Dedicated to immaturely for the lovely, creative fanart above! x

I COULDN'T RECALL A TIME in my life where I'd felt quite as happy. Sure, as a kid there had been plenty of things that made me feel joyful - like winning a junior painting competition and the egg-and-spoon race on Sports Day. However, those were only minor victories. The real victory had only just been achieved - Harry.

Of course it was Harry. He was my ray of sunshine on a rainy day, the cream to my strawberry, the apple to my pie, the-

- penís to your vagína.

I cleared my throat, disgusted with myself for thinking such crude things. 

It had been a fairly quiet day at the ERHA, and I'd powered through my day's work as if I were a machine. Honestly? Working at the housing association wasn't too bad when you realised that all you had to do was transfer data, write letters and answer a few phone calls from time to time. And the bonus was of course having rather tasty looking people up in the finance department. 

"You seem awfully happy," Fiona commented just before packing-up time. I just looked up at her and smiled. "In fact - very happy indeed."

"Well, what can I say? I've had a crush on someone for ages and we finally got together," I said.

This seemed to pique her interest, and she leaned closer on her desk, her long bejewelled hands, clasped tightly together. "Go on," she urged.

"You know Harry up in finance?" I said.

She just let out a laugh. "Do I know him? Honey, everyone here knows him. He's the eye-candy here at the ERHA and quite frankly, every lady - probably a few of the gentlemen - wants to jump his bones."

I just looked at her, a little shocked at the news. Everyone wanted Harry? Not that I blamed them, but it was a little bit of a surprise to hear. Come to think of it, whenever I saw him pass through the hall for his break or to run some errands, a few heads did turn to observe. 

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Well, we're kind of ... going out now."

Fiona just looked at me, almost as if she couldn't believe what I'd said. "Really?" 

I just nodded, unable to contain the smile on my face. It was my proud smile. 

THAT NIGHT I WORKED HARD on creating something that wasn't Harry's face. I dipped the brush into the paint and soon started to smear the colour onto my landscape piece, trying my hardest to bring the image of a countryside cottage to life. It was very much like home, and I'd been smiling every few minutes as I recalled precious memories from my childhood.

Harry sat on the red couch, reading a magazine. Every so often I'd look up to find him watching me with a soft smile plastered on his face. He looked great just sitting there, smiling. To know that I was the reason for that smile made me smile, and I ended up giggling as he wiggled his eyebrows at me.

"Stop distracting me," I groaned, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I want to finish a port-folio of landscape pieces to show this guy you were on about from the gallery."

"Oh, yeah," Harry mused as he flicked a page. "I got in touch, by the way."

I sat up straighter and asked, "You did?" 

Harry grinned wider and swivelled round to face me, gently placing the glossy magazine aside. "Yep. I phoned Zayn up the other day and said I knew someone who was an incredible artist and needed a big breakthrough - that person being you," he added, gesturing to me, "and he said he'd get in touch with the gallery owner and see about things. He sounded pretty enthusiastic."

I couldn't contain the squeal of delight that escaped my mouth and soon I'd jumped from my stool and was sitting in Harry's lap, lips glued to his. His hands wound round my waist and pulled me close, my chest flush against his. It was wonderful just being like that, embracing each other. Sometimes the act was more intimate than séx.

And that's when I remembered something; something that had been bugging me every since Harry had told me he loved me. Could he have felt pressured into it, perhaps? I, the very person who was desperate from the start to be with Harry, was the one to realise that maybe things were going a little too fast. Wasn't it? 

To tell someone you loved them took guts, positivity and honesty. Harry was all of those, had all of those - but the mere fact he had been in an intense and fairly recent relationship before we had got together, made me wonder if a) I was just over thinking it all, or b) he was one of those types to move rather quickly in a relationship.

I pulled back first, and Harry frowned.

"Jane?" he pondered.

"I need to ask you something," I started, sliding from his lap to sit beside him. I flicked the magazine out of the way. "And I want you to be honest with me."

He seemed confused but didn't question me further. "Alright."

I took a deep breath and asked the very thing that had been bugging me since those words had fell from his mouth. "Do you think this relationship is going a little too fast?"

Everything seemed to freeze and I had to hold my breath as I awaited Harry's answer. Truthfully, he didn't look mad as much as confused, and I was thankful for that. Some people hated when their relationships were questioned, but this was something I had to know, and if it were also Harry who felt the same way, the weight of asking would be lifted straight from my shoulders.

He shifted. "Maybe," he admitted. "But, I just ... I just like to be secure, you know?"

I frowned. "Secure as in you want to be completely settled and such?"

"Kind of," he almost questioned. "I guess after last time, I just want to make sure I won't lose you so suddenly."

I just scoffed. Harry? Lose me? Hell, it was completely the other way around - I was the one afraid of losing him. "Harry, there is no way you're getting rid of me so soon. Unless that's what you truly want to happen some time in the future... But please don't feel the need to rush to say or do things. Especially if you don't want to. You can talk to me about it, you know?"

