Promising Memoirs | soft h.s.

Chapter 7.

*

Aubrey.

"Harry, you ready?" I spoke from the living room. I waited patiently for the man who I was so nervous to get to know again. It was only a matter of time. Deciding not to change from what I was wearing, just changed the shirt under my sweater. Wait — my? No. His sweater.

Harry popped out of the room a minute later, clad in those same jeans and a light grey hoodie. His hair, was still a tiny bit wet from the shower he took. There was no doubt that he looked really good — and that was going to cause problems.

Aubrey, stop. You're only going to make this harder for yourself.

"Well, who knew girls got ready faster than guys?" I smiled.

"Um — I had to take a call." His brows were furrowed in slight irritation. "Ready?"

I simply nodded in reply, unsure whether or not to vocally speak. I just hoped that the Harry I encountered in the not-so-very-near past, was back. I wasn't fond of him — not at all.

In silence, the two of us made our way outside, running towards the vehicle as to not get soaked under the rain. Once we got in the car, he shook his head, splashing me with water. He looked like a shaggy dog that was drying himself off. I wiped my face with the sleeve of the sweater and he laughed; and that, was something that warmed my heart — it always did. With an entertained grin on his face, he shrugged, moving on from apologising, which only made he smack his arm lightly.

"Care to drive?" He looked at me just after he started the car.

"That's a joke, right?" I asked with a dumbfounded expression. "I'd get us both in an accident faster than you can count to ten."

"You have a licence, no?"

"Yes, but —"

"So, what's the problem?"

"The roads are in reverse here and I can't drive a stick-shift, which refer to my point I made about getting us in an accident. Even in a trash can."

"It's a bin; but I think you're just making excuses." He eyed me, seriously.

"Harry, how's about I give you twenty bucks to shut up and drive." I replied in the same tone and he simply chuckled.

"All right, fine; but I'm not accepting the money. I'll think of another form of payment later." He winked and gave me a cheeky smile. The hue of crimson rushed to my cheeks as I felt them blush from his words. I didn't know what to respond, so I just smiled in response. Harry took another glance at me, looking down at what I was wearing, a smirk formed on his face, but stayed silent, before he put the car in second gear and drove off, the shower from the skies surrounding us entirely.

We drove around the city for just under an hour, when Harry stopped at a café somewhere just outside the city. Thankfully the rain had let up slightly, the mid-tone of greys mixed into a palette above us.

Entering the little café, there were older ladies, each wearing navy aprons that welcomed Harry with open arms. It was clear that they've known each other for ages. I took a proper glance at the name, which seemed familiar — The Twickenham Bakery. It was a very cosy place, seeming family owned. Lots of classic oak woodwork was used in the most refined and rustic way possible. Shelves in glass enclosed cases, held all of the baked goods, and traditional coffee pots, were filled with the delectable drink. It was all simply perfect.

"Harry, it's been ages! A couple years or so, might have to give your ear a little pulling so you can learn not to do that again." One of the older ladies, with some greying hair, kindly scolded him.