book club

eighteen || birthday?

"Lea," My mom strolls into the kitchen.
"Your birthday is tomorrow."

Harry peers at me curiously as I grimace.

"Birthday? No thanks." I say.

Harry drapes his arm over my shoulder and leans forward. "You didn't tell me when your birthday was." He whispers.

I shrug. "I'm not really into birthdays." I reply.

"Well you still could've told me." He grumbles.

I poke the place where is dimple would be and it appears, like open sesame.

"Quit poking my face, woman." He bats my hand away and kisses my cheek.

I have the feeling that I am somewhat good at this whole relationship thing. Maybe. Kinda. I'll ask Harry later.

"Gross." Liam pouts.

I kick his shin under the table and pout in reply. "Oh, come on Liam. Just because you're lonely doesn't mean you have to be a party pooper."

He playfully scowls at me. "I am not lonely."

Harry chuckles. "No actually, Liam is getting some from some college girl." He says.

"Getting some?"

He nods. "Getting some."

My mom walks to the table. "Getting some? Is this new lingo? Someone explain to me." She demands.

I bury my face in Harry's sleeve and laugh.

"It's the frickle frackle, Mrs. Golding." Harry replies.

"Please call me Grace." She says.

"Of course." Harry reaches for my moms hand and kisses her knuckles.

Someone save me.

She fans herself and turns to leave the kitchen. "You've got yourself a keeper, Lea. Oh my. And remember, birthday tomorrow."

I wave her off and turn to Harry. "If you get me anything, I will shove it back up your butt."

"What if I got you a diamond ring?" He asks.

I swallow. "Then I'd stick it up your big nostril."

He laughs and shakes his head. "Alright alright, no diamond ring."

"No present." I say.

"We'll see about that one." He replies.

Liam looks at his phone and then curses, pushing himself from the table and to his feet. "I've got to go guys, see you at book club."

He waves, thanks my parents and then bounds out the front door.

"Where is he going?" I ask.

Harry takes a drink of sweet tea and wipes his mouth. "He really does like that chick I guess. They've got a date or whatever."

"A date or whatever?" I repeat.

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, a date or whatever."

"We've never been on a date." I say.

He laughs. "Your birthday is tomorrow." He reminds me.

"I swear to god, Harry." I groan, softly knocking my forehead on the wooden table.

"I'm going to get you something, and that's that. Now let me take a nap in your bed, I'm exhausted." He stands and takes my hand.

"No, go sleep on the couch." I am reluctant to let him in my bed, no matter how bad I want to make a pillowcase out of his shirt.

Ew, I'm creepy.

He rolls his eyes again and throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my protests.

"Hey mom, hey dad." I wave upside down.

My dad turns his head to smile at me. "Oh hey, Lea."

"Lea?" Harry says, gripping my thighs as he carries me up the stairs.

"I'm wearing a dress." I say.

He shrugs beneath me. "I know, I can see your underwear."

I punch him in the butt. "That isn't true." I exclaim.

He gently tosses me onto my bed and leans over me.

Dear lord.

"I was joking, Lea. You're wearing shorts, unfortunately." He grins.

"I'm not afraid to punch you in the head." I declare.

He pulls the covers over us and curls up behind me. "Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep." He says.

"I'm not tired." I reply.

Harry kisses the shell of my ear. "Well, I am so try not to wiggle around."

And then, I realized, as the great Hazel Grace once said, "I fell in love the way you fall asleep: Slowly, then all at once."