High Noon [H.S]

strawberry wine

I'd somehow allowed Harry to convince me to let him take me out to breakfast before my work shift later on today. Despite anything else, if there was one thing that had changed since meeting him, it was that I was slowly starting to become an early riser. Though, there was still a significant emphasis on slowly, there was nothing quite in the world that got me out of bed like the words free pancakes and coffee.

We were sitting in the same patent booth we had been only weeks ago, eating in the same diner Harry had taken me after the first time I'd been at his art studio. His raving reviews didn't just stop at the milkshakes and burgers, but apparently they also stood for every single breakfast item on the menu, specifically the pancake feast as he had recommended with a large childish smile on his face. He definitely wasn't wrong.

"Looks like you're enjoying them, huh?" Harry asks, amusement lacing his every word at my assassination of the pancakes.

He should know better than to take me anywhere when I was as hungry as I was this morning.

I pause, my fork in mid-air, punctured into a large piece of syrup soaked pancake. "Was that supposed to be a dig?" I ask, before heaping a spoon of whipped cream on top of it.

Harry chuckles, before sarcastically stating, "A dig? I would never." Though, the smirk on his mouth says otherwise.

"Yeah, you would never," I confirm, finally taking the bite from my fork. I wipe my mouth with the napkin beside me before sneaking a glance at Harry and swallowing. "Because you know I would slap you."

He raises a brow in glee. "On second thought, maybe that doesn't sound so bad. I do like it a bit rough now and again."

"God, help me," I groan, causing Harry to throw his head back against the booth in laughter.

"Hey, you set yourself up for it. It's your fault, really."

I scoff. "My fault? You just have a knack for finding something sexual or cheeky in absolutely anything. It's a curse."

"A talent, you mean," he corrects me with a stern look. It was definitely a gift that he kept on giving, but one that I also constantly wanted to return to get my money back.

"Sure, let's call it that."

A small silence engulfs us as our small banter dies down, but silence was really the last thing I needed right now, especially when my mind was filled with thoughts of how ridiculously cute Harry looked in his woolly beanie and oversized jumper or how every time he looked at me with his sleepy eyes and that lazy smile I wanted to hurl myself into his side and never leave. But then, it was also filled with thoughts that had been painstakingly overwhelming ever since the other night at Zayn's.

So many things had become clear for us, but there was still something gnawing in the back of my mind, telling me that although I had forgiven Harry, there were still red flags there that scared me. There were still things I wanted to say to him, things I wanted him to know and understand. Things I had abandoned to say that night in fear, but knew I needed to or I'd regret it.