book club

fifteen || kiss of whiskey

Heart Out - The 1975

The City - The 1975

I'm not sure how long we laid there, his nose in my neck, my arms wrapped around his torso. I drifted in and out of sleep over what seemed to be hours, or maybe it was minutes. When I open my eyes, Harry is leaning over me, brushing his thumb over my cheek.

"Hi." He grins.

I brush the sleep from my eyes and look towards the window. The sky is grey.

"What time is it?" I ask.

Harry casts a guilty glance towards the window. "Only six in the afternoon but your mom called a few times." He mumbles.

I mutter a curse and tug the sheets off my clothed legs, scrambling for my shoes. Harry watches as I rush around the room, his expression neutral, eyes following my every move. Plaid cotton pants are loose on his hips and an oversized grey sweatshirt covers the rest of his body.

"I'm going to be in so much trouble." I groan.

Harry stands and beckons me with his hand, pulling me into his chest when I venture closer.

"Make up a story. Stay for the night." He says into my hair.

"I can't." I reply, slipping out of his embrace and reaching for my phone.

"Lea, please." His voice strikes a chord in my chest.

"I can't I- I don't do stuff like this." I say quietly, shamefully.

Harry frowns. "I only asked you to stay over. Nothing more."

I sigh. "I know, but you know how this looks," I say, gesturing between us. "I don't want your family to think odd of me and I don't want to lie to my parents."

"Who cares what my family thinks? We know what this is, not them, it doesn't matter. And as for your parents, a little white lie never hurt anyone." He smiles in an attempt to brighten my spirit, and it works.

Within minutes my phone is pressed to my ear as I openly lie to my mother about my whereabouts. Harry coaches me the entire call, mouthing the lie that transfers to my lips and spills out like water over a rocky cliff.

I slam my phone down on the desk as soon as the call ends and look up at Harry, who has a grin on his face.

"I'm not sure if that worked." I say.

"Well, you're staying anyway. You don't have a car and mine is out of gas." It's a rubbish excuse but I push it to the back of my mind.

His fingers connect with my ribs and wiggle across my skin. He catches me when I bust out laughing, protesting the tickle fit but secretly wishing that it wouldn't end. Every cliché movie couple scenario trots through my thoughts. Simple, easy, happy is what life around Harry is.

"You should eat," He says. "Let's go downstairs."

He takes my hand in his and I follow him down the creaky wooden stairs and into the kitchen. His mother has her back to us and a bowl and spatula in front of her. Flour coats the counter and is sprinkled on the floor, ingredients scattered around the kitchen. She turns and smiles, and an exact replication of Harry stands before me. With the exception of dark brown hair that falls around her shoulders and paler green eyes.

"You must be Lea." She squeals, throwing her arms around me.

I sputter and look to Harry who is leaning against the counter chuckling.