Over Again

Chapter Nine

Days went by faster than I thought because soon enough, I would be flying to New York with Harry to watch their performance at Madison Square Garden. After much convincing, both my parents agreed to let Harry take me away for a week.

“Can we please do something else, I’m so bored!” I tugged at Harry’s sleeve. Harry focused on the TV screen as I annoyed him, having already seen this episode of Friends a million times. I poked at his hips in an attempt to tickle him and he quickly grabbed my wrists, a sly grin forming on his face. I quickly regretted my actions. In a swift movement Harry had managed to pin me down on my own bed, his hands still gripping onto my wrists. It didn’t take much strength to keep me from going anywhere. He bent his elbows and leaned down to kiss the tip of my pale nose.

“What did you have in mind?” He winked, his face still only millimetres from mine. He then proceeded to kiss my neck and tickle me playfully. Like any normal person, I reacted the way anyone would when being tickled – squealing and throwing my limbs everywhere. I somehow escaped Harry’s grip and managed to get about three inches off my bed before he grabbed my ankle. In an attempt to get away, I reached for my bedside table causing the stack of books and papers to fall onto the ground and I fell with them, my ass making a heavy thud. I laughed like a maniac.

“Georgia! You alright up there?” I heard mum call from downstairs.

“I’m fine!” I shouted back. I could just see Harry sitting on my bed, clearly amused. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his mouth wide open. “Stop laughing and get down here!” I giggled, patting the spot beside me on the carpet. For a while we just laid there on the floor, our legs raised up on the edge of my bed while we talked about the sightseeing we could do in New York. We both shifted in our spots, making the papers crunch beneath us. Harry lifted his head of curls up slightly and grabbed the papers he had been lying on. He looked at it for a moment though I realized what it was the second he picked it up by the logo in the top left corner.

“What’s this?” He rotated his head towards me, his dimpled smile relaxing.

“Umm…I was thinking of applying for this culinary school…” I mumbled, my heart racing. I don’t know why I felt so guilty for not telling him about it.

Harry sat up and leaned against my bed, his elbows propped on his knees as he read the application form. “You should apply!” He looked genuinely excited for me.

“I don’t know…” I began. “I probably wont get in. I mean, only a few people who apply actually get through after the tests and classes.”

Harry grabbed my hands to help me sit up. “Babe, you should do it. You’re good enough, I promise. Why do you think I love having you over my apartment so much?”

“Hey!” I punched him playfully.

“No, seriously. You used to tell me how afraid you were of being stuck in this little town your whole life, this cooking thing could lead you places, Georgia!” He said enthusiastically, cuddling me into him. Memories of our childhood suddenly filled my head.

We were lying on the small patch of grass in his backyard on one of the warmer Cheshire days. We were about eleven or twelve years old. I remembered looking up at the blue sky, trying to make pictures from the clouds, when Harry asked me what I wanted to be when we grew up. Of course at that age I had no idea, so I told him, “Any job as long as it isn’t in this boring place.”

That afternoon Harry and I sat on my tiny desk chair, one butt-cheek each, as he helped me fill in the online application form. I took a deep breath and after hovering over the submit button for a good three minutes, I finally clicked it. Harry raised his arm up and I gave him a high-five.