book club

nine || video games

"Come on, Harry. Time to go."

Harry looks down at me, a small smile on his lips. His long fingers extend to tuck a piece of my russet brown hair behind my ear. My cheeks flush for a grand total of three times that night, and as hard as I try to not appear flustered, I know I will never win.

"Goodnight, Lea. See you at the book club." He says.

Harry waves once, and then shoves his hands in his pockets and walks around the house.

Once he's gone, I plop back into the cracked plastic of the swing set and lean against the chain link. My thoughts are scrambled up like my breakfast eggs, and every figment has Harry's face imprinted in them. He makes my palms sweat, my cheeks blush, and my legs weak. But, why? So far he has done nothing but thoroughly annoy me.

It's Wednesday, book club day. My mother, beautiful as I was she assured me, forced me to wear a dress. It's a knee-length white shift with little blue flowers sewn into all over the fabric.

"I'm wearing my sneakers." I announce.

My mom rolls her eyes and attempts to persuade me to wear a pair of crisp white sandles, though she knows I will refuse.

"Alright, alright. Just get your shoes on and brush your hair." She sighs.

I do as I am told, just this once of course, and we drive to the church.

The hippie is waiting outside, and I go through the same introduction as last time. I duck inside the church, but nobody turns to stare this time. They're all engaged in a conversation with someone else. Harry looks up, and gestures me towards him.

"Hi Liam." I say.

Liam smiles at me and goes back to picking the canvas of his sneakers.

"What, no hello to me?" Harry asks.

I shrug and sit in my chair. "I guess not." I reply.

Harry smiles and shakes his head. "That's not very nice or mature." He says.

I shrug again and look at the dark red polish on my nails.

"I know."

"So, we're playing that game are we?" He grins.

I furrow my brow in mock confusion. "What game? I'm not very athletic or logically inclined." I say.

Harry rests one of his long skinny legs atop the other and folds his hands behind his big head. "Really? Not athletic? Jesus, have you seen the great set of legs you have? Do you run?" He teases.

"Shut up." I mutter.

"Is Lea Golding blushing?" Harry asks.

His green eyes are alight with a firefly like spark. Golden flecks are dancing in a swamp of green. His skin is tan, it looks like it's glowing. His lips are plump and pink, teeth bright white and breath minty.

He must be some sort of Greek god.

What's wrong with me? I go from ignoring him, to engaging in banter with him, to mentally giving him god-like status.

"Um, stop talking. We're about to start." I blurt.

Harry frowns and then leans back in his chair. I can feel his eyes on me, through the whole book club.

Again, after the book club, I'm standing in the dirt road waiting for my mother. Harry's here, Liam is too.

"Go ahead, ask her." Harry whispers to Liam.