Hi! I know so many people gave up on this story because it's been literally years... but I'm glad to be writing again :) it's funny how inspiration ebbs and flows like that.

Try to comment and vote if you can ❤️

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Harry showed up the next morning before noon. Daisy had decided to make brunch with Nana just when she heard the familiar sound of his labored breathing and the drop of his gardening tools beside the flower bed outside. She sliced the cucumber on the cutting board and glanced out of the window, catching a glimpse of his dark hair and already-dirty hands. He was bent over the soil, wearing loose jean overalls and a dark shirt beneath.

Nana made the ham and egg sandwiches while Daisy labored away on cucumber and cream cheese. She wasn't much a of a cook so sandwiches were the best she could do. It was a strangely bright morning for Kent, so Daisy grabbed her straw hat before carrying the platter outside.

"Good morning," Daisy greeted from the porch. There was a small table and cushioned lounger. She set the platter down as she watched Harry rub his hands off on his overalls and look up at her from the petunias.

"What's this? No frying pan?"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Daisy smirked, tucking her ravenous hair behind her ear. "I've brought sandwiches instead."

Harry held his hands up, which were nearly as dark as his tee. "I don't want to grab one like this."

Daisy nodded, sauntering back into the house to find him a hand-towel. She had gone to bed last night with a plethora of things on her mind- the letter from Piper (which she had reread before brushing her teeth), the grocery-trip with Zayn, the car ride with Harry. More than anything, she thought of their "hang out" later today. Was it going to be weird? Could she trust Harry's mouth to not let anything rude and patronizing slip out?

It was funny that her only somewhat friends so far in Kent were men. Back in uni, Daisy didn't really intermix with their kind unless it was drunkenly at a party or soberly on a date. It wasn't that Daisy didn't receive male attention- with the attractive contrast between her hair and her skin, and the rosiness of her full lips, she was on the receiving end of many daydreaming eyes. However, they never usually had the courage to speak to her. Daisy always assumed she just wasn't one of those girls- truthfully, she just had an intimidatingly intellectual aura to her that young college boys were not secure enough to give a try.

But now she was older. Zayn and Harry didn't seem intimidated by her in the slightest.

She found the hand-towel and was on her way back out when Nana came up beside her.

"Daisy, bonita, can you tell Harry that there are some weeds near my Foxgloves."

"Yes, Nana," Daisy nodded.

The older woman eyed her, a small debate in her eyes before she spoke again. "Bonita... your father called again last night while you were out."

The mention of her father was not something Daisy expected to hear on such a beautiful morning. She pursed her lips as her chest tightened. "Thank you for telling me, Nana, but I don't care. You know I need my space."

"Yes, I know," the woman nodded, clearly solemn. "I just wanted to let you know."

"Okay, well, I know. I'm going outside now."

She left Nana in the living room and made her way back to the porch. Her smile was difficult to find again, even when she laid eyes on the handsome boy among the flowers. The sandwiches were untouched, so she gently tossed the towel at Harry. He stumbled to grab it before the towel fell, and wiped his hands as clean as he could, before reaching for a cucumber cream cheese.

"My grandma wants you to take care of the weeds around the Foxgloves."

Mouth full of sandwich, Harry groaned. "Bloody chickweeds. They always come back. I swear I pulled them all out last week."

"I guess you missed some," Daisy shrugged, forcing a tight smile. The phone call from her father lingered in her mind, darkening the rays from the sun and weighing on her shoulders as she sat in the lounger.

"What's up?" Harry asked. He wasn't the best at reading people, but even he noticed her demeanor.

"Nothing." Pause. "Well, just my dad. He called last night."

"Oh. And that's a problem because-?"

"I don't want to talk to him," she said. "I mean, I didn't actually talk to him last night because I was out. But just the fact that he keeps calling..."

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

Daisy sighed and pulled her straw hat over her eyes. "That's not something I would share with you, no offense."

"None taken," Harry replied gruffly. His hands were deep in the soil and she watched him yank the thick roots of the weed. The weed put up a fight and Harry swore under his breath, before finally it gave in. The gardener tossed it into a small bucket. "Dads can be the worst."

"No kidding."

Daisy lounged on the porch until Harry was done, straw hat titled over her eyes and arms crossed behind her head. She was optimistically dressed for warm weather; a loose white blouse and a pair of khaki shorts. The sun felt unfamiliar on her skin. She reveled in it for the next hour, quickly forgetting about her dad's call.

