Silk || hs

When Your Mom Takes Your Phone

The week drags by, and every day without seeing Harry feels like torture. All I want is to feel his full lips against mine while he holds me to his chest with those unrealistically beautiful arms of his. I miss that feeling of his soft skin brushing against mine, and I miss seeing that damn smirk he gives me when I set him up for a "that's what she said" joke.

I find that as I have been sitting around my house trying to read the book I've been wanting to read since the summer, I literally can't comprehend the words because my mind keeps relating every sentence to Harry. Tolstoy does not deserve this kind of disrespect, so most of the time I give up reading Anna Karenina and go back to snapchatting Harry like the ridiculous teenage girl that I am.

I miss his voice the most, though. Harry has called me a few times just out of boredom from being stuck at his parents house with all of his friends out of town for the holidays, but his voice over the phone just isn't the same as in person.

My parents have walked in whilst I was on the phone with him probably three times in the five days I have been here, and every time, they ask me who keeps calling me. I haven't told them about Harry yet, and I want to keep it that way for now. I know they have both met him already, I just don't want to deal with the lectures I am bound to receive warning me about the dangers of men and the constant reminders to have safe sex. Yeah, that's not an ideal conversation to have with my father.

I kind of get the feeling that my mom knows that I haven't just been talking to Alex on the phone. I think she can tell that the reason I'm acting all smiley is because of a boy, and I think she's secretly loving it. I haven't had a real crush on a boy since the eleventh grade, so she probably thinks this whole thing with Harry has been a long time coming. I'm scared to find out what she'll think when she finds out it's him though. I mean, given their last encounter, I should think that she would respond positively to it, but I honestly just don't know.

Anyway, Thanksgiving Day arrives and I spend the morning slaving away in the kitchen with my mother as she probes me about whether or not I've been seeing anyone recently. Though it would be simpler to just tell her about Harry, I find myself lying straight to her face and telling her no. I'd rather face the questions from my relatives asking why I'm still single as opposed to them pestering me about the boyfriend I have so recently acquired.

After putting the finishing touches on my gloriously delicious Mac 'n' cheese and shoving it into the oven, my grandparents show up, followed by my aunts, uncles, cousins, and other miscellaneous family friends that somehow managed snake their way into our family gatherings. So that's about it for near thirty minutes: people talking over each other loudly whilst drinking beer, my mom and I running around the kitchen, and the children complaining about how long the food is taking. Me too, kid. Me too. But alas, we must wait a whole hour more before the turkey is done.

At last, I decide that a bathroom break has been well-earned, so I make my way to my room upstairs and take a quick piss. As I am just about to leave the sanctuary of my room, my phone starts ringing and to my surprise, it's Harry.

A smile involuntarily finds its way to my face when I pick up the phone and answer it giddily, "I know you're British, but Happy Thanksgiving!!"

Harry laughs through the phone, but I can tell it is forced. "Happy thanksgiving to you, too," he says, clearly aggravated at something. I just hope it's not regarding his stepdad, though I fear it might be. Though I don't know the full reasoning behind their conflict, I do know that Harry has been very fed up with him this week.

"Is something wrong?" I ask him, my smile dissipating into a frown.

"No, no, I'm fine," Harry sighs heavily, and then hurriedly adds, "I mean, yes, but– I don't know why I called you. It's not your problem, and you're with your family, so–"