Magnolia in May [H.S]

Part twenty-four

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this chapters pretty long so I hope you loves enjoy <3

Harry

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February first, the dreaded day.

I rolled out of bed bright and early, though the universe was practically screaming at me to sleep more with the downpour, cloud cover, and green tint to the sky. Even so, I got up, putting on workout clothes, and jogged through the hiking path by my place. After the scenic walk, I decided to go into town, eat lunch and avoid people with birthday wishes.

And yet no messages from mum, 'oh happy birthday to the person I put on this wrecked earth...' fuck me.

I weave down the roads, peering out my window at the moody coastline. Crashing waves against the rocky beaches. I hit my breaks, my eyes adjusting to the sight bestowed upon me.

A figure lays lifelessly on the big flat rocks, one I can't see clearly. I ponder on the thought of calling the authorities, wondering what the hell I'll do if that's an actual body. If my life had now become some thriller movie I'd see in some dingy drive-in.

I make the hazardous decision to park my vehicle on the side of the road, jumping over the steel barricades enclosing the road and trudging down the grassy hill. With closer sight, the realization registers that in fact, that is a human laying on the rocks. One that's as still as the dead, which reacts in the pound of my chest.    

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," I huff, disclosing the presence, dysphoric and laying barren on the rocks.

"Uhh, Magnolia?" I pace, rushing over. Her hair is messy, feathered around the hair in unruly braids. Pieces plopped out, falling over her forehead.

"Why is it everywhere I seem to go, you just happen to be, constantly at the rink but now off-campus?" I sass but change my tone when I see the cold blank expression on her resting face. She doesn't respond to my sarcasm like normal.

She stays silent, I admire the entirety of her face. The peach plump lips puffed out subconsciously, staring at me as if they had eyes themselves.

"Meg, Hello? Do I have to call an ambulance or something?"

"What Letterman jacket?" She broods, keeping her eyes sealed shut. I sit down beside her with my knees out in front of me. She lays on the cold rock, like a sprawled-out starfish. Hanging my arms at my side, I prop my weight with them.

"What are you doing laying on the rocks?" I implore confused by her state. It seems to take her a fucking century to answer me, having me wondering If she's fell on her head and I need to call an ambulance.

"Existing." Meg's tone is dry as the Sahara desert, pushing me further into curiosity. "And how's that going for you?" She shifts, and I flattened my legs to the rock. "Time will tell." A small mutter arises from the tips of her lips. She settles herself, then laying her head on my lap, still completely stretched out. Limbs playing gymnastics while her little headrests in the nest of my lap. I freeze with the warmth, caught off guard by her serenest.

The silence washes in. But it's comfortable, not awkward in the slightest. And with the added touch of ravenous waves, it's delightful, calming the race of my heart with her touch.

She opens her eyes lazily, fluttering her lashes, which makes the butterflies waking in my tummy. My heart starts racing again.

"Are you religious?" She mumbles, quiet. I'm barely able to understand the words coming from her peach parted lips. It takes me by surprise, a question I didn't expect with the docility of her aura. I just shake my head no, being soft with her.