"Are you asleep over there?" Harry spoke up after dropping his shovel.

He climbed up on the porch and wiped his hands, his eyes darting around nervously. "Do you... Are we still hanging out?"

"That's the plan," Daisy sat up, smiling. "Where are we going?"

"I've got some ideas," Harry shrugged. "But I can't tell you them."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to give you the chance to say no," he smirked boyishly. It was now, in the sun with his overalls on and a couple smudges of dirt on his cheeks, that Harry looked his most charming. Daisy's breath hitched in her throat and she was suddenly in the body of a primary school girl. A cute boy stood in front of her, the kind of cute where his hair was messy but his lips were pink and he didn't smile often, but when he did it was gorgeous and blooming. Daisy wanted to roll in the grass with this smirking boy. She wanted to kiss the dirt off his cheeks.

"I've got to change real quick," Harry said, snapping her away from the giddiness. "Wait here?"

Daisy nodded and Harry ran off to his car. He was quick about it- minutes later, he was standing in front of her wearing a clean tee and blue jeans. The pair made it into his car and he started driving an unfamiliar route- Daisy's curiosity was piqued.

"So what are you into? What do you do for fun?" Harry asked before she could question their destination.

"What do I do for fun?"

"Yeah, c'mon. I know I've talked so much about films and all. I want to hear about your obsessions."

"Not everyone has an obsession," she said, rolling her eyes playfully. "Okay, okay. I suppose mine is art. Painting, really. Looking at it, making it. I love it."

"Art. Of course," Harry looked at her. "You look like an artist."

"Oh piss off. I look like a lot of things, according to you."

"You do, though. I mean- you look like someone who would have a good eye for that stuff."

"Thanks, I suppose," Daisy sighed. "I haven't been painting much as I'd like since graduating. I know what I want my art to be, but I haven't found the right muse yet. You know?"

"I know what you mean," Harry coughed and furrowed his eyebrows. "But, you know, I saw this interview with Ridley Scott one time. He directed Blade Runner- anyway, they asked him about his inspiration and stuff. He said something about how he goes looking for inspiration, not waiting for it to find him. Maybe it's the same for your muse."

"Maybe. I guess I hoped I could look for it here in Kent."

"When you find it, make sure you let me know," Harry said, rubbing his neck. "I really want to see what you paint, yeah?"

"Yeah," she nodded quickly. "I will."

The rest of the ride was quiet before they ended up at what appeared to be a market. There were white tents propped up with lots of people walking around dressed in their once-a-year shorts. It was more people than Daisy had ever seen so far in Kent. Her cheeks brightened as Harry parked the car and unbuckled, stealing a glance at her.

"Have you been here before? The Farmer's Market? It's every Saturday starting in the spring, I believe."

"I haven't," she shook her head. "It looks so cute! Are we here for something specific?"

"Snacks," Harry stated plainly. "C'mon."

The two of them walked alongside each other under the spring sun, getting bumped here and there by a running toddler or the occasional careless high school student. Harry suddenly wore a tight expression, visibly stiff. Daisy wasn't sure how close to stand beside him- how many centimeters is appropriate between you and a guy friend who you find particularly alluring? She settled on keeping about a foot's distance between them. An older women bumped into Daisy's shoulder just as they passed by the produce, and Daisy consequently ran into Harry's arm. She blushed, mumbling a "sorry", but noticed that he didn't seemed fazed by it.

"Harry, is everything okay?"

They had paused in front a vendor selling all sorts of fruits. Harry was eyeing the produce with a firm gaze, as if he was judging every bruise and yellow spot.

"I'm fine," he said, not looking at her. "I didn't realize there would be so many people."

"Does that bother you?" Daisy questioned, looking around. "All the people?"

Harry didn't respond. She hated that. With a sigh, Daisy decided not to press any further and instead looked at the fruit. She couldn't make Harry feel comfortable telling her what's wrong, not when they'd only known each other for a couple weeks now. Even then, they had only actually spent a couple days together, really. This was the first time they were truly hanging out and Daisy was still in shock by it. Never could she have guessed that she'd be looking at fresh fruit to buy with the boy who insulted her upon first greeting.

"Harry!" Daisy gasped.

"What?"

"Look at these raspberries! Oh, they're my favorite."

