*When you see the 🎶, play Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran if you're into that sorta thing. It will help set the mood for that scene if you know what I mean...Ooo that rhymed. Gucci.
"Did you have fun with Liam?" Mom asks from the kitchen. She's busy preparing dinner and the twins were sitting at the bar stools peeling oranges.
"Yeah, I did. Mom?"
"Mhmm?" she responds, stirring a pot of what looked like spaghetti.
"When is Harry's family moving in?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you," she wipes her forehead and then turns to the twins who are now arranging the newly sliced oranges on a plate, "No Daisy you can't eat the peel," she scolds and then turns back to me. "They move in this weekend. I talked to Anne yesterday and she said Harry hasn't been able to stop talking about you since. Why haven't you called him?"
"Because I didn't know what to say," I mutter. The truth was I had really wanted to, but I keep second-guessing myself. I didn't want to sound pushy or annoying, "Why hasn't he called me?"
"Why don't you call and find out."
"Fine!" I walk out of the kitchen to go up to my room.
"Dinner will be ready in an hour so don't be up there for too long," she calls after me.
Entering my room, I flop onto my perfectly made bed and pull out my phone. I stare at Harry's contact for a long time. I could do this. Why was I being so weird? I click on the message button and after reading and rereading my text about five times I press send.
Louis: Hi Harry, haven't heard from you in a while. How's it going?
Not even two minutes later the little text bubble popped up to indicate he was typing.
Harry: Hi!
That wasn't exactly an answer to my question but maybe he just started all his conversations like that.
Louis: Are you excited to move? My mom told me you guys move in tomorrow.
Harry: Ya.
Louis: Would you still like me to come over and help?
Harry: Ya.
What was up with all these one-word answers? Did he not want to talk with me? Mom said that Anne had told her he couldn't stop talking about me, but this felt so strange.
Louis: Call me?
The call came through immediately as if he had been waiting for me to ask. "Hi, Loubear!" Harry's cheerful voice said through the speaker. He sounded adorable.
"Hi Harry, how's it going?" I try again.
"Pretty terrible to be honest," he sighs, "The meds are making me feel awful and I'm tired and I need to pack up my room but have no idea where to start and my mom is too busy getting the car packed up and my dad and sister left because Gemma always had to leave when I'm having a flare so I'm just in my room right now. It's not actually my room, it's my Aunt's guest room. It smells like mothballs."
The sudden change from one-word answers to basically a life update caught me off guard, "Wow," is all I said. Stupid Louis, out of all the replies you could come up with? "That was a lot, why didn't you just answer through text?"
There was a brief moment of silence where I thought he had hung up, "Harry?"
"Sorry Louis, I didn't mean to be rude," his voice sounds small and ashamed.
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We Had the Right Kind of Love // L.S.
Teen Fictionpla·ton·ic love /pləˈtänik ləv/ noun 1. Love conceived by Plato as ascending from passion for the individual to contemplation of the universal and ideal 2. A close relationship between two persons in which sexual desire is nonexistent or has been su...