Dancing With Myself

II

The wind is howling against the ancient shutters of the beach house, the repetitive pour of rain melding together into a static-like howl as the three of you convene in the living area. You've lost count of how many times it has rained in the three days you've been at the beach. A small tropical storm so conveniently nudged its way to your particular beach, ruining the beginning of what could have been a relaxing, fun-filled couple of weeks.

Luckily, one of the only updated pieces of furniture in the house just so happens to be the TV, so you're able to have unlimited access to Netflix and Hulu with the set-up it has. Since the three of you are confined to the house, watching movies and shows is the most liable pass-time.

As you sit on the couch, legs curled beneath you comfortably, your eyes drift from the TV to the couch cushions next to you where Deidre sits, immersed in something on her phone and completely oblivious to the movie playing in front of her. She's grinning to herself, the glow of her screen illuminating her face while she giggles at whatever is on the small screen.

Ever since that first day, when she met that group of friends, she's been on her phone talking to them non-stop. And after the lunch date they had on the first day, she told you that two of the guys are in a fight over her and made bets with each other on who can get a date with her first and win her over. 'Childish antics' she called them, but clearly, she's enjoying every second of it.

Of course, you're happy for her. You're glad she's able to make friends so easily, and you always want her to be happy, but you can't help but feel a little frustrated with her. She's so caught up in her own things that she's completely forgotten the whole point of this trip.

About a month before she planned the trip, you had somewhat of a breakdown. Starting classes in a school miles away from your home had dug you into a deep, deep hole of loneliness and anxiety and when Deidre came to visit you at school, all of your pent-up emotions came crashing down. That night, after hours of her comforting you, she told you that she was taking you to the beach with her and that you had no choice but to come. However, here you are, two days into your trip, and she's already found a way to make things better for herself, completely ignoring your fragility.

"Do you guys want something to eat?" Harry's silky, deep voice breaks through your train of thought and your head snaps up in his direction.

"I could eat." You respond quietly, as you look up at him. He's pushed himself out of the small love seat beside the couch, casually standing with his phone in his hand. He's wearing a plain, white t-shirt, a pair of black basketball shorts, and his feet are covered in a pair of white socks. If you'd seen him on the street in this outfit, you'd have never guessed that he's worth quadruple the money in your entire life savings.

"Yeah, me too," Deidre says, her eyes refusing to leave her phone screen.

Harry nods, "Pizza sound good?" He slides his phone into the pocket of his shorts before gliding a large hand through his shoulder-length hair.

You shrug, "Fine by me."

Deidre giggles at her phone again and you frown at her, unaware that Harry is watching you before he snorts and draws your attention in his direction. You make eye contact with him, and he rolls his eyes at her, "C'mon, the pizza place doesn't deliver so we're gonna have to pick it up."

You frown again, "And I'm going with you because..." He gives you a knowing look, nodding his head at Deidre who is fully unaware of your conversation and you sigh, pushing yourself to stand from the couch. "Fine."

You don't even consider changing out of your sweats before leaving, opting to slide on a pair of vans and fix up your hair to make it look less like you've been sitting inside all afternoon. Harry slides on his own vans, tying his hair into a bun, then pulling a grey beanie over it and grabbing an umbrella before the two of you head out into the pouring rain towards his car. He makes sure to keep the umbrella held over you in the short walk to his car, walking around to the passenger side and opening the door for you. Chivalrous. You think to yourself with a small smile as you slide into the costly, leather seat and wait for him to walk back around to his side.