the bed was too firm, and the walls were the color of eggshells left too long in the sun. But it had a window that looked toward the water, and when the breeze rolled in, it smelled like salt and rosemary.

She loved it.

The woman who rented it to her spoke quick, kind Italian and gave her a basket of lemons on the first day. Y/N didn’t know all the words yet, but she understood enough to feel welcome.

The job came a week later—flower shop tucked between a gelato stand and a bookstore with dust on its windows. The owner was an older woman with a sharp sense of humor and hands that moved fast even when she was trying to slow down. She taught Y/N the names of each bloom in both Italian and English, correcting her gently and laughing when she mixed them up.

It was simple work. Honest.

In the mornings, she swept petals from the stone floor and arranged sun-wilted roses in buckets. She wiped chalk from her fingers and tied ribbon bows, and let the scent of peonies and jasmine cling to her hair.

And at night—after the shop closed, after the streets quieted and the sky turned to ink—she walked down to the water.

The first night, her heart raced.

She wore the same cardigan she’d had with her the night he kissed her, and she carried the pearl in her pocket like it might anchor her to the memory. The tide was low, the moon soft above, and the sea stretched out like it was holding its breath.

But he wasn’t there.

She sat on the rocks for over an hour, fingers curled around her knees, waiting.

Nothing.

The second night was colder.

She brought a blanket this time. Made tea in a travel cup. Watched the waves move like they might remember her. Still, no sign of him. Not even a ripple. Not even a shadow.

The third night, she didn’t bring anything.

Just herself.

She didn’t sit.

She didn’t wait long.

She just stood at the edge of the rocks, wind tugging at her dress, and whispered, “Where are you?”

No answer.

No shimmer in the water.

No voice calling her name.

When she got back to her apartment, she didn’t cry. Not really. She just sat at the foot of her bed, shoes still on, and stared out the window toward the sea.

She’d left everything behind.

And now she wasn’t sure if she’d made a mistake.

Days passed. Then weeks.

And he didn’t come.

Y/N kept going to the shore, but not every night. At first she told herself it was to give him space, that maybe he needed time like she had. But eventually, it became about protecting herself. Hope could only take so many beatings before it started to bruise.

She still worked at the flower shop.

She got better at tying bouquets with one hand, and she learned the names of the neighborhood cats that wandered past the door. The shop owner began letting her open some mornings, and she found she liked the quiet of arranging flowers before the town was fully awake.

People came to recognize her. A man with a straw hat who always bought violets for his wife. A little girl who asked every Saturday for “something yellow.” Y/N smiled more. She spoke enough Italian to get by now. Enough to be understood.

But still, the evenings felt like waiting rooms.

Sometimes she walked along the beach instead of sitting on the rocks. Sometimes she just watched the water from her window. The pearl stayed on her nightstand, but she no longer touched it every night. It had started to feel like a souvenir instead of a promise.

She told herself she could live like this. That the ocean alone was enough.

And slowly, it started to feel like maybe it was.

But the dull ache never really left.

It just folded itself into her days—quiet and patient, like the tide.

Then, one night, something changed.

It wasn’t a dramatic moment. No crashing wave, no voice echoing her name across the water. It was subtle. Almost missable.

She was walking home from the shop. The sun had just dipped below the hills, and she decided to take the long way along the shore. She didn’t expect anything. She hadn’t expected anything for a long time.

But when she reached the familiar rocks, she paused.

Something felt… different.

The air smelled sharper. The waves sounded slower.

And there—just barely—was a shimmer.

Not light.

Not movement.

But something.

Something waiting.

She stood perfectly still, heart in her throat.

But she didn’t run to the edge. Didn’t call his name.

She just breathed.

And for the first time in weeks, the ocean felt like it was breathing back.

She stood at the edge of the rocks, her sandals dangling from one hand, toes sinking into the cool sand.

The air was still.

She didn’t move.

She didn’t want to chase it—whatever it was. That shimmer, that shift in the water. She’d done enough hoping. Enough waiting. If it was real, it would come to her.

