Gold Rush

Chapter 4

"I have late night conversations with the moon; he tells me about the sun and I tell him about you."
                                            -S.L. Gray

For the next week, Harry and I went to lunch every day, taking turns picking the restaurants. It was actually quite strange not seeing him on the weekend. I wonder what he did during his free time. You would think things like that would come up in our conversations, but we always end up talking about random stuff. I hardly even know what his interests are.

I do know that he went to Oxford for his masters, that he would never eat veal despite loving steak, and that his nickname in middle school was Hazza. He didn't explain why they called him that, just that if I ever did our lunches would come to an end. That didn't stop me from doing it. I easily got on his nerves by only referring to him as Hazza for the rest of the lunch. Despite his threat, he was still there the next day to come get me at 2. I laughed as he stepped out of the elevator and he rolled his eyes knowing exactly why I was laughing.

"I'll never tell you anything even slightly embarrassing again," He said to me

"Oh come on, you don't see me calling you," I looked around and made sure nobody was around before I whispered, "Hazza," then continuing in my normal tone, " when anyone is around. It's our little secret. Besides, I'll tell you something embarrassing about me if it makes you feel better."

He rolled his eyes at the name yet again and assured me that knowing something embarrassing about me would ease his own embarrassment.

"Ok, but you can't tell anyone. Promise me," I say.

"Only if you don't tell anyone about that god awful name. The last thing I need is for it to catch on again," he replies.

"I already told you I wouldn't tell a soul."

"Ok then your secret is safe with me, I promise."

"Fine. So when I was in middle school I had a crush on this kid who was like a year older than me. Anyways, our school was doing a fashion show and all the girls from my class were walking down this stage while the rest of the school watched us, right?" I started.

"Oh God of course your preppy ass middle school had a fashion show."

"Just shut up, that's not the point of the story," I waved him off.

"So it's almost time to walk down this runway and I'm freaking out but feeling pretty confident in my sequin skirt with a tulle lining. I start walking pretty blindly because of the spotlight shining on my face. I'm marching right up to where my crush is sitting, ready to strike a pose for him, and all of a sudden, my feet were up in the air. One of the older girls had stuck her hand on the catwalk and tripped me. That's not even the worst part though. I flew right off the stage and directly into the crowd. I took a ton of people out with me and broke my poor Spanish teacher's ankle," I finished reciting the worst moment of my life with my hands covering my eyes.

"No," he shook his head in disbelief.

"The whole school called me the human bowling ball for the rest of the year."

With that final detail, he couldn't help but start laughing. He covered his mouth trying to hide the fact that he clearly finds it hilarious, but it doesn't work. I slightly shoved him and said, "It was the worst day of my life!"

"Fucks sake, Gigi, that's way worse than mine. I just have a bad nickname." He said, still slightly out of breath from laughing.

For the rest of the week whenever we'd see each other he'd slightly chuckle in remembrance, and I'd call him Hazza in return.