Paperboy. (h.s. au)

14.

For the rest of the day, I pace and pace, both physically and mentally. My mind carries me faster than my legs, however. What does Harry need to talk to me about? Is he okay? What if he's not? How am I able to help him, and why is he coming to me to talk? I have too many questions and I can only hope that they'll be answered later. I just really hope everything is okay. Since he radiates smiles and happiness, I suspect that when he's not, he can radiate negativity. Which I don't need, I can do that all on my own.

I'm most likely overthinking this. He probably just wants to hang out, which is also fine.

Other than walking in circles and staring at walls, I've been straightening up a little bit around the house. Thankfully, I don't work today, so I have time to do all this. If Harry's coming over, I don't want him to think we're slobs based on the looks of our house. I feel kind of excited, nothing too interesting has happened to me lately. Or all summer. I start in the kitchen, wiping down basically everything. The counters are shining and neat, the fridge is clear of clutter-inside and out- and I even swept the floor. All the while, David was sitting around asking me a million questions.

"Why are you cleaning?"

"I'm having someone over."

"Who?"

"A friend."

"Which friend?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is he coming over?"

"How do you know it's a he?"

"You don't clean for Lily or Victoria..."

"Well, I have a new friend."

"Is it the boy from the pool?"

I don't answer.

He stopped talking after muttering a little extra. Or maybe I tuned him out. Either way, I wasn't listening. I'm far too preoccupied with everything else.

It's not like Harry is some crush of mine. He's not scary, he's not mean or rude. I have zero reasons to be nervous about his coming over tonight. But I am somehow.

Maybe it's the fact that he's a guy, and the only guys who come over these days are David's friends. They're all eight, nine or ten. So no, not intimidating. Or maybe I'm just an overly-anxious person. Maybe it's because I'm often the therapist for my friends, but I know he's not coming to me for any of those kinds of problems. I don't know what to expect. Maybe it's all three. The point is: I'm nervous. But an excited nervous.

I need a nap.

I've been checking my phone all day just in case Harry texts or calls telling me he's changed his mind. I wouldn't be upset if he has. I don't mean that in a rude way, but a night with my family is always nice. Then again, I've had plenty of those. Maybe a friend coming over is a good thing. My phone starts ringing, and I nearly jump out of my skin. It's only my mother.

I let out a big breath, "Hi, mom."

"Robin, I'm coming home now. I should be home around 5. Did you do everything I asked?" I really have- and more. For once.

"Yep, I'm pretty much finished. What's for dinner?" I wonder if Harry will have eaten, or if he's expecting food to be here. I wish I had a play by play. I need a written out plan of what's happening; springing these surprises on me makes me crazy.