Addicted To You .L.S.

Nineteen.

A Year and a Half Ago
(Sixteen years old)

On the morning of my sixteenth birthday, I wake up with a purple post-it note on my forehead. I pull it off, wondering how she'd managed to stick it there without waking me.

Congratulations! As of today, you are officially sixteen. Proceed to your closet for part on of your surprise.
       –Harry
P.S. Yes, you have to wear what I picked out for you. If I leave it up to you, you'll just wear a jumper. Please, go with me for once. The colours perfect.

I shuffle to my closet and pull it open. He bought me an entire new outfit. It's no surprise, considering how much he complains about my fashion sense. I rub the material of the shirt between my fingers. It's a dark blue colour sprinkled with white dots, it's nice, but it's too tight.
I pull it out of the closet anyway and see the note he's taped to it.

No arguments!!!

Rolling my eyes, I pull it off the hanger. Carefully buttoning it up. I pull off the black skinny jeans he's tucked so nicely on the hanger and throw them on. I want to throw a jumper over it, but I don't. I'm doing the finishing touches of my hair when there's a tap on my door.

"You awake, birthday boy?" Dad calls. "Morning, dad. Come on in."
He pushes open the door, a big smile on his face. "That's a nice shirt," he says. "Is it new?"
"Harry," I explain.
Dad grins. "Speaking of Harry..." He hands me an envelope. "He snuck in this morning, wanted me to give you this. You guys have plans?"
I nod. "You and mum have me tonight," I promise.
"Good," dad says. "I've got to get to the office. Your mum had to go in early, but there's a surprise downstairs for you." He ruffles my hair, before turning to leave. "Sixteen," he mumbles. "Can't believe it."

I wait until his car pulled out of the driveway before I do my morning lines of Oxy.
I'm sure he wouldn't believe that either.

Go to the old bridge and walk to the middle.
–H.

Harry loves birthdays. Gem and I have been trying to top him for years, always failing. For my thirteenth birthday, he'd gotten my dad to help him in an elaborate ruse involving a flat tired, a clown, and a skate rink full of balloon animals. He'd spent an entire year saving and planning for Gem's eighteenth.

Now it looks like I'm in for a surprise of my own. Great.
The old bridge has long been closed down from car traffic, with a newer, shinier version built down the river. I brush my fingers over the moss-covered bricks, looking for something that doesn't belong.

The flash of bright colour grabs my eye—a red balloon tied to one of the stone columns. I walk up and untie it, but there's no note. I look around, expecting to see him leap out from somewhere, bounding towards me, all smiles and trickery and delight.

"Harry?" I call. I search the ground, maybe the note fell.
But I find nothing.
My phone rings.
"You forgot something?" I ask him after I pick up.
"Pop the balloon," he says, and I can feel the smile in his voice.
"Are you watching me?" I ask, looking around. I go to the edge and peer down the bridge, trying to find him. It feels good to lean on the solid stone railing, take the weight off my bad leg for a second.

"I've got binoculars and everything," Harry says, lowering his voice to sound dangerous and failing when he burst out laughing.
"Stalker. Where are you?" I peer behind me, trying to spot him.
"I had to make sure no one took the balloon! I had your dad text me when you woke up."
"You could just show yourself?" I suggest. I look down over the railing and finally spot him on the north side, down the trail near the river bank. He's a blur off yellow, his jacket bright against the grey railing. He waves.
"Pop the balloon first, then I'll come up," he says.

I dig my keys out and jab the longest one into the balloon. It pops and something small and silver falls to the ground, skittering across the pavement. I chase after it, bending down on my good knee to pick it up where it's spun to a stop.

For a long moment, I'm silent, the ring in my hand, the phone against my ear.
"Lou? Did you get it?" He asks.
"Yeah," I say. "Yeah, I..." My thumb swipes over the ring, over the word engraved on it. "It's beautiful, I love it."
" 's like mine," Harry says. "We match."
"Yeah," I say. "We match."
Forever.