oh, anna [-hs]

when u love somebody

53.

Fuck. I regret this.

I didn't feel this way on the plane ride over. I didn't feel this way at his house yesterday. I didn't even feel like this on the car ride here.

But he just rang the doorbell, and now my hands are sweating like crazy. Which is really annoying because I'm holding a stack of wrapped gifts. They're starting to get slippery. And I'm fighting the urge to shiver because suddenly I'm so cold. There's adrenaline rushing through me. I need to sit and bounce my leg for an hour.

Harry coughs into his fist. His other hand is loosely gripping a bouquet of velvet red roses and baby's breath. He wanted to get pansies but honestly I think they might be the ugliest flower ever. I persuaded him to buy those instead. It was quite the spectacle, us muttering under our breath as we fought over flowers in the supermarket.

Probably the stupidest argument we've ever had. But I won, and was pretty proud of myself. Now I wonder why I thought I knew better. I've never met his mother. What if she loves pansies?

He gives me a grin and reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. I return the attention with a shaky nod. The door flies open.

"Oh thank Christ. We were worried you wouldn't remember how to get here, it's been so long."

"Mum," Harry rolls his eyes at the voice. I take in the woman before me.

Straight brown hair, red lipstick that matches the shade of roses in Harry's hand, a black blouse and gold necklace. She wipes her hands across her jeans. Her gaze turns over to me and she smiles.

"And you're Quinn. Oh, I'm thrilled to meet you. I've heard so much from Harry."

"Mum," Harry mutters again under his breath, nervously scratching his neck.

"Oh! Are these for the house? Lovely," she takes the bouquet from Harry's hand and carefully inspects it. "These are gorgeous." I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Let them come inside," A younger voice calls from within the house. She laughs and nods.

"Alright, yeah, you better come in," she steps back and opens the entrance to us.

Harry offers the doorway to me. I swallow and climb the step, walking into the warmth of his home. Or his mom's home anyway. I highly doubt he spent anytime growing up here. He probably bought it for her. I feel him follow in after me, and the door clicks shut.

There's a young woman stretched out on the couch. She has a glass of red wine in her hand. Her hair is also brown. Her smile is bright.

"Quinn! It's so nice to meet you!" She gestures with the glass in her hand.

Harry reaches for some of the presents I'm holding, lightening the load. He gestures with his head toward the younger woman. "My sister, Gemma."

"Nice to meet you," I smile awkwardly and follow Harry toward the tree, the remaining presents in my own arms. We rest them under the branches, which smell so strongly of pine it almost makes me sick. I kick off my shoes and peel back my jacket, leaving them on the floor by the entrance.

"Harry tells us you make music videos?" His mom sings from behind me. I turn and wipe the sweat from my palms down the front of my skirt.

"Uh, yes," I have to think about it. "I like filming other things too, but people only want to pay me for music videos it seems."

This makes them both laugh. Harry's mom curls up onto the couch next to her daughter and reaches for her own wine stem I didn't see earlier. Harry's hand brushes over my shoulder and startles me.