Pizza Boy (NARRY) -Fetus Writing- #Wattys2015

Chapter 13: Everybody

"What are you doing in my room?" I ask Harry, not only curious but a little creeped out. "I'm not, it's a dream, duh. You can control your dreams you know." That makes sense, I've heard that. But I know I'm not dreaming. I'm not an idiot. "Harry, what are you doing." I ask again. Harry sighs. "You'll find out in the morning." Harry leaves out my door. I don't think about what he had said, and I don't care. I go back to sleep.

Harry probably creeped back into my room once I was asleep because there lay a note that wasn't there before.

"Meet me at the market when you wake up. I'll be waiting."

Sighing, wanting to just go back to asleep again, I get up so I don't keep the love of my life waiting. Usually, I go by the phrase "dress your best everyday as if you're going to meet the love of your life" or something like that, but this time I put on grey sweats and a white baseball tee with navy blue sleeves, white dots on them. Slipping on my black Vans, I stuff my phone in my sweats pockets until I grab my keys, not telling Mum I'm leaving. She just watches me walk out the door.

Rubbing the note between my fingers that was once standing on my bedside table, I wonder why Harry would ask me to meet him at the Markey out of all places. Why does he even want to mee met? After that whole funeral mess yesterday? This boy is something else. I like that.

I take my time finding a spot and text Harry once I had noticed the number on the inside of the folded note (to make it stand) when flipping it around.

~I'm here. Where do I go?~

I sniff, coughing into my elbow until my phone sings in alertness.

+Go inside to the bakery aisle. I'm already walking there so you best gets a goin'.+

If Harry had said that verbally to me, he probably would have sounded country.

Getting out of car, wishing I had brought a hoodie or something since I'm pretty cold in this beginning winter weather, I enter the store. It feels like it always feels when I walk into the market; like everyone's looking at me because I'm invading some sort of privacy. Or the party doesn't start til I walk in. But it's usually always the first one.

In the bakery aisle, I can see Harry examining some boxes of cake mix. He's in a plaid button down, the first few buttons undone to show off his toned chest, a brown hat lays atop his perfect hair, black skinnies, brown boots. His right arm us tucked under his left arm put, supporting his bent left arm as his finger hooks over his lips in thought, eyebrows furrowed.

Harry looks over at me once I'm a few feet away, smiling at me. "Pick a cake." He orders. "Why?" I ask, not feeling the happy mood he's in. I'm a bitter old boy today. I will take a lot to make me laugh. And I laugh at everything.

Harry frowns at me. "Pick one, Debbie Downer." Huffing, I grab a fudge cake and hand it to Harry. "You didn't even think about it." Harry puts the box back on the shelf. "I don't care I like fudge." I shrug. "Pick your favourite. Or one you haven't tried before." Rolling my eyes, I only glance at a few flavors. I take the white chocolate chocolate cake box off the shelf and shove it into Harry's hands.

"Pick some frosting." He moves me down the aisle some. I huff again, letting him know I don't want to do this as I hand him a tube of red and blue frosting. Harry picks out the decorations instead of making me do it, holding everything in his giant, sexy hands. I follow him to the freezer section, walking along the rows of ice cream.

"Pick an ice cream mate." I knew I would have to. I immediately go for the vanilla. Harry raises his eyebrow at me. "It's my favourite." I defend. Harry smirks and tosses a can of whipped cream into the air, catching it and strutting past me down the aisle to the candy aisle. I already know he'll want me to pick out my favorite candy, so I get some Sour Patch. Grinning, Harry picks up Swedish Fish and strides past me again, making me swivel around to follow.