Twirling a strand of hair round my forefinger, I nibbled the inside of my cheek restlessly. Exams were starting next Monday and the last, desperate attempts at revising were now due. Somehow I'd managed to convince my mum that I so very greatly needed Harry's help in those few days, which wasn't a lie at all. Despite the many times we'd gotten distracted from the French topics to the French kissing, Harry had really helped me improve my language skills in these past few months. I was far more fluent and safe at speaking and writing, as well as my knowledge of all kinds of exceptions and all that nonsense.
"When is Harry supposed to be here again?", my mother suddenly asked.
"Four."
"Well, then he's already 6 minutes late. I never realized just how tardy he always was.", she then said, cocking an eyebrow, obviously unimpressed.
"Please, mum. Try and be civil.", I pleaded, collecting my hair and pulling it up into a bun.
I knew she had every intention of making this awkward for us all, despite the conversation that her and Harry had had a few days ago.
I jumped to my feet as a knock erupted from the front door, practically tripping up as I dashed to greet him.
"Thank GOD you're here" I mumbled as I quickly gripped his waist before my mother had a chance to see.
"Why, what's u-"
"Nice of you to make it, Harry. It's not as if my daughter has exams next week."
I bit my tongue as my mum's bitterly sarcastic tone cut Harry off.
"Sorry, I had an essay to hand in..." he muttered back in retaliation, and I could see anger boiling in his eyes at the way she'd spoken to him; trying his best to keep his cool as I widened my eyes at him.
"Breathe" I mouthed, before turning from him and walking towards the dining room, where I knew my mother would have her eyes on us at all times.
"I hope you don't mind, Harry", my mum began, "but I'll be sitting in on this one. Just to make sure you do actually get some work done."
She smiled sarcastically as she glared through dark eyes, and I couldn't help but groan with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment as her words caused Harry to flush a deep shade of pink.
"We always get work done, Mrs. Manza.", he then said as he placed his notes on the table, this time sitting opposite me. The edgy tone to his voice was more than obvious.
"Well we'll see about that next week, then, won't we?", my mother replied with a sour smile, before also taking a seat at the table.
"Yes, yes we will." I was the one to be doing the talking this time, and I returned the smile - just as sourly - before grabbing a pen. I saw Harry nibbling the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from smiling.
"Right.", he stated, more confidently now, "Translate this please, Soph."
It was like an instinct as I smiled warmly in retaliation to him calling me by the shortened version of my name he knew I loved hearing; especially from him. My mother's reaction to this, however, was rather surprised as she seemed to whitness just how effortlessly intimate and content Harry and I were when we were around each other.
*
"Okay, so that went well." Harry said with a grin as he stuffed his notes back into his bag. My mother seemed impressed at how much we'd actually gotten done in just an hour. "Uh, yes, very nice.", she replied, with a nod.
