Lone [MATURE HS]

Chapter 6.

Adequate timing was a farce. I couldn't be any more late to anything ever again in such ridiculous conditions.

Rain was pouring hard this morning, drenching me cold, and dirt accumulated at the bottoms of my shoes, dragging a sloshing noise throughout the main corridor. And I knew that the game Harry was playing in would be postponed until further notice.

I round the corner only to meet up with the vending machine, which I was rushing to considering I knew that being late couldn't be helped now. Might as well grab a snack and add five minutes to the count. But as usual, before I can even see the vending machine itself, I come across him.

Harry stands at the vending machine, white headphones plugged into his ear and body glistening lightly from sweat that covered his biceps and neck.

A grey shirt hugged his body sufficiently for exercise, and a pair of basketball shorts equipped at the bottom half of his body. The music that plays in his ears can be heard faintly between the silence of the empty corridors.

A smile begins to curve into my lips. I stand behind him, reasonably close. His damp curls are pushed back with what I assume is the thin black headband and his sneakers are grey with slight outlines of neon green. Nike. His athletic attire is just as pleasing to see as anything else he wears; that isn't surprising at all.

I stay there, waiting until he turns around. He punches in a number with his index finger, grabbing a granola bar. My lips press together, stifling my own amusement.

When he finally goes to turn around, he does it quickly and without looking up. My mind goes into sudden shock as he knocks into me, and his eyes fly up just in time to see me stumble backwards.

Acting impressively fast, he grabs onto my sides and lets out a husky grunt fall from his lips. In the commotion that this was, my hand accidentally interferes with the wires of his headphones, forcefully removing them from his ears. They fall to the floor with a soft clack, and I'm breathless just as he's looking at me.

My smile is immediate and I can't help but start to laugh at my failed attempt to scare him as he's done to me.

Harry is quick-witted and able to understand the second I start to laugh. At first, he can't quite react, his face seemingly angered but as seconds pass, his expression softens to one of curiosity and muse.

"If you're going to use my own flirting mechanism, then do it right," he tells me lowly, softly, and I take notice of his hands that still hold my waist.

The green of his eyes is more apparent now that our distance is not very high. In actuality, they're very hard to look at because they're so light. And like he is, they project a quiet, calm exterior.

Still feeling my cheeks tighten, eyes squinted, and my laugh fading, I bend my arms to my chest and fold my hands beneath my chin, breathing out, "Sorry. I tried to scare you." My chest trembles lightly with my pathetic, soft giggles. I tried to mimic his actions, and failed terribly. I ignore that he called it his 'flirting mechanism'.

"You're not very scary, little piggy," he huskily warns. The amusement is clear -- his lips curved faintly into a grin, eyebrows furrowed and his eyes watching me like they've come to do all the time we see each other.

I settle down with my laughter, eyeing him back the way he so carefully does. And I don't mind the close distance. Harry then adds,"You're late to class again?"

I nod my head. "It's becoming a bad habit, yeah. I just have one class today."

"Yeah, I as well. I'm just using the gym to train. Work away some tension," he explains, and his hands that were once on my waist slide so gradually off of me, I'm a little stirred up by the touch. But I don't let the idea or the feeling dwell so much in my mind, and I brush it off to continue our conversation. My arms cross over my chest. "I've a test in advanced composition."