He nodded and muttered, "Yeah, I do know. But you know what I mean, Jane.  Me saying I love you ... yes, it may have been a little too soon to tell you but just because the timing was rather quick, won't change the way I feel." He grinned wickedly at me and gently nudged my shoulder. "And besides, you were the one to tell me first, rather out of the blue and rushed."

I just covered my face in embarrassment. He'd brought it up a few times now, and it always made my cheeks turn bright red. It had seemed pointless to conceal such obvious and taunting feelings inside, so what harm had there been in telling him?

Yeah, especially after you practically blurted it out in his face to begin with!

"Shut up," I grumbled. "I'm sorry for that night. I have a ... how would you say a very loud, annoying inner voice?"

Harry just thought, a frown creasing his brow. "Um, how about - a very, loud, annoying inner voice?" he teased. "I think it was self-explanatory as it was."

"Oh," I muttered. "Yeah, well I have one of those. It's like a second person trapped within me, and it's a bitch."

A bitch? Pfft, please!

"I believe you," Harry chuckled as he reached out and carefully caressed my cheek. His touch made my heart pound and palms sweat, almost like he were touching me for the very first time. But then again, all he had to do was look at me and I'd be in such a fickle mess.

"So," I began, twiddling my fingers this way and that, "should we take this a little slower?"

He shrugged and wound his hand round the back of my neck to pull me closer. His lips met mine in a soft kiss, and I couldn't help but smile. When he pulled away, all he said to me was, "How can we take something that's already gone so fast, slow?"

"Oh, I suppose you're right," I giggled, my inner school-girl ogling like an idiot at the beautiful man before me. I wound my hands into his hair and kissed him, hard. He leaned over until his body was practically atop of mine, and I didn't hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist and keep him close. As close as physically possible.

"Unless," Harry said suddenly, parting from my mouth, "you want to take things ridiculously slow?"

I frowned. "Ridiculously slow?"

"Yeah. We could just go back to not kissing ... not having sex ... and just go out on dates every once in a while. And then, only when we're both sure it's the right time, we can kiss. And then-"

I cut him off with a kiss and a muffled, "Shut up."

He just chuckled and kissed me back.

"I thought so," he said when he pulled back. I just rolled my eyes and sat up with him, kissing his curly head gently before making my way back over to my stool. My cheeks were flushed and I blew out a breath.

"I should really be finishing these up, and soon," I muttered as I scratched my chin in thought. "I feel like this has something missing. What do you think?"

"Hm?" he muttered before standing and making his way round to view the image. A collage of colours from browns, reds, yellows, blues, greens had been used to capture the cottage and nature around it. Harry squinted at it closely and I just allowed myself to watch him in fascination as he silently critiqued my work. "I think..."

"Yeah?" I urged. "What? What does it need?"

He just hummed under his breath. "I think it needs a strapping young lad like myself in it, don't you think? I mean, it would match a lot of your other paintings, would it not?" he teased and my cheeks flushed again. I just slapped his thigh playfully and shook my head.

"Harry," I complained. "Seriously," I added.

He observed the canvas piece once again and shrugged. "I honestly don't know, Jane. You, after all, are the artist here. You know what you're doing."

"I know I'm the one painting it, Harry but I need fresh eyes to give suggestions," I groaned, picking up the paintbrush. "I need these to be interesting and beautiful for when - well, if - I get the chance to talk with this gentleman at the gallery. Talking to your mate is all good but it's the gallery who are interested ... then these need to be as good as possible."

"But Jane," Harry said, completely sincere, "they are already beautiful."

My heart warmed at his comment. He really was the most wonderful human being and I knew just how lucky I was to be with him, whether the relationship was going too fast or slow. It didn't matter; he was mine, and I was his. I just smiled at him widely. "Thank you, Harry."

He rubbed my back gently and kissed my forehead before he looked towards the painting and said, "It could use a little colour down in this bottom corner."

I just thanked him and quickly lunged my hand toward his face, the paint brush leaving a smear of colour across his cheek. His eyes widened momentarily in shock but he just laughed it off before he slowly reached towards the paint pot and dipped his fingers in it.

"No-" I gasped but I was too late; he'd smeared his finger across my nose and I just glared at him before giving him the finger.

You want him to give you the finger, Jane, taunted the voice and I just sighed. My dirty mind sometimes shocked me, but then again it shouldn't have - it'd been active for as long as I could remember. I also completely blamed Heather for it.

"I promise they are beautiful, Jane. And the other paintings will be too," Harry promised as he picked up the magazine and walked towards the door. "Want a cuppa?"

"Please. What other ones should I do? I like landscapes at the moment."

"Then stick to that. They love themes. The last time I was at the Somerset House Gallery, they had photography as their main display. Before that however, was this artist who favoured minimalist work and such. Bizarre some of them were, but still striking. So don't doubt your work, Jane. You're in with a definite shot of being accepted."

His words made my heart race. If he said I was in with a shot, I believed him all the way.

Hey guys. I am so sorry for the lack of updates but I was really not motivated to write this for some reason. Sorry! But hopefully I'll be updating more often - hopefully.

Thank you for being patient, I love you all so much x

Cazza