carpe diem
It's all a tangle, a mess, but you cannot avoid smiling. After all, everything that has to do with him is always messy and always tangled. His hair, for example, is a clear evidence of his apparent lack of control and order. He is a rule-breaker and you love him for it.
(You are still unsure whether love is the appropriate word. Maybe like would be better, for the time being.)
He suddenly brings you closer, your surprise evident in your widened eyes. He grins and smirks. It kills you really, because now you want him desperately. You tell him so. His shocked face is priceless. But then the moment is gone and his devilish smile is, once again, back in place. You won't be able to resist any longer; he makes you lose any self-control you had left.
(It's the dimples, you tell yourself. You often wish you could reach out and touch them, wandering whether that simple gesture may grant you complete access to the mystery that is James Potter, his essence, his soul.)
He complies, at first gently, but then it all becomes messy and tangled, as you knew it would. You prefer it that way.
Somehow, it begins to feel awkward. You choose to push that feeling away and enjoy the moment.
Carpe Diem, Carpe Diem, Carpe Diem.
You hold tight to this mantra of yours, as if it were a safe-conduct that could miraculously guide you through this unfamiliar and hostile territory. Meanwhile the kisses become more frantic, the need more desperate, and the situation more bizarre. He tells you he loves you. He tells you you're beautiful. He tells you he respects you. Your mind is racing and you become incredibly self-conscious: your hair looks dirty, your arms too hairy, your legs too chubby, your breasts too small.
(At the time you can't help but wish he won't notice that extra treacle tart you eat this morning, or the box of Bertie Botts you had with your friends during lunch or even the chocolate frog Remus gave you some minutes ago)
Still, two words keep bouncing over that wobbly brain of yours, preventing you from turning back.
Carpe Diem, Carpe Diem, Carpe Diem.
So you let go. Regardless, a thousand and one excuses cross your mind: too soon; I'm not ready; he won't be interested anymore.
(You almost laugh at the thought. Who would have thought that Lily Evans would actually want James Potter's attention?)
But then, as if sensing your nervousness and insecurities, he holds you tight and whispers incoherent sweet-nothings to your ear. Yet, it is recomforting, and for a while, even reassuring. You make your choice; you are past the point of no return. You tell him you're ready, and his grip tightens around you. Before you know it, it's happening and all you can feel now is pain.
Pain, Pain, Pain.
And of course, you regret it. You think you should have waited; after all, you're still unsure whether you love him for god's sake!
But then-
Oh!
Yes, you definitively love this boy.
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