Grey Street // H.S.

Chapter 33: Janitor Closets

"Ouch," I feel a sharp pain in my back from something poking me. "What the fuck was that?"

"Probably just a broom," Harry huffs out between quick kisses, barely stopping to get the words out. I feel his hand brush over my arm as he reaches behind me, grabbing whatever it is that is poking me in the back. "Yeah, that's all. Sneaky thing." I feel him smile before he presses his lips back onto mine.

The smooth movement is intoxicating and I entirely forget about the broom and whether or not it's still pushing into me.

"How romantic," I laugh. "Just you, me and a broom in the janitor's closet."

"I sure know how to sweep you off your feet," he smiles again. I'm surprised he doesn't stop kissing me all together to laugh loudly at his own joke. Normally I'd feel the urge to slap him across the face for the cheesy line but I'm afraid if I do he will stop kissing me.

I feel his arms wrap tightly around my waist and now his words aren't figurative in any way and he truly has 'swept me off my feet' as they are no longer touching the ground. It doesn't last long though because seconds later my feet are firm on the ground again, only now I'm standing with a different wall behind my back, Harry pressing into me as he holds my arms above my head.

In reality this is almost as far as you can get from romantic, making out in a closet filled with cleaning supplies and the occasional screwdriver. The only light comes from the neon green exit sign above the door of this small space and you can still hear the blasting music through the walls. I'm sure the old couple we passed on our way to this custodial closet thought we were up to no good as we giggled our way through the door. If it wasn't for my desperateness to kiss Harry again I would have told them and their disapproving looks to fuck off.

This is where we ended up though, kissing hard in a closet that is obviously not meant for more than one person to be in, though we somehow make it work. I'm fairly certain Harry busted through the first door he saw available and even with the occasion thing pressing into my back I'm so glad he did. As soon as the door closed behind us his lips were on mine again and they haven't left for more than a few seconds since.

I'm sure I should have seen this coming. I feel like everything about this summer has lead up to this pivotal point. It was inescapable really, Harry and I kissing. No matter how many times I pushed the thoughts away I had to of known this would eventually happen.

Now that it is, I regret not doing it sooner. Who would have known getting drunk and then kissing my best friend because I didn't know what to say would be such a game changer?

"Mph," I blurt out as my hair gets stuck in something behind me. I feel Harry laugh against my lips before his hands reaches for the back of my head, expertly detangling my hair from whatever it was caught on.

"Sorry," he breathes out. His hand doesn't move from my head and instead it sort of cushions it against the wall.

Instead of moving away from the potentially dangerous wall he only pushes me harder into it, I think he's relying on his hand to block any possible hair ruining objects. His hips are firmly pressed against mine and I feel squished in the best possible way. His other hand slides down my arm, his fingers brushing softly against my skin.

I only kiss him harder, if that's possible. Our tongues are tangled, our breath distraught, my body is close to overheating, but I'm not sure I've ever felt so exhilarated in my entire life. It might be because I'm drunk but at this moment I feel as though I could do this forever and be totally content.

I feel his hand on my hip, it's progressively made its way down the longer we kiss, and he grips it tightly while rubbing his thumb over the rough material of my dress. I think he mumbles something about me being beautiful again but I can't seem to hear it over the smacking of our lips.