twenty three

                                    

                                          
Songs for the chapter:
Dead In the Water - Ellie Goulding
Sing - Ed Sheeran
Bloom - The Paper Kites

Harry's POV:
The streets are completely void of life as Cleo and I make our way down the uneven sidewalk. I mean, who in their right mind would be up this early; it's barely 6:00 am... I rub sleep from my eyes and run a hand through my messy hair, trying to remember why on earth I agreed to this. My eyes move from the empty path ahead down to my sleepy, beautiful girl, who's having trouble keeping her eyes open as she walks. I can't fight the fond smile that breaks out on my lips; she's so damn cute.
Oh yeah, that's why; I would jump in front of a moving car for that girl.
"Here we are," Cleo announces through a yawn, pushing the shop door open and making her way inside. Warm air hits me in the face straight away and I'm more than grateful; the bitter cold outside is dreadful. While Cleo calls out Mick's name, receiving silence in response, I let my eyes scan the shop. The last time I was here, the shelves were overflowing with records. Now, they're mostly barren, only a few albums remain on display. Cardboard boxes are strewn about, waiting for miscellaneous things to be packed inside them.
"Hey! Sorry, I was loading a box onto the truck out back. Thank you for coming," Mick rambles as he jogs into the shop from the rear hallway.
Cleo waves him off, "No, it's totally fine; we just got here." She turns her attention to me, gesturing between the pair of us, "Mick, you remember Harry right?! He was here a few months back to buy a record." He eyes me up and down for a few seconds, a look of vague recognition behind his eyes.
"He never did end up buying the record though, 'cause he's a flake," she teases, ramming her elbow into my ribs.
I catch her elbow as she's retreating and yank it, bringing her body to mine, "Watch it."
Mick suddenly snaps his fingers as if recalling something, "Oh, yeah! The hickey guy."
The air I'm inhaling gets caught in my throat and I'm choking, doubled over as I cough violently. When I'm done choking, I straighten up and look down at Cleo; a look of absolute mortification is etched into her features. She is rigid from head to toe, not surprisingly, seeing as freezing up is her body's automatic defense mechanism. Mick bursts out laughing, reaching forward and shaking Cleo a bit to rile her out of the state she's in. I bite my lip to keep from laughing outwardly at her obvious discomfort and embarrassment.
"Oh, relax; I'm only teasing." Mick lets out one final, low chuckle before composing himself, "So, Harry, are you finally back for what you came for?"
I shake my head twice, "No, I already got it." My eyes find Cleo just as the words hit her and her eyes widen. A blush makes it's way up her neck to her cheeks where it settles. And although she tries to fight it, I can see the little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Mick shrugs, mumbles a quiet 'oh well', then heads to the final shelf that needs packing up. Cleo begins to follow him, but I grip her waist from behind and give her a tug, bringing her back to my chest. A muffled oomf leaves her lips as our bodies collide, my spontaneous action clearly surprising her.
Just as I open my mouth to speak, Cleo reaches back and covers my face with her palm, "Whatever cheesy line you're planning to lay on me, save it."
And at that, I smirk because damn, she knows me so well. That doesn't stop me though from dishing out a line with extra cheese, "It's not just a cheesy line I'd like to lay on you, babe."