British Rose

6. Catching flights (and feelings?)

H's house – West Hollywood, LA – Tuesday evening; 13th of August

They arrived back at Harry's house shortly after 6pm, having picked up some groceries on the way back from Griffiths Park for dinner.

While Harry unpacked the bags and set up the stove for the vegetarian Lasagna they wanted to cook, Charlotte called back her mom whom she had missed earlier. She came back into the house a few minutes later to find Harry in the kitchen with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Hey, what's wrong? Did I miss something?" She was quickly by his side to check what was going on.

"No it's just"- Harry gestured towards the countertop with the knife he was holding and Charlotte was relieved- "the onions."

Passing him a tissue, Charlotte joined his side and started preparing the vegetables for the tomato sauce.

"Everything okay at home?"

"Yes. My mom wanted to know when I'll be landing at Heathrow, so she knows when to expect a sign of life from me Thursday."

"Will your mom or Giovanna pick you up at the airport?" Harry knew she wouldn't have trouble finding her way back home, but airports are big and crowded and he just wanted to make sure she would be safe.

"No. I'll take the train back to Brighton. It's about an hour and fifteen minutes. My mom would get more lost than me in that giant building, and Giovanna works full-time during the holidays. But I'll text her too, to let her know when I'll be home approximately, she appreciates a heads-up."

Harry registered Charlotte was done with cutting up the carrots and celery for the sauce, so he proceeded to heat up the pot and put in the onions, followed by the vegetables. Charlotte went ahead and prepared the ovenproof dish with a layer of pasta sheets and the béchamel sauce Harry had already set aside. Neither of them said anything for a while. A lump had formed in Charlotte's throat when she realized that until now, their talks about departure day had been almost purely from an organizational standpoint.

They finished putting together the lasagna and when the dish was in the oven, Harry brewed them a cuppa while Charlotte had gone back to her room to text her flatmate the loose plan for Thursday. The sight of her empty suitcase made the lump grow bigger and her chest heavier. Tears started to form behind her eyelids, which she quickly blinked away. She was eager to make the most of the last hours she had with Harry before she wouldn't see him again for at least three weeks.

Walking back to the living room, her steps were hesitant.

Harry was waiting for her on the sofa with a steaming hot cup of herbal infusion, a smell of chamomile and verbena flowing through the air.

"Dinner will be ready in about half an hour." Charlotte sat down next to him and noticed, as he was speaking, his voice was painted with a hint of huskiness.

"Okay," she replied, coughing slightly to hide her voice doing the same.

Picking up his cup, Harry watched her closely. They had talked about a lot of emotional things the past few days and now she was leaving tomorrow. His insides were twisting, his brain in constant conflict between emitting more serotonin into his bloodstream because she was still here or taking it from him again because she wouldn't be for much longer.

Charlotte was sitting next to him with crossed legs, her cup in her hands which rested in her lap, her gaze fixed on the hot beverage.

"You okay?" he asked, reaching out to gently caress the top of her thigh.