Hidden [h.s]

SEVENTY-EIGHT

"I can do it, I swear."

"Sure."

"No, really. I'll show you!"

"Harry-"

Before I can say anything else, Harry's up off the couch and making his way to the kitchen.

"No, this is safety hazard," I say, shaking my head at him as he searches for my knife drawer.

"You underestimate me, Rosie."

"Harry, just because the guy on America's Got Talent could juggle knives doesn't mean you can."

"Want to bet?" He grins and slides open the knife drawer.

"You will end up killing one or both of us if you try to juggle those, and I don't want to die because of an idiotic Brit who thinks he can juggle knives."

Harry rolls his eyes. "I'm not idiotic."

"Alright, fine. You're not idiotic, you're just standing beside my knife drawer claiming you can juggle sharp knives because you saw some moron on America's Got Talent do it." I cross my arms over my chest and Harry let's out a laugh.

"Fine, i'll do it with fruit, then."

"Don't hurt my fruit."

"Have you no faith in my juggling?"

"None whatsoever."

Harry reaches into the fruit bowl on the kitchen island, retrieving a green pear and two ripe red apples.

"Look, I'm good at this. It's one of my many talents."

"You and I have different definitions of talent."

Harry wrinkles his nose at me and tosses an apple into the air, then the other apple, and finally the pear. At first, it seems that he's actually going to juggle them. It doesn't last long, however.

The fruits come crashing down onto the floor, rolling around as they hit the tile.

"You idiot!" I can't help but laugh, watching as Harry rolls his eyes.

"I'm out of practice."

We bend down to pick up the fruit, examining them for damage.

"They're all bruised," I pout.

"Hey, at least I didn't do it with knives."

I snort, shaking my head and putting the bruised apples and pear back into the fruit bowl.

"I bet the guy wasn't really juggling. It must have been a hologram or something, because you can't juggle knives." Harry scoffs.

"Don't you throw it in the air a certain way, or something?"

"I wouldn't know, since you didn't let me try it with knives."

"Good thing, too, or we'd have a bigger problem than just bruised fruit."

Harry laughs. "I don't know, bruised fruit is a pretty big problem."

"You are an idiotic Brit."

"I'm your idiotic Brit," he says, grinning childishly.

I blush and roll my eyes, trying to hide my smile.

He wraps an arm around my waist, his fingers digging into my side. I squeal with laughter and move away from him, but he's too fast and lifts me over his shoulder, throwing me gently down onto the couch. He climbs onto me, laughing.