The tide rolled in once. Then again. And then—

“Thought maybe you’d given up on me.”

Her breath caught.

She turned slowly, and there he was.

Half-submerged, just as he’d always been. Same spot. Same stillness. But everything about him looked… different.

His hair was longer, darker with water. His shoulders broader. The curve of his jaw shadowed. And his eyes—when they found hers—were tired in a way she’d never seen before. Not broken. Just worn.

She didn’t say anything.

She couldn’t.

“I came back,” he said simply. “Took me a bit longer than I meant.”

The words struck her right in the chest.

“I thought…” she trailed off, voice catching. “I thought maybe you weren’t real. That maybe I actually had imagined you.”

His mouth tugged into a faint smile. “Would’ve been easier, wouldn’t it?”

“No.”

She walked toward him slowly, sandals forgotten on the rocks behind her, water brushing at her ankles as she stepped into the surf. Close enough now to see the droplets clinging to his lashes, the way his lips parted like he hadn’t breathed until she moved.

“I looked for you,” she said. “Every night.”

“I know,” he said. “I felt it. Even from out there.”

“Why did you wait so long?”

His eyes dropped to the water between them. “Because I wasn’t sure you’d still want me.”

Her heart cracked clean in half.

“I left everything for you,” she said. “You think I did that just to forget?”

He lifted his gaze back to hers. “I didn’t want to come back just to hurt you again. Or make you wait for someone who doesn’t belong on land.”

“You do belong. With me.”

He blinked slowly. The moonlight shimmered in his eyes like he might cry, but wouldn’t. Not yet.

“Say that again,” he whispered.

“You belong with me.”

He closed the distance.

His hands reached for her, slow and reverent, and this time, when she stepped into his arms, the water didn’t matter. Her soaked dress, the cold seeping into her skin—none of it mattered.

He held her like a man who’d crossed oceans just to feel her heartbeat again.

And she held him like she was never letting go.

The water curled around their waists, warm where it touched skin, cool where the breeze slipped between them. Y/N’s arms stayed looped loosely around Harry’s neck, his hands still resting at her hips like he was afraid to let her drift.

They hadn’t moved since he pulled her into him. The silence between them had settled, heavy but gentle.

Then he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her properly.

“You really came back,” he said, like he still didn’t believe it. “I kept hopin’—but I wasn’t sure you would.”

She nodded slowly. “I didn’t just come back. I stayed.”

His brows lifted a little. “What d’you mean?”

“I live here now,” she said, brushing a damp strand of hair off her cheek. “I found a little apartment. Started working at a flower shop in town.”

He stared at her, stunned. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

He blinked, lips parted. “Bloody hell.”

A soft laugh broke from her chest. “That’s your reaction?”

He shook his head, still staring. “I just—I thought you’d gone back to your life. Your city. Didn’t think I’d see you again. Let alone find out you’ve made a whole new life here.”

She shrugged, but her voice was quieter now. “New York didn’t feel right anymore. Not after you.”

He looked down for a moment, water rippling around them.

“I don’t know what to say,” he murmured. “That’s… it’s mad. Kind of beautiful, though.”

“I thought I made a mistake for a while,” she admitted. “The first few weeks here, I kept coming down to the shore and you weren’t there. I almost gave up.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really. I should’ve come back sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He hesitated. “Didn’t know if I’d still fit in your world. Thought maybe you’d get back to New York, settle in, meet someone else… Someone with legs full time.”

She gave him a look. “You think I’d trade you for a finance bro in Brooklyn?”

He laughed softly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Guess not.”

She let out a breath. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said, voice low. “Every day.”

She wrapped her arms tighter around him, resting her head against his shoulder, letting the hush of the sea fill the space between their words.

“You really live here now,” he whispered, like he still needed to hear it again.

“I do.”

“And you’re alright?”

“I wasn’t,” she said. “But I think I’m starting to be.”

He nodded, his hand gliding gently up her back.

“Good,” he said. “Stay a while longer, yeah?”

She smiled against his skin. “I was hoping to stay forever.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then, softly—

“I think I’d like that.”

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