Paperboy. (h.s. au)

09.

The only thing I feel when I see Harry's bike leaning against my car is confusion, maybe even a little bit of anger. Why is he here? How did he know I was here? Shouldn't he be working? Questions run through my mind like runners during a 100 meter sprint.

Seeing him after last night will leave me feeling embarrassed, as well. Suddenly I feel like stalking home at ten o'clock by myself just to prove that I could while they all watched me wasn't my best idea. I instantly regret asking Harry to take me home numerous times, and him saying no. I feel my face flush and make a face to myself. 

I open up my car door and put the groceries inside. After this, I carefully wheel the bike and its bag of papers into the grassy area next to the parking lot. I make sure it's safe there where no cars can run it over, and go back to my own car.

As soon as I shut my door, I see a tall figure leaving the store, waving his hands at me. I sigh and groan, then roll my window down after a bit of thought.

"Wait!" Harry shouts my way. I turn off my car and wait for him to come to me. He better have a good excuse for making me see him after last night.

Once he gets to my truck, his face is calm, resting. It usually is. His eyebrows lay across his forehead, no lines are on it, and his arms are crossed. "Top of the morning to you," he greets with smugness in his voice. He yawns shortly after and I sigh down at him. Unfortunately, Harry has a persistent way about him, so I'm forced to interact with him. It's almost like he knew I would try to run. "What, no hello?"

I continue to down up at him with my head cocked to the side, eyes squinted. Slowly, I say, "Hello, Harry."

"There it is," he grins. "How has your morning been?"

Why is he trying to make small talk? "Mines been wonderful, shouldn't you be working?"

He takes off his black sunglasses, revealing his emerald eyes to me. They really are breathtaking. I look to the side and pretend to watch the traffic on the street to distract myself. "Yes, I am technically supposed to be working. But, I saw your truck here and thought I'd stop to say hi." He pauses, raising a hand to his curls, "Wait a second." He looks around in confusion, "Where's my bike?" He turns his puzzled gaze to me.

I take a deep breath and brave his eyes again. Looking up, I see that he is looking right at me, almost waiting for me to look back. When I do, he smirks and pushes his hands into the pockets of his gym shorts.

"It's in the grass over there where I put it." I tell him. He sighs and jogs over to get it. He then wheels it back to me as I turn the car back on again. I notice the old brown bag of newspapers at his feet that is half-empty, showing that he still has a long way to go.

"Aren't you pretty late? You're usually done by," I do the math in my head, "an hour ago." I wouldn't want him to get into trouble because he wanted to say hi.

"Right you are, Robin. I am pretty late. Which leads me to my second order of business." He  moves to my side of the car from the passenger's window with his bike. We are both observing his old yellow bike. When I pay more attention to it, it doesn't even look that old. Maybe it's just the color. I wonder why he chose yellow. I'd let him for more of a blue or black kind of person.

"Why'd you pick yellow?" I ask aloud.

"That's all they had left, and I needed a bike."

"Ah."

I nod and he rocks back and forth on his heels. He blows air through his lips and puts his hand on my car door. I feel a spark in my chest at the proximity when he does and ease away from him without thinking. He turns his head to look up at me with an amused expression upon his relaxing face.