an: sorry I haven't updated in awhile, I'm trying to every week but I honestly just forget,,
buttttttt anyway, if any of you or going out of dressing up for Halloween, what are you gonna be?
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chapter eight
2044 words
Harry returned only moments later his arms crossed in front of his chest protectively and he nibbled nervously on his bottom lip. His pastel face was flushed white and his eyes overwhelmed with fear and sadness. His eyes followed his feet as they dragged across the wood flooring. He looked as if he had been told that he was about to die. The moment he passed over the threshold from the kitchen to the dining room his composure completely changed. His head went up and a crooked smile went smoothly across his face. His arms fell to his sides and his steps became once again fluent and effortless.
"Everything alright?" my mother chimed the moment she heard Harry's footsteps.
Harry set himself gently in his seat and turned to face my mother with a smile still on his face, "yes. My sister was just wondering when I was going to be home. My mom works the late shift at the gas station tonight."
My mother nodded and returned to her nearly clean plate without saying a word in response. I could tell she was uncomfortable with Harry now. She was more distant when the meal first began. Her focus was more on her food than on her guest. Harry no longer picked at the little bit of spaghetti that was on his plate but simply stared at it blankly.
Clearing my throat I got the attention of both Harry and my mother, "I'll clear the table if you would like."
My mother smiled politely and responded, "No, you have a friend here why don't you and Harry go and visit a bit and I'll clear the table."
I expected that answer my mother was always polite when it came to guests. She knew even if she was uncomfortable that this was rare, to have a boy showing up at the house to see me. I was never the most popular in the male department at my old school so she wasn't going to trump me out here.
"Are you sure Mrs. Dawson?" Harry asked gathering up his silverware onto his plate, "I wouldn't mind helping."
My mother courteously chuckled and stood taking her plate in one hand, "you are a guest here Harry."
My mother took up Harry's plate and made her way into the kitchen slowly. Pushing myself out of the chair I gestured clearly to Harry. He smiled and followed me. Walking into the living room I could feel the air about Harry shift. He was not the perfect, polite individual that just spoke civilly to my mother for the last 45 minutes; he was a teenager, slouchy and relaxed.
"Thank you so much for dinner Gwendolyn." Harry muttered his voice less animated and excited.
I nodded and plopped down on the couch in my living room. Harry did the same, stationing himself on the opposite side so there was significant space between us. The dim lighting of the two side table lamps gave the room a vague romantic feel. Harry's dark features were highlighted the dullness. His pale skin reflexed what little light was given off so his dark tattoos, shirt and hair were an unadulterated contrast.
"So what was wrong with your sister?" I signed turning my body to face him.
I tucked my legs up and underneath me so my back was against the arm rest. Harry turned to face me, one of his arms going to the top cushion of the couch.
"Like I said," he stated softly, "she wanted to make sure that I knew my mom was working the late shift at the gas station."
I tilted my head to the side in disbelief and crossed my arms before my chest. "I saw you when you walked in, you looked like you were just told you were going to die."