She pointed to a box of the fresh berries, red and supple. She could recall a time when Piper and her mother had brought ack of raspberries from the store and the three of them had eaten the whole thing in about 5 minutes.

"Let's get them," Harry said, pulling out a wallet from his jeans pocket. The feminist in Daisy wanted to offer to split the cost, but a voice in her head said it's just berries. She simply smiled as Harry paid the short lady for the raspberries and she packed them in a bag.

They spent the next half an hour collecting other additions to their snacks- a bottle of Merlot, some fancy cheese (or at least, fancier than the stuff at Tesco). Harry seemed to soften a little by the time they made it back to his car. Daisy noticed that he had kept looking around at all the people, fingers tapping against the leg of his jeans. It was as if he was waiting to see someone, or maybe he just felt like they were all looking at him. There was a moment when they were looking at the wine that a girl their age seemed to be looking at them from across the sidewalk. Daisy couldn't tell if the girl was actually looking at them, or if Harry's clear nervousness had rubbed off on Daisy and she was just starting to see things. But Daisy did see that Harry glanced at the girl a few times, seeming to notice her as well.

Daisy decided to shake it off. Social anxiety was nothing to be ashamed of. She was certain that was all it was because Harry seemed to relax once they were back in the car.

"What are all these snacks for?" Daisy finally asked.

"Well, a good movie deserves good snacks."

"Movie?" Daisy raised an eyebrow. "Are we going to a theatre?"

"Sorta," he hummed, "Can you not handle uncertainty, Daisy Cecile?"

"How'd you know my last name?"

"It's your grandmother's last name so I figured."

"Oh," she licked her lips. Harry stopped at a light and glanced at her, expectant. "I can handle uncertainty. I just like to know where a man is taking me so I can let my Nana know where to find me if I go missing."

Harry snorted out a breath, "Jesus, I'm not a murderer."

"Well, statistically speaking, if anyone in this car is a murderer, it's you." Daisy smiled over at him but was met with another stiff expression.

Harry pursed his lips. "I'm not a bloody murderer."

"Well, of course not," Daisy spoke each word slowly. "I'm just teasing you, Harry."

"Okay," he nodded and offered a smile to lighten the air. "I know that." He drummed his fingers on the wheel and took a deep breath. "We are going to the theatre, so you can tell your Nana that."

"I was joking about that, too," Daisy shook her head. "My Nana doesn't need to know where I am all the time. Believe it or not, I am capable."

"I believe it. I mean, clearly you've trained in self-defense." Harry gestured to the faint mark on his lip. "Oh, wait. That was the sex cult who hit me, right?"

"Yup," Daisy smirked, "You better not upset them again."

"I'm doing my best to please them." He shot a glance at her. "How am I doing so far?"

"Hmm, you're doing well. But they still haven't made their mind up about you."

"That's fair," Harry said just as he parked in front of a familiar building. "I guess I'll just have to keep pleasing them."

The building was a theatre that Daisy had noticed a couple times on her walks to Tesco. It was an older style building, with beautifully painted murals on the sides of it. She reached for the bottle of wine to help Harry carry the snacks inside, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"I'm going to stuff it all in my backpack," Harry muttered. "We're not... we're not actually buying tickets."

"What?"

"Shh, I do this all the time. Don't worry."

Daisy didn't have time to question him because Harry was already out of the car, slinging on his backpack and heading to the side of the theatre. She glanced at the ticket booth as she followed him, hoping that the lady behind it wouldn't watch them. Luckily, there were enough people at the theatre today that Harry and Daisy could slip by unnoticed.

"This way," Harry whispered, and he guided her to a fire safety staircase in the back of the building. She followed him up the stairs, shaking her head in denial.

"This isn't gonna work. There's an alarm for the door, Harry-"

"Yeah, there's supposed to be an alarm," Harry raised an eyebrow as he reached for the emergency exit at the top of the stairs. "But I figured out ages ago that the fucks who own this place are too lazy to repair it."

He pushed the door open to make his point, and alas, no alarm. Daisy's mouth parted in disbelief but she quickly trailed behind him as they snuck inside. They were at the back of the building, near the washrooms, and it was a bit dark. A hand found hers and she didn't even realize it before the hand started to pull her in the direction of the double doors leading to a theatre. The hand was rough and warm. She tightened her fingers around his.

