Pirouette [h.s.]

chapter 20

// You feel like city life, //

// Apple pie baked just right. //

// Home is wherever you are tonight. //

"Apple Pie" -Lizzy McAlpine

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"What are your plans for Thanksgiving?" Harry had asked, sounding a little like he was bouncing off of the walls, excitement coursing through his tone. "Do you have work?"

I laughed a little through the phone, twisting a piece of hair around my finger, "No, Dino's is closed and Lacey said Claudette's giving us off for the holiday. I'm just staying home and avoiding the inevitable guilt phone call from my parents."

He scoffed, "Well that won't do. Come celebrate with us."

The cackle that flew from my lips originated deep in my belly, brewing and exploding over the top. Volcanic.

"What's so funny, Bee?"

"Harry...you're British." I tried hard to quell the laughter, Harry's voice even and serious.

"Yeah, and?" He scoffed again and I could nearly picture him rolling his eyes, a habit I noticed he was starting to pick up from me, "We like food. We like family. Just say you'll come over?"

Suddenly the weight of his question hit me full speed, like a semi-truck collision, and the fragments of my car were no match.

Us.

"Wait...to your house?"

"...Yeah?" Harry trailed off, his voice raising up at the end to almost a squeak. As if the words spewing like a waterfall from his mouth weren't from excitement at all, but from nerves.

"You want me to meet your family?"

Harry hummed.

"You want me to meet...Nate?"

I heard the way his breath caught in his throat, quickly followed by a gentle cough, feigning relaxation, "I want you to meet all of them. Please? I'll beg, pretty baby, don't make me beg."

The weight that dropped on my shoulders was enough to leave my lungs feeling winded, but there was no way I was going to deny him. "Okay, I'll come."

I wring my hands out, smoothing them against my thighs, the memory of the phone call that lead up to my demise only fueling the storming butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Butterflies at war. Angry, loud soldiers with razors for wings and tasers for antennae, buzzing violent. I shut off the ignition to my car, grimacing at how loudly it had rattled into the driveway. I genuinely contemplated biking my way here, after I insisted that I didn't need Harry to pick me up, but the thought of showing up sweaty on my old chipped bike spread more embarrassment through my stomach than the few bucks it cost to put some gas in my tank.

Their house is gorgeous and huge, and I can't help but stare at it in amazement, compared to my ratty apartment. On the back side of the house is a very clear outcropping that I'm sure is Harry's space. It's so sweet that they did that for him; that they made sure to give him his privacy, with all of the challenges they've had to go through. At the same time as it warms my heart to be able to see their love so openly like that, it digs a small dagger into my chest knowing my parents would never do something similar.

On the passenger seat beside me rests an apple pie that I had whipped up earlier when I was trying not to spiral over tonight. I was pacing circles around the water bucket while my brain manifested every single bad scenario that could possibly happen tonight. And I knew if I didn't distract myself, the spiral would never end. So...apple pie.