Labels || H.S. [#Wattys2020]

TWELVE

To say that Harry wasn't thinking about kissing Reagan would be completely incorrect. In fact, he was trying so hard not to think about kissing her that all of his brainpower was devoted solely to the cause, making his driving skills very poor. Reagan, who would usually be completely flipping out at Harry's lack of concern for the road, was actually sitting back in her seat, completely tense, a bit too shocked to say anything. Where there were once sarcastic remarks and witty quips, there was now silence. Awkward fucking silence. They just didn't know what to do with themselves and all that kept flashing through both their minds was that almost kiss that was a complete fluke.

Harry wanted to go in for the kiss, he really did. Oh god did he want to kiss Reagan. But he just couldn't do it, which was so unusual for his 'womanizing' self. It had been a while since he had actually been with a girl, like actually hung out with one on his own accord, not for publicity or because someone told him, just because he could. And it had been a while since he actually fancied a girl. Like actually, really just wanted to be with her all the fucking time. God, he was losing it for Reagan, and at that moment it ran through his head that he actually really did fancy her and he kind of smiled that dopey smile of his and turned to look at her. She felt his stare upon her and looked at him with this really weird expression, a cross between endearment and utter terror, and turned back to look blankly out the window.

He couldn't blame her for reacting that way, Reagan had never had this happen to her. It wasn't normal. Boys never did this with her. The few boys she had ever interacted with would never have fallen for her, they would never have treated her the way Harry did. In fact, no one had ever treated her the way Harry had. It was like he couldn't see her for what she really was. He saw her in this completely different light, and it scared her because she didn't know if he was projecting his idea of who she is onto her, or if he's just really seeing the person she actually is, no bullshit. Maybe it would help if Reagan actually knew who she was, but she didn't. She didn't think anyone really did know at their age, so she didn't get too hung up on it. She had bigger things to worry about.

"Um, so, where should we go first?" Harry asked nervously drumming his fingers upon the steering wheel.

"I don't, uh, I don't really care." She said, never looking at him.

"Look, did I take that joke too far?"

"What joke?"

"You know what joke, Rae."

She pretended to be above it, that it didn't mean anything to her, because it shouldn't. It was a joke, after all, he was openly admitting it. He would never kiss her, at least she didn't think so.

"Oh, the whole kissing thing?"

"Yeah."

"I know you didn't mean it, I mean why would you kiss me?"

Harry bit his lip, not wanting to say anything, he was really holding himself back but he couldn't help saying, "Why wouldn't I kiss you?"

She laughed nervously, "We already established that I don't want your germs."

"Yeah." He said, trying to laugh naturally but it sounded forced.

Harry was mad he had really fucked up what they had going there. They had kind of established a natural flow and now Reagan didn't feel comfortable and he was second-guessing himself at every turn. He didn't understand what was happening, this was not him, not ever. He was always so confident, so sure of himself. So why did she make him into a mess?

"But, uh..." he started, not quite sure where he was going with his sentence. He felt Reagan's stare on him and he knew he had to make something up, "How do you feel about going to the beach again?"