A Falling Sky

Chapter 21

Two hours later, the movie ends and we walk to his car remarking how gosh darn cute that little Christmas Troll was. When we drive home and get inside my apartment, Harry shoos me away from the kitchen because he wants to cook it, himself, so that he can take all the credit when I ‘fall into a food coma, never being satisfied by a mere piece of chicken, again’ according to him. God, he is really setting some high expectations for this meal. Honestly, I don’t care what he gives to me at this point because I could eat anything right now. After skipping breakfast and lunch and then being surrounded by the smell of popcorn for a few hours, I am starving. I am, also, back to my good mood— well, as good a mood as I can be. I mean, this is me we’re talking about.

AFTER WATCHING TV FOR a bit—Harry said it would take about two hours before everything was completely done—I decide to take a shower to make myself fresh for dinner. I stay in there a long time and let the hangover effects wash away from my body as my muscles loosen and my headache evaporates like the steam.

When I get out of the shower, I rub the rain-kissed leaves lotion all over my skin and bask in the new scent filling my nose. I wonder what Heath is doing? I talked to him just before we drove to the theatre to catch up and he said that he was on his way to his uncle’s house. He also said that he probably wouldn’t have his phone out too much because his mom thinks that it is rude. I still get out my phone and send him a quick text, though.

*I miss you* the message reads. When I don’t get a response right away—which I wasn’t expecting to hear back quickly, anyway—I go to blow dry my hair.

After my hair is dried, brushed and styled, I enter my room again. I can hear Harry banging away in the kitchen and I smile to myself.

“Harry, are you sure you don’t need my help?” I shout through the cracked door.

“No, I don’t need you comin’ in here and messin’ it up. This is a little more complicated than Instant Pancakes and we both know how that turned out for you.” He says back.

“I would take my burnt pancakes over your cooking if it meant I could eat it right now. I’m starving! When is it going to be done?”

“Soon! Just stay in there and get ready for the meal of your life.”

God, he really needs to stop hyping it up.

I HAVEN’T GOTTEN FULLY dressed yet, so I go to my drawer and look at my choices while chewing on my cheek. I suppose I could just wear sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt for dinner because, well, it’s only Harry. However, I have a tempting thought: I do actually have a white dress like the one in my dream a few nights ago. I bought it a couple of weeks ago with Thanksgiving, as well as some other things, in mind. I know I don’t need to impress Harry, but I do kind of want to wear it tonight. I wanna get a little dressed up for this because it is Thanksgiving, after all, and we aren’t just having turkey sandwiches in front of the TV like my dad and I did last year. Harry seems to be making a nice meal and the least I can do is treat it like that…

A few minutes later, I hear Harry calling to me.

“Skylah! Come on out, it’s ready!”

“Okay, coming!” I say and open my door. He is carrying a big, steaming dish to the kitchen table when he sees me standing in the doorway. He looks me up and down and blinks a few times. Then the hot dish begins burning his finger and he winces as he sets it down.