This Was Home [h.s.]

| 9. HOME |

  His car was the one that made the most sense. We already used half of the gas for his anyway. Which also meant we now sat at about half a tank. This calmed my nerves even more.

The drive this time was much more tolerable. I still felt on edge, but for different reasons now. That original excitement had manifested into anxiety, causing my leg to bounce against the floorboards. Harry gave me a look for it at one point, but didn't press further. I mentally thanked him for that.

I just wanted to be home, but I also would have to explain to my sick mom and little sister why I had this random guy with me now.

I still had no idea what I would say. We had been on the road toward the house for a little over 3 hours. Anytime now we would be pulling into the house's driveway and that thought alone caused my leg to bounce even stronger. I settled on the fact I would just figure it out when I got there and hopefully they would understand.

Once I knew that everyone was okay, the rest would settle out afterwards. The most important part was getting them what they needed, including the medicines Harry had found which rolled in my hands.

I absentmindedly played with the pill bottles at the thought. A couple of them were in the standard orange pharmacy bottles, the rest in regular white ones. The labels were so worn I couldn't figure out the person's whole name on them. It was something that started with an "S"—whatever, it didn't matter.

"You alright?"

I looked up, snapping out of my trance. Harry looked at me with his eyebrows raised. His glance went from my face to the pill bottles I had been examining.

"Oh–," a nervous laugh escaped out, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just ready to see them I guess."

He nodded in understanding and turned back toward the road, "Makes sense."

He beat his thumb against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song. We had almost made it through all 4 of the CDs he had so miraculously found, with Fleetwood Mac's Rumours on its turn. It was a classic and I wanted to play it first, but Harry insisted on saving it for last.

I still thought we should have played it first, but whatever. That wasn't a battle I wanted to waste my energy on this time. The anxiety wasn't really letting me enjoy the music anyway.

"So what's your story?" He asked, glancing back at me from the corner of his eye as to not distract himself further from the road. His question took me off guard.

"My story? I thought you were just anti-story earlier today? You change your mind that quick?" A tinge of annoyance strained in my voice.

He let out a laugh, an actual laugh.

"No no," he turned the knob down for the music, "I meant—your story for when I come home with you."

I had started to lose track on how many times I could embarrass myself in front of him.