The Timeline

51.

March 17th, 2017:

H : "Hey, Claire. Are you home right now?"

H : "I want to see you."

The idea of playing hard to get lasted for exactly five seconds inside Claire's brain, the illusion of being the one in control between the two of them.

But, as aforementioned, the idea only lasted a couple of seconds. Because Claire had been dying to see Harry, ever since he had walked out of her door after a long kiss, her back pressed against the hallway's wall, trying to keep quiet because her friends were sleeping inside of their rooms. She had missed him since the moment he had driven away inside of his Range Rover, off to his house to throw together a suitcase he hadn't yet prepared and then back to the airport to catch his plane for New York.

And she had missed him each day a bit more, because he hadn't been online much, too wrapped in work, Claire imagined, as his first single as a solo artist was coming up. She had seen the pictures, however, of him meeting fans while out on dinner with Jeff and the rest of his New York gang, she could only imagine. And that had only made her miss him more, because he looked so fucking cute in those picture. So fucking kissable.

And then she had seen all of those pictures at the airport, while he was making his way back to London, and she had thought that he would be hitting her up the moment he was back in his home - after all he had told her he wanted to see her right after he got back, hadn't he?

But he hadn't.

And - although Claire hated to linger on those thoughts too much - she had felt so bad over it, like her heart was slowly shriveling inside of her heart, drying like a raisin. It felt like she was back to her teenage years, standing by her phone, waiting for it to light up with a text from Harry, alerting her of his coming to see her. The phone hadn't lit up, and Claire had felt ridiculous as she waited for him to manifest on her phone's screen. Was she 16 or 21? Hard to guess, based on her behavior those days.

Thank God she had stuff to do, as the publishing house had finally hinted at a different contract, this time for a stand-alone book, and one of the theater companies she had auditioned for had called her back, saying they were interested in seeing her again. And she had Theodore to take care of, and also her sister's studio to go and visit, and the twins to fawn over.

And her friends to avoid, lest they saw that there was something wrong with her, like a pressurized spring. Kind of annoying, having friends who happened to know you better than you did, at times like that.

And then Harry's text had arrived. And Claire's heart had stopped for a second, before starting back up, double speed, making her almost drop the eggs carton she was purchasing, while also looking up 'Why are brown eggs more expensive than white ones' on Google.

Because, since life likes to play games on all of us, the moment Harry had asked Claire if she was home, funnily enough she wasn't. She was in the middle of a grocery store, doing grocery shopping, because their fridge back home had run out of those ingredients that are easy to handle even for someone who has no culinary talent in their hands.

But Harry had texted her. So she'd be home as soon as she could.

Throwing a glance to the contents of her meager shopping cart, Claire winced. Could she really hurry up her grocery shopping and then go back home, simply because Harry had sent her a text asking her if she was home? So what if he waited for a bit? Or would he leave? She had to finish grocery shopping, otherwise both her and her friends would starve in the following days.

H : "I've missed you so much, actress."

And it was also true that they could order take out, if they were really that hungry. Couldn't they?