Hiraeth

1.

"You can't start a fire, You can't start a fire without a spark," I sing while dancing to Bruce Springsteen's 'Dancing in the Dark' as I make pancakes.

"Nice dance moves," someone says from behind me as I flip a pancake, I turn in his direction and the pancake falls to the floor. Oh no. I look at the stranger, and he chuckles to himself and walks closer.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I say, placing the pan on the stove and dust my hands off in my clothes, before walking over to him. "You must be, Harry," I say, shaking his hand before I clean the floor and throw the pancake in the bin.

"Don't worry about it, love. You must be Emma?"

"Yep, that's me," I flash him a smile although I want to facepalm myself for making a mess.

Why would I be dancing in someone else's kitchen?

"Nice to meet you, Emma," he says, returning my smile.

"You too, Harry," I turn off the music. "I really am sorry."

"About what?" He stares at me in confusion, and I look at him for a little before I reply.

"I didn't know anyone was home," I say, although that didn't answer his question.

"Well, you're allowed to dance in the kitchen. I think people should do that more," he smiles at me, and my heart skips a beat. He has a cute smile, and I want to scold my mum for not telling me how good he looks. I mean, she told me he was handsome, but he's not handsome, he's gorgeous. His brown hair is long and a bit tousled, but the curls frame his face beautifully and his eyes are mesmerising. Perhaps it's because whenever he smiles his eyes brighten and my heart skips a beat.

God, get a grip, Em.

"Why?" I eye him confused.

"Because dancing makes people happy, and everybody could use a little more happiness in their lives."

I smile. "That's a nice thought," I say, taking in his outfit for the first time. He's wearing a white flannel with a few buttons unbuttoned, a pair of torn-up jeans and a pair of boots. It suits him, and I can detect a few tattoos underneath his flannel. It looks like it's a tiger. "So tell me, Harry, are you hungry?"

"Starving," he says and sits down on one of the bar stools, and I pour more pancake batter out on the pan.

"Good, 'cause there's way too much for one person."

"Where is everyone?"

"My mum's out getting groceries. Your mum is at a yoga class, and as far as I know, your dad's working."

"Right," he says, and I'm wondering if he is genuinely curious or if he was just making small talk. He runs a hand through his hair as he walks over next to me. He is around a head taller than I am, and he looks down at me with a smile. "You drink coffee?" He asks, and I nod. We've been living here for about a week now, but this is the first time I've seen him. Not that it's any of my business, but I'm curious to know where he's been.

I watch him as he puts a capsule in the Nespresso machine. I've never had coffee this way. The machine and the capsules are way too expensive, so mum and I go with the French Press.

"I hope you weren't planning on using the kitchen. If I'm in your way, tell me. It's just—your mum said we could use the kitchen whenever we like," I say flipping over the pancake.

"Don't worry, love. It's your kitchen too. No one cooks much in this family, anyway. We mostly order takeout, that's part of why mum wanted to hire someone. And she heard you needed help with your living situation," he says, and I nod. It was true. Mum recently got fired at her old job at a restaurant, and she couldn't afford to pay rent with only a few cleaning jobs. Luckily one of the families she's working for introduced her to Harry's mum, and she offered mum a live-in position. So now we no longer have to worry about a roof over our heads, which is quite nice. All my life we've worried about was money, always fearing we'd get kicked out. However, this is the first time we've been living with others, but Harry's family seems nice so far. "But if you weren't offering me a pancake, we would have a problem," he chuckles, and I smile.