Resolution

19. Flaws

"You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve, and I have always buried them deep beneath the ground."

Song: Flaws

Artist: Bastille

I had a fascination with Harry's lips- the way they moved and shaped each and every word, their oddly dark pink color, the way they seemed to taste every word that slowly slipped past them, and the way his tongue would dart out occasionally to wet them, everything. I found myself staring at them for ridiculous periods of time when he spoke, my brain seeming to hum quietly as he worked me into a daze. I had to shake my head several times to wake myself from the trance he put me under and refocus on what he was actually saying.

The second I started thinking about the way his lips felt on mine and the way they molded so perfectly against my skin, I had to physically excuse myself to go to the restroom. I needed a break from the constant onslaught of his undivided attention, which was almost more intense than I could handle. Laser-like focus seared from his eyes as he looked at me, and I got the impression that he could easily see down to my very soul. That in combination with the enchanting way he spoke was enough to ruin me.

I wasn't sure I was going to survive this night.

I returned to the booth after a brief respite in the restroom, where I had splashed cold water on the back of my neck to revive me. My senses were absolutely tingling from being around him, and all we'd done was talk. We hadn't even touched since his thumb had grazed my knuckles despite my desperate wishes for more contact. It was like I could feel his gaze on my skin and the way my name fell from his lips when he spoke was like a drug coursing through my veins.

I suspected he knew, to some extent, exactly what he was doing to me, because he had caught me several times zoning out on his various features. Not only has his lips captured my attention, weird things like his eyebrows or the little mole on the side of his chin had completely captivated me. A smirk fell over his perfect lips as I sat back down.

"You good?" he asked, noting my slightly flushed face. I had never actually been so physically affected simply by watching and listening to a man speak, but here I was, coming unraveled at the seams because of him.

"Yeah," I replied. "Okay sorry, what were we talking about?"

I was desperate to talk about anything, honestly, because I found the tiniest of details about him fascinating. He had told me how he was from about two hours away where he'd grown up with his mom, sister, and stepdad, but didn't offer much more information on the topic of his family besides the make up of it. I got the distinct impression he was very protective of his family from the way he avoided basically any conversation about them, which only made me more curious.

Despite his reluctance to discuss his family, I'd learned a few things about him in our conversation. He was a surprisingly good student. He didn't do sports. He'd never had a girlfriend, which I already knew. None of these were very shocking revelations, but I was glad to know them because it gave me a bit more depth to him as a person.

It was easy to see him as some cocky playboy with no real substance, but knowing these little details about him made him seem like a real person just like everyone else. Of course, I had already known there was so much more to him as it was from the cocky playboy thing, but it was nice to know he'd been relatively normal otherwise. Or as far as I knew, anyway.

I'd been surprised when he'd asked me questions back, as he usually didn't ask anything or only rebounded my own questions back at me. He'd asked about my family after pretty much ignoring my questions about his, and I'd told him I was an only child with my parents still married, nothing special. He'd asked about what I was like before university, but I found myself utterly unable to describe myself. He'd watched me closely with an amused expression, seeming to find it funny as I struggled to find the appropriate words for myself and failing miserably.