Two Truths & A Lie

Chapter 4

"I said 4 o'clock," I snapped, throwing the front door open and staring Harry down.  He was dressed in his usual baggy, light-wash jeans and blue, oversized hoodie.  Did he ever change clothes??  That aside, one of my biggest pet peeves was when people weren't on time.  Everyone seemed to think that being early was a good thing, but I never saw it that way.  If I ask someone to come at four, it's usually for a good reason.  If I wanted Harry there at 3:45 I would have told him so.  Being late was just plain unacceptable - unless, of course, it was a house party or something similar.  

"I was just so excited to get working on this project with you..." Harry said sarcastically, gripping the strap of his bag with one hand and pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose with the other.  

"Shoes, shoes, shoes," I repeated, pointing beside the door and chosing to ignore his sarcasm as he welcomed himself into the house.  "My mom hates shoes in the house." 

Harry kicked off his white converse and tossed them to the floor by the door.

"Books," I told him, pointing at the couch in the living room.  He dropped his black backpack on the gray cushions and looked at me.  "Snack?" I asked.

"Sure." 

"Follow," I instructed shortly.  He really knew how to ruin an afternoon.

When I walked into the kitchen ahead of Harry, I found my mom and Louis leaning against the oven and talking rapidly in hushed tones.  Louis glared at me, but having already told him to relax and come back later that night, he didn't say anything.  Once he figured out Harry was here, he was furious, but finally accepted that it was bound to happen sometime.   I convinced Lou that he should probably use this time to go work on his own project with Clarice.  When Harry appeared in the kitchen behind me, Louis raised an eyebrow slowly.  

"Harry."  He extended his hand toward Harry for a handshake.  To my surprise, Harry stepped forward and shook his hand back.  The air was a little tense and I knew Louis was still holding the "fuck off" incident in class against Harry.  

"Louis," was all Harry said.  

"I'll be back later," Louis told me, kissing me on the forehead and then the cheek and then the lips and then going for ANOTHER kiss before I growled to warn him to stop.  My mom had witnessed us being affectionate before, but it was weird with both Harry and my mom standing there watching.  Lou was definitely trying to show his dominance.  I didn't understand why.  Harry honestly was no threat.  Louis slapped my butt hard as he passed and then nodded at Harry.  "Later, mate." 

"Harry, this is my mom.  You can call her Mary," I said after Louis was gone.  

Harry extended his arm swiftly and held out his hand.  "Ms. Hastings," he said.  My mom liked to be called by her first name because it made her feel younger, but she made no comment. 

"Can you even see me through all of that hair?" She laughed instead.  She took a few steps toward Harry and stood on her toes as she stared to mess with his hair.  Normally, I would scream at her to stop, but I had been on the verge of pushing Harry's hair away from his face myself for the last few weeks.  It was infuriating not to be able to see his face.   Harry remained where he was standing, but  from the way his long body was beginning to arch backward, I could tell he was trying to get away from my mom's quick hands.  Not only that, but he was overting his eyes from her scantily clad body and black-silk robe.  Harry was so rude to other people, I was a little surprised he didn't snap at her or push her hands away.  I can't say I wouldn't do the same thing.  When my mom was satisfied with her work, she sighed and stepped back.  "There.  Hi!!!  Now that you can see me, I'm Mary," she said, shaking Harry's hand again.  

"Mom, we're going to work on our project," I said, grabbing two water bottles and a bowl of goldfish before turning out of the kitchen.  Harry instantly followed me, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and mumbling under his breath.  When I fell onto the couch, Harry sat a few cushions away from me.   I glanced his way and finally saw the product of my mother's work on his hair: she pushed his bangs up and away from his face and somewhat brushed the sides a little less forward so that they weren't completely in his face.  Harry's jawline, finally visible to me for the first time ever, was incredibly defined for a guy his age.  His eyes seemed more green now that sunlight was actually reaching them.