Page 29 of Defying the Crown
"Harry?"
His eyes found mine, and a smile transformed his entire face. The formal, almost stiff posture he'd walked in with softened, his shoulders relaxing as he weaved between the tables toward me. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the coffee shop chatter. Up close, I noticed the tiny details our video calls hadn't captured - the slight crinkle around his eyes when he smiled, the way his sweater brought out flecks of gray in his blue eyes, how his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve in a gesture so familiar from our conversations about anxiety.
Gone were my rehearsed greetings and clever opening lines. Instead, I just sat there, probably grinning like an idiot, drinking in the sight of him. All those late-night conversations, all those shared fears and hopes and silly jokes - they crystallized into this moment, this person standing before me who somehow felt like both a stranger and an old friend.
The sunlight streaming through the window caught his hair, turning it to gold, and I had to resist the urge to reach out and touch it, to verify that he was real and not just another daydream born from too much caffeine and hope.
My heart raced as Harald made his way across the coffee shop. Each of his steps seemed to stretch time itself - too fast and too slow all at once. The confident stride I'd noticed when he first walked in had transformed into something more hesitant, more human.
The late afternoon sun painted shadows across his face as he weaved between tables, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the slight flush creeping up his neck. I caught a whiff of his cologne - something expensive and subtle that made my head spin. Or maybe that was just the effect he had on me.
Three tables away. Two. One.
I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor with an awkward screech that made several heads turn. Heat rushed to my face, but Harald's lips quirked up in that crooked smile I'd grown to adore through our countless selfies.
"Daniel." His voice was softer in person, touched with an accent that our phone call hadn't quite captured. He stopped just short of my table, close enough that I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the slight tremor in his hands that matched my own.
The bustling coffee shop faded away. The whir of the espresso machine, the chatter of other customers, even the jazz music playing overhead - it all dissolved into white noise. There was just Harald, standing before me, more real than any fantasy my anxious mind had conjured up during those sleepless nights of wondering.
I wanted to say something clever, something that would break the tension and make himlaugh like he did during our late-night conversations. Instead, I found myself frozen, drinking in every detail of him - the way his sweater hugged his shoulders, how his hair fell across his forehead, the nervous way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
We stood there, awkwardly hovering between a handshake and a hug, the coffee shop's ambient noise filling the silence between us. My usual quick wit and snappy comebacks deserted me. All those text messages, all that easy banter - none of it had prepared me for the reality of Harald standing right here, his presence both thrilling and terrifying.
"I..." My voice cracked. I cleared my throat, trying to summon my usual sass, but something in the way he looked at me - gentle, uncertain, almost reverent - stripped away my defensive armor. "I was starting to think you might not show."
Harald's fingers twisted the hem of his sweater. "I almost didn't. Not because-" He paused, swallowing hard. "I sat in the car for ten minutes, trying to convince myself to walk in."
"Yeah?" The word came out softer than I intended. "What made you do it?"
"I saw you through the window." His cheeks flushed pink. "You were checking your phone and running your hand through your hair, just like you said you do when you're nervous. It made you real."
The raw honesty in his voice knocked down another brick in my carefully constructed wall. My hand flew self-consciously to my hair - had I really been doing that?
"I'm usually better at this," I admitted, gesturing vaguely between us. "The whole meeting new people thing. I've got this whole routine - witty remarks, perfectly timed eye rolls..."
"I like this version better." Harald's smile was shy but genuine. "The real one."
My chest tightened. Here we were, two people who'd shared our deepest fears over text, now struggling to figure out how to exist in the same physical space. The vulnerability felt dangerous, like standing on the edge of something vast and unknown.
My body moved before my brain could catch up. All the tension, all the anticipation of these past weeks crashed over me like a wave. I surged forward, my hands finding purchase on his shoulders as I pulled him close. Our lips met with an urgency that surprised even me, my fingers sliding up to tangle in his soft blonde hair.
Harald made a small sound of surprise against my mouth, but his hands found my waist, steadying me as I practically melted into him. His cologne filled my senses - expensive and intoxicating - and his lips were softer than I'd imagined during all those late-night fantasies.
The coffee shop disappeared. The chattering customers, the whirring espresso machines, even my own anxieties about public displays of affection - all of it faded away. There was only Harald, his warm hands on my waist, his breath mingling with mine as I deepened the kiss.
When we finally broke apart, my heart hammering against my ribs, I noticed his cheeks had flushed a beautiful shade of pink. His hair was slightly mussed where my fingers had run through it, and his eyes had darkened to a stormy blue.
"I..." I started to apologize, suddenly aware we were in the middle of a coffee shop, but the words died in my throat. Harald's hands were still on my waist, holding me close, and the smile spreading across his face made my knees weak.
"Been wanting to do that since the night you called," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
Harald's laugh - rich and warm - sends shivers down my spine. His hand reached out, fingers gently cupping my chin. The touch was electric, making my breath catch in my throat. His thumb traced along my jawline with a tenderness that made my heart stutter.
"Me too," he whispers, pulling me closer. "Every night we talked, every message..." His accent wrapped around the words like honey, making them somehow more intimate.
This time when our lips met, it was slower, deeper. No desperate crash of mouths, but a deliberate exploration. His fingers slid from my chin to the nape of my neck, threading through my hair. I melted into him, my hands finding purchase on his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath that soft gray sweater.
The kiss tasted like possibility - like every late-night conversation and shared secret had been leading to this moment. Harald's other hand settled on my lower back, drawing me even closer until I could feel the solid warmth of his body against mine.
