That morning started off like any other, except for the fact my dream kind of made me paranoid the whole day. I smiled softly at the text I had recieved from Harry the night before, but for some odd reason, I didn't reply. Maybe it was just the mood I was in. I walked across the bedroom floors, trying not to wake my mom as I cringed to the sound of squeaks that echoed in the hall. As I walked slower, they only became louder. Finally reaching the kitchen, I helped my self to a warm cup of coffee that I made and sat down to read the morning's newspaper. Not many girls my age read the paper, but that didn't change my mind about it. I quite enjoyed it actually. The coffee I drank carefully burned my tounge as it made it's way down my throat, which stung a little. I could hear my phone ringing in the other room, jumping a little at the sound. I ran, trying not to let my feet hit the ground too hard, and picked up my phone. It was Harry. "Hello?" I said. "Hey, Avery. I was wondering what your plans were for today? Are you busy?" He sounded a little tired, like he had just woken up. "Oh yeah my mum told me that her and Anne were going shopping, so she said I could hang out at your house if I wanted to, is that alright?" I asked. "Of course. Can't wait, see ya later." I could imagine him smiling on the other end of the phone. "See ya." I hung up. Later that day when my mom had finally gotten out of bed and willed herself to look decent, I got ready to go over to Harry's. "Bye Mum!" I said, hugging her. "Later baby." When she left, I slipped on an old t-shirt that I had gotten from one of our school events, some skinny jeans, and white converse. I didn't really want to look like I was impressing Harry. I mean, he was my friend after all, not some guy I had hooked up with. As I combed by long brown hair out, I noticed that there had been a bright spot of red paint on my shirt. I shrugged. Finally I stepped out the door and walked to his house, which was only a few blocks away. Walking around the corner once more, then taking a left, I reached Harry's home. I knocked on the door three times, almost a little impatient. There he stood, smiling at me, his locks of curls falling over his eyes, and his dimples showing. "Come on in," He said, gesturing a hand towards his living room. "We have a lot to catch up on."