The film had already just started but with an exchange of small giggles, the kind of laughter that two children might share after successfully playing a prank, the two of them sat down into the back row. Harry pulled his backpack onto his lap and grabbed their snacks.

"I've no idea what movie this is," he leaned over, whispering in her ear so that his voice was just a hot breath on her skin.

Looking at him with playful eyes, she whispered back, "Shall we critique it?"

"Absolutely."

The film was rubbish. It was quite obvious to them after the first minute or so. Daisy pulled her legs up on the chair so she could lean into Harry's side, her lips having easy access to his ear anytime something stupid happened and she would giggle and quietly tell him her critique. Did the casting call ask for high school theatre rejects? He would whisper back to her and they would snicker, earning them a couple glared from the folks in the row ahead. They didn't really notice as they munched on their raspberries until both of them had bright red lips and tongues. Harry was grateful he remembered to buy a screw-off wine bottle as he opened it and took a swig.

"I didn't take you as a wine guy," Daisy said in his ear before grabbing the bottle from him.

"Usually depends on what film I'm watching," he hummed back. "Any kind of alcohol would get me through this one, though."

"Maybe it gets better."

"Even if it got better it'd still suck."

"Heyyy. Maybe it has a good plot twist."

"I think if they all died I might enjoy it."

"That would be a dark turn," Daisy but her lip, wine on her tongue. "Maybe it's a commentary on how terribly boring and one-dimensional everything is these days."

"Don't give it that much credit," he whispered back. "I don't think they were thinking that much when they made this."

"Shhhhh."

Some bloke in front of them hushed loudly and Daisy had to fight a laugh. She leaned deeper into Harry, only the armrest holding her back completely melting into his warmth. It felt like that night at the movie store when they were on the floor together. Only this time, it was Harry's hand that found her thigh. It laid just where her shorts ended, politely avoiding her bare skin, and she was painfully aware of how much she would enjoy it if he moved his hand just a little lower. Surely, it was the wine thinking that.

It was also the wine that was thinking about how if they would both just turn their heads a bit, their lips would meet. And it was the wine that made Daisy peer at his neck, following the curve of it until she met his jaw, a beautifully sharp edge that she was certain would look equally good on a canvas or between her thighs. Even in the dark theatre, Daisy felt like she could see all of him. She could see his cheekbones that created shallow valleys of shadow and she could see their little curls of hair hugged his ears and the nape of his neck. Half of her ached to reach over and bury her fingers in those curls, the same kind of ache as when you're desperate to bury your toes into the warm sand.

The wine on her tongue whispered after a few minutes, "Do you remember when you called me pretty?"

Harry kept staring at the screen. She might have thought he hadn't heard her if it weren't for the bob in his throat.

She said again, "Did you mean that?"

The boy beside her tore his eyes away from the rubbish drama and looked at her through hooded lids. He parted his lips to speak.

"The first time I saw you," he murmured lowly, "I couldn't stop looking at you. I thought you were the prettiest thing I'd ever seen."

Her heart did that thing again. A thumb suddenly found her bottom lip, plump and raspberry-tainted. Harry was staring at her like he was watching a film in her eyes. Daisy, slightly buzzed, couldn't recall a time anyone had ever looked at her in such a way. He stared and stared, for who knows how long, and she waited for what her lips longed to have. She longed to see what kissing him would feel like. She longed to know if his lips felt warm or cold; if they tasted like anything or like nothing at all. It was terrifying and confusing all at the same time because it was right then that Daisy could admit to herself that she'd never wanted anything more than to kiss him.

But that was all Harry did- stared.

His thumb dropped and without another word, he looked back at the movie, leaving her lip feeling empty in the placed he'd touched.

Daisy couldn't pay attention to the rest of the movie. Harry gave a few snark comments here and there, and she offered a small laugh in return, but nothing else. When the film was over, they snuck out the way they came.

"Stanley Kubrick is rolling in his grave right now," Harry sputtered on their way to the car, running his hand through his hair. "That movie was an insult."

"Yeah."

Harry continued talking in that passionately-fast way he did whenever he started going off about films. She would have been listening if it weren't for her frustration, both at him and herself. You're mad he didn't kiss you when you were the one who ran away in the first place? The voice in her head was harder to listen to due to the wine she'd had. When they got in the car, Daisy turned her knees towards to window. Harry simply continued talking for the whole ride, because he wasn't the kind of guy who noticed things like that.

