Moon Tower

8.

six weeks later

"Are you sure this works? Or if it's an actual thing?"

Harry was currently laying upside down, his legs pressed up against the wall. He had shown up at my apartment unannounced with a slight limp, a shrug of his shoulders his only greeting.

This wasn't uncommon for us. After that weekend at my parents' house we didn't see each other for a few weeks, but we texted constantly. We texted each other about what we were doing during the day, random thoughts that would pop into our heads, lots and lots of jokes. Through all those text messages, we'd even learned each other's schedules. Unintentionally, of course.

It wasn't until we had decided on a day to go surfing together that Harry's appearances at my apartment became a regular thing. He'd shown up at the apartment under the impression that we would drive together, which I found totally counterproductive, and I told him as much.

***

I was blasting music through my speakers, so I didn't hear the knocking at first. Lost in the world of Kendrick Lamar's music and cleaning up around my apartment, I danced around, picking up stray shoes and textbooks that had been out for longer than I cared to admit. I didn't love cleaning my apartment, but when I did, I got really into it. So I was startled when I did finally hear the knocking on my door.

I rapped along to the lyrics as I made my way to the door and opened it.

"I was gonna kill a couple rappers, but they did it to themselves, everybody's—Harry?" I stopped, confused to see him at my doorstep. "What are you doing here?"

I stepped to the side to let him in, closing the door behind him. I looked around for my phone to pause the music, or at least turn it down. Spotting it on the counter, I lowered the volume so that I could talk to Harry without Kendrick blaring all around us.

I turned back to Harry to find him looking around the apartment. It wasn't much, definitely not as nice as Harry's place undoubtedly was, but I was still in school and I lived by myself so I couldn't complain. That said, it was pretty minimal. I had a TV in my small living room that my parents gave me when they bought a new one for their house, and the couch I had taken from my previous apartment when I was an undergrad and lived with some of my friends from school. I had a couple pictures scattered around the room: pictures of my family at parties, at Sara's wedding, at various graduations, and there was one from the Olympics that was framed and hung up on a wall.

"This is a nice place," Harry said once he finished his inspection of my living room.

"Thanks," I said. "But you still haven't told me why you're here. Not that I don't mind, you can come over whenever. I just—I was surprised is all."

Harry nods as I go to the kitchen to get two glasses of water. "I just figured—Thank you—I just figured we could go together."

I looked at him, a little astonished. Not at the fact that he wanted us to go to the beach together, that was sweet. But he drove all the way over here. I lived in Northridge so that I could be close to school, which was about forty minutes from Malibu, and Harry. I told him as much, which only made Harry smile sheepishly at me and take a sip of his water.

"Yeah, I realized that on my way here. But I was almost to your apartment so I just kept driving instead of going back." He laughed a little at himself, then downed the rest of his water.

"So, you ready?" he asked me. "You don't look ready."

"I was tidying up a bit and then I was gonna change and head over, but someone showed up at my apartment unannounced," I said, giving him a pointed look.