Sweet Tooth [HS]

SIXTY

The next couple of days passed like Max was in a dream. They woke up in Harry's bed that felt like a cloud - with these hot shafts on sunlight blanketing the room like they were inside the sun itself. They took long naps in the cinema room, falling asleep to movies neither of them were paying any attention to. They spent hours lounging outside, playing chess games they got too distracted to finish, cheating at cards, playing handstand games in the pool. They drank iced coffee and fresh lemonade and fruity cocktails; ate green olives and seafood Max had never heard of. They never got dressed. Harry never left Max's side.

It was like the world around them disappeared - like they were the only people on this shimmering island, like they were stranded, but neither of them wanted to escape.

Because Max was so happy. Max felt full to the brim with this love that overflowed out of her like the rolling ocean she could see now, as she opened her eyes after a nap on a sun lounger, as she pulled herself out of dreams filled with dreams of green eyes and slow hands.

She blinked, rubbed her eyes, breathed in the warm, sticky soft heat. It was sometime in the afternoon, surely still early because the sun was high in the sky - beating down on her skin, kissing it. She stretched, she sighed, she smiled. Took in the sound of the cicadas, the birds singing, the lapping of the pool against the patio.

Peace. She felt peaceful.

But then there was a voice, suddenly disrupting the silence.

"Now? Really?"

It was Harry, his voice booming out from somewhere behind her. Max sat up, looking around until her eyes found him. He was smoking a cigarette, facing the house, facing away from her.

"Tom," he was saying into the phone. "I think it's ridiculous. I've come back for a week and they're already on me - I just wanted some time off." He sighed and Max frowned.

Didn't like this sinking feeling that she suddenly got - like their bubble was bursting. Like the island was being attacked.

"Fine," Harry continued. "Fine. I'll be there soon."

Max watched as he hung up the phone, as he flicked his cigarette into an ashtray, as he sighed.

"Harry?" she called, squinting at him through the sunlight.

He turned towards her, sort of jumping in surprise.

"Hey, you," he said, walking towards her. "Did I wake you up?"

He sat down beside her on the lounger, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. "No," she replied, shaking her head. "What was that? Is everything OK?"

Harry sighed again, looking away from her and down at the blank phone in his hand. "It was my manager. My label wants me to come in and record that song I showed them a while back," he ran a hand through his hair.

Max nodded slowly, "O-kay," she said uneasily.

She thought back to that day he'd turned up at her door - when he'd told her he needed to be near her. How he can't be near her because he will have to go away again.

But this was not a tour, she told herself.

This was just recording a song. This was nothing. Yes. This was simple.

"So you're needed in the studio?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

"I'll only be gone for a bit," he reassured her, squeezing her hand. "I think they only want my vocals, today."

Max bit her lip, gnawing on it. "Could I... um... could I come?"

Harry furrowed his brows, "You want to?"