"Why do you think they did that?"

The car came to a stop about ten minutes later.

Daisy blinked, "Did what?"

"Are you okay? You seem out of it. I get that it was bad, but I thought it was fun to-"

They were parked in the car outside Nana's house when Daisy finally flashed her eyes towards him and swallowed thickly, annoyance flaring up her neck and cheeks. Daisy didn't know where it had come from, but the pit in her stomach traveled up her throat and escaped her puffy lips like the whip of a flame.

"Why didn't you kiss me?" she demanded, fists tight in her lap. "I don't understand. You tell me I'm pretty, buy me raspberries and sneak me into the movies. The other night- I know I ran away, but I thought there was something going on between us and I thought you were wanting it, too. I mean, you can look down at my boobs all the time but you can't kiss me? What the hell."

Daisy was nearly out of breath and her mind was racing. Harry shut his mouth- like he bloody should!- and stared at her with his eyebrows lowered intently. There was a long pause where all that could be heard was Daisy trying to regain her breath. Harry was so still that she wondered if she'd said too much, but before she could take any of it back, he pinched his lip between his fingers and spoke quietly.

"Do you really want to know why I didn't kiss you, Daisy?"

Something dark laced his voice. It scratched her ears and sent a shiver along her back. Tongue in her cheek, Daisy felt her head nod against her choice. Harry reached over the center console and placed his hand firmly under her jaw, tilting it up so her dark eyes met his suddenly unwavering gaze. The car had filled up with dense air that caused moisture to film over Daisy's palms and she felt equally nervous and aflame from the way Harry was glowering at her.

"Because," the boy muttered, his voice so different than how it had been only moments ago. "I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself."

"Stop yourself from what?" Daisy managed to squeak out. His hand was still firm against her jaw, his rough thumb to her cheek.

All at once, Harry unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over to her, grabbing her face with both hands as his lips gently brushed against hers as if to test if they would burn him before fully, urgently, kissing her. Daisy wasn't sure if it was really happening, so she reached her hand into his hair and brushed her nose against his to inform herself that it was, indeed, happening and she had never felt more relieved in her life.

Harry's lips were hot and firm, prying her mouth apart with such force that Daisy buckled into submission. The hands cupping her face slipped back into her hair, fingertips digging against her scalp and keeping her lips locked against his so his tongue could dip inside with ease. It was all so fast and needy, like how she imagined it might feel to eat for the first time in days. She breathed him in and he pulled her closer and he dug his teeth into her bottom lip, but she hardly felt it because his tongue was quick to swipe over the area of assault.

When he drew apart for a breath, Daisy licked her swollen, bitten, raspberry lips.

"You don't understand," he groaned and hissed, dropping his hands from her hair. "I want to fuck you so bad. I've wanted to since the first time we met. You looked so damn fuckable- fuck, you always do." He gasped for air and kissed her again, his mouth hard against her as if to pour out all the past nights of frustration with simply his hand and thoughts of her to get him by. "I want to fuck you against the wall," he muttered between kisses, "I want to fuck you in my bed. I want to spank you, Daisy. I want to suck on your tits until they're all bruised."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It seemed only fitting that his words sounded like something from a film.

"Do it, then," Daisy dared him, her eyes wild. Her words were equally unbelievable.

She unbuckled his seatbelt so she could swing her leg over and situate herself upon his lap, but Harry began shaking his head profusely.

"No, no, no, no. Not like this. Not here." He swallowed, hands grazing her ass, so damn tempted to grab it and knead it and force her to press against where he was aching. Despite how long it had been since he'd even kissed a girl, Harry had a surprising amount of restraint. He'd thought about this a lot- he had thought about what this beautiful girl with dark bangs and pale skin and puffy eyes would look like with his cum dripping out of her. He wanted to savor the view of it, not hastily wipe it off after fucking her in his bloody Honda.

"Let me..." Harry carefully scooped her up and ushered her towards the back of his car. "Meet me back there, yeah? Let me take care of you."

Daisy didn't know what that meant but she listened, squeezing into the backseat with some of her hair sticking to her mouth and her forehead. Her bangs were all over the place and her white blouse was sliding off her shoulder. Harry let out a heavy breath of excitement, turned the light in his car off, and got out of the drivers seat. He walked around and opened the back door so he could crawl in next to her.

