I dried my hair with a plush white towel while Harry got dressed. Every time I saw him drag his tight boxers up his thighs, my cheeks turned red just like the first time I had ever seen him get dressed.

We were staying at his parent's house for the weekend. During dinner, he was playing with the hem of my skirt under the table and I knew that both him and I were ready to give ourselves to each other. So, that night after everyone was asleep except for us, we had sex for the first time.

The next morning, he woke up before me, but I was lucky enough to open my eyes just as he grabbed his undies to put them on.

"You're staring," Harry laughed, pulling my mind away from the flashback.

"Shut up."

I threw the wet towel at him, accidentally hitting him in his barely covered bollock region.

He doubled over in pain while I tried to contain my laughter. Seeing him hurt wasn't humorous, but how he got hurt really was.

He took a few deeps breaths before he could stand straight again.

"It's on," he said, running at me.

I shrieked jokingly and started to run away from him.

I didn't know my way around the new place so I ended up running circles around the living room couches. Harry almost caught up to me, but ended up falling on the floor, hurting himself more than before.

"That's why you don't run around half naked," I said, kneeling down to help him.

"I'm not even joking, I think I just sprained my wrist."

He held out his hand, trying to show me his injury, even though you can't really look at something and know it's sprained right away. I touched the side of his wrist and he immediately jumped back in pain.

"I'll go get some ice," I said, planting a kiss on his limp hand.

I found the bags and the ice after a while of rummaging and him whining.

"Hold it where it hurts," I instructed, handing him the Ziploc bag full of ice cubes.

He got off the floor and sat on the couch, carefully holding the makeshift ice pack to his wrist.

I laid down, resting my wet head on his nearly naked thigh.

Cold drops of water fell from the plastic bag and onto my face, but I ignored it.

"We're a mess," I laughed.

He chuckled and rubbed my stomach with his "sprained hand".

I looked up at him and saw his face from an angle that wasn't new, but felt it anyways. His cheekbones were perfectly sculpted and his chin was naturally pointed out. His eyelashes cast a shadow upon his cheeks, but his emerald green eyes were still obvious.

No matter how many times he kissed me or touched me, I wanted his lips and the tips of his fingers on me again. I craved the feeling of his mouth pressed up against mine. I craved the feeling of his hands touching my thighs. I craved him.

"My wrist is getting frostbite," he said, concern in his voice even though his statement sound like a joke.

"You're not getting frostbite, but you can take it off for a little bit now."

I heard him shuffle his hands about and I could feel his arms move a little bit.

"I love you," he whispered.

Every time the words rolled off his tongue, I felt warmth in the pit of my stomach. I cherished every last syllable of the words, storing the sounds somewhere in my brain. I swore that his voice sounded like every happy thing that had ever existed and that the stars were jealous at how bright his eyes would shine each time he declared his love.

I wanted to tell him how poetic his pure existence was, but the words wouldn't form. I just hoped that he knew.

"I love you."

"This whole set-up has me in a sappy kind of mood," he joked.

"What set-up?"

"We're in a cabin in the middle of winter and we had sex in the shower like thirty minutes ago. Pretty sure this is a movie."

I smiled, getting up off the couch.

I looked around for something to do rather than be a couple of saps. There were a lot of books and 1950s movies, but not much else. I rummaged around until I found a deck of cards and a couple of old board games pushed underneath the bookcase.

"Do you know any card games?" I asked, showing Harry the deck.

"I can play poker."

All I could think about was my mum yelling at my dad for spending all of our money on stupid poker games. He slurred out multiple excuses, none of them making the least bit of sense.

"How about Go Fish?"

He nodded and joined me, sitting in the middle of the floor.

He shuffled the dusty cards and, after a few minutes of arguing over how many cards we were each supposed to have, dealt out seven cards.

"I'll go first," he said, "Any sixes?"

I shook my head, a smug smile plastered on my face.

"Let's not get too competitive now," he said, grabbing a card from the deck.

After two hours of me winning and Harry requesting rematches, we decided to go to bed. It was much earlier than we were used to, but he was tired from the drive and I was never not tired.

I crawled into bed, clothes and all. The sheets felt weird against my exposed skin because they weren't the same material as ours, but after a few minutes my arms stopped feeling as scratchy and everything was good.

After he brushed his teeth, Harry joined me in bed. He didn't need to change or anything since he was already in only his boxers. Not that I had a problem with that because I most certainly did not.

"I'd say our day was pretty successful wouldn't you?" I said, twisting my fingers around one of his long curls.

"Mhm."

He traced my barely visible collarbones before he planted soft kisses along them.

"Go to sleep, Harold."

He hummed lightly before laying his head on my chest. I was still twirling his hair around my fingers when he dozed off.

I couldn't sleep because of the nightmare I had had earlier, but watching him made me feel more at ease, as weird as it sounds.