Flowers in the Window || W2S

6

"I know I'm only your uncle," Bryce said as he wiped down a small table in the kitchen area. "And you don't have to talk to me about this if you don't want to. But I think he likes you."

You nodded, pulling your legs up onto the bench you were curled up on. "What makes you think that?"

It wasn't so much denial as it was a need for confirmation. To be honest, there was a little voice in the back of your head that told you Harry might like you back. And that voice had only increased its volume over the months.

Bryce threw his cloth into the sink and rested his elbows on the table thoughtfully. "Well, I think it all comes down to the way he looks at you. Like he's a blind man who's just seen the sun for the first time, or some kind of soldier who's just come home from the battlefield and found peace. He looks at you like that's what you give him. And when we were talking earlier, and I asked him about you, he just looked..so..happy. Happy to talk about you. Happy to know you. And he asked me about you too. He wanted to know about you. And it wasn't creepy-that was a genuine interest." He leaned back slightly and smiled. "He thinks you're very kind and pretty, by the way."

You couldn't move. Couldn't uncurl yourself from your little ball or open your mouth to muster up a reply. Your head was reeling.

Teenage boys were, as a rule, dicks. They didn't at all act like they did in teen movies-all suave and romantic and skilled. It was a rarity to meet one who was just a decent human being in the first place-never mind one as sweet and genuine and hilarious as Harry. And he really felt that way about you? How the hell did you never notice? How the hell did you get so lucky?

Voice shaky, trying not to get emotional, you asked, "Is he still outside?"

Bryce shrugged. "Should be. You should go look."

And with that, you were up and off, weaving your way through the various volunteers and small children with tennis rackets and old ladies demanding more jam for their scones. You reached the huge glass doors to the shelter and shoved them open, being greeted first by the light of the setting sun, and then by the boy you were desperately hoping to find out there.

"Hey."

"Hey," you replied, seating yourself next to him on the steps. "Still need a breather?"

He turned to look at you, expression adding a strange, pleasant feeling to your stomach. "Not really. I was just about to come find you, actually-I have to go."

Whatever confession or confrontation was building in your throat died the second those words left his mouth, and your little smile was replaced with a frown. "How come?"

"My aunt needs me. She's always breaking her phone in one way or another-middle aged mums, right?"

His half hearted attempt at a joke brought the smile back, but smaller than before. Because you could see it in his eyes straight away-he'd just lied to you.

He stood, and you were torn. Torn between letting him go and convincing him to stay-stay so you could root out the lie, stay so you could tell him how you felt. But Harry once again killed your chances when he turned around in front of you, reached over and gently gathered both of your hands in his.

"Listen, I really appreciate everything you've done for me, okay? You've helped me out so much with English, you've taken me round the shelter today and I've had such a great time with it. You're just the sweetest, kindest person I've ever known. You're lovely. The loveliest. And it's people like you that make me glad we have a whole superhero to deal with all the crime that goes on in this city, because it makes me feel better, knowing that someone as incredible and beautiful as you is protected like that." You could have sworn there were tiny tears in his eyes as he spoke. "Just..please be safe, alright? And please keep talking to me after the tutoring thing is over."