"You're not like, drunk, right?" He asked her, reaching for the button of her shorts.

"I'm barely buzzed," she shook her head. He took her words as the okay to pop the button and drag down her zipper. He was looking all over her, his eyes not certain where they wanted to stay because every inch of her, clothed, was so fucking hot and he swore the version of her in fantasies had not done her justice.

"I want to please you," Harry panted, shimmying her shorts down her legs. Her shoes went next- Harry tugged them off swiftly and then placed them on the floor of the car, leaving her toes covered in her socks.

A smile danced at his wet lips when Harry saw the panties that hugged her hips- a cheeky yellow pair with daisies all over them.

"You're kidding," Harry groaned and instantly dived his head between her thighs. Daisy blushed when she noticed what she was wearing and tried to cross her legs together, but he pried them apart and kept the thighs open with his hands. "That is so fucking cute."

With that, he planted a hot kiss over the wet spot on her panties. The pleasure that had seeped through the fabric was enough for him to taste and Harry was desperate to have more of it. His fingers pushed the crotch of her panties to the side so his tongue could reach her.

Oh. Daisy felt her body tighten and then relax from the sudden feel of his warm tongue on her. It had been awhile- perhaps since graduation- that anyone had done this for her and she couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that Harry wanted to please her. It was always the other way around. She didn't have much time to dwell on her disbelief because soon his tongue was rocking against her swollen clit and the pressure made her gasp. Her sock-covered feet wriggled against his back, toes curled, and she chewed at her lip to keep herself from moaning.

"I've got to earn you," Harry muttered against her, licking and rocking and feasting. His lips were already bright from the raspberries, but now they were swollen and glistening with his spit and her moisture. "Before I can fuck you."

It was funny how now that he was eating her out, Harry wasn't really nervous at all. He let his hormones do the work, his hand pressing down on her stomach to keep her hips in place for him. He had wanted this so bad. Her hand gripped his hair and forced his head to move at the pace she liked, his tongue steady and firm against her so that a familiar peak began to build.

Daisy's lower half only had her panties and her socks on. Her thighs, fuller now at the age of 23 than they had ever been, were practically squishing Harry's cheeks, giving him little room to breathe but that didn't seem important to him as focused on making the girl beneath him cum on his tongue. He thought her full thighs were heavenly; the lips of her pussy were a godsend; and the soft curve of her stomach was surely a marvel. His lips moved along with his tongue so fervently that he felt like he could drink her all in.

"Keep... oh, keep doing that, Harry."

With just one more flick, she was writhing against the backseat of his Honda, panting and whimpering and muttering his name under her breath. The boy between her legs, whose jaw looked just as good as she thought it would, kissed her clit gently and licked her one more time before sliding her panties back over and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I like the way you taste," he told her, helping to pull her shorts back up. His hair was as displaced as hers and a couple strands hung over his eyes. Daisy reached over to push them up, still catching her breath, and she smiled slyly at him.

"That cult," she said hazily, "They've decided to let you in."

"Oh yeah?" Harry raised a brow and leaned over to bite her lip. "I pleased them enough?"

"Mhm," was all she could muster, and it was then that Daisy noticed the vibration of her phone. She swore to herself, buttoned her shorts, and sat up so she could reach to the front and grab it. Harry was sitting beside her with his legs spread apart and a thoughtfully smug expression.

4 missed calls from Nana.

2 text messages from Zayn.

Purposely tilting the phone away from Harry, she read the texts from Zayn first.

Hey! Remember your advice about Astrid?  the first message read.

Well it worked! We talked about it and she said she wanted a party. Next Saturday at 6pm. I'll text you the address. Hope you can come!

She couldn't help but smile, imagining Zayn's excitement as he'd texted her. She hadn't noticed, but Harry already went back to the front of the car. Grabbing her purse for her, Harry turned back and licked his lips.

"You should get going. Your grandmother is probably worried," he murmured, taking a pause before leaning forward to plant one last firm kiss to her mouth. Daisy nodded, her mind still scrambled and a layer of sweat over her skin as evidence of what had just taken place, and she was just about to slip her phone in the bag before a hand stopped her. He grabbed the phone, not even offering her a glance or a chance to speak, before he put his number in.

"You can text me, okay?" Harry then put the phone in the purse for her. His voice was still low, as if he was confiding in her with a secret.

"Or call me. But don't run away this time, Daisy."

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