How You Get The Girl

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that's how it works, that's how you get the girl


BROOKLYN'S POV

It's almost midnight. I got home over two hours ago and Harry still hasn't shown. My mom went to bed a long time ago and Cooper is snoring next to me as my eyes threaten to close from my spot on the couch that I haven't moved from since I sat down to talk to my mom.

I gave in and texted him about a half hour ago asking if he was okay, overthinking it again and wondering about all of the things that could have caused him to be so late.

I've literally just been sitting in silence– except for the rain– since my mom went to bed, and I'm contemplating going to bed myself. Maybe not to fall asleep yet, but just to get off this couch and stop torturing myself.

I sigh, quietly standing up and avoiding waking Cooper up as I make my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. This is also just my way of passing more time. I check my phone again, seeing nothing new from Harry and I sigh again in disappointment.

So much for the adrenaline rush, because that's definitely died down by now and is being replaced by all of the chemicals in my brain that make me tired.

Honestly, knowing him, he probably got distracted or got a call and ended up occupied for forever, and then the rain started and he probably fell asleep. In hindsight, it's not a big deal and I'm sure he'll explain himself tomorrow and my worries will be eased.

This is hardly a bump in the road. It's more like a pebble or a leaf. You can't trip and stumble and fall over a pebble or a leaf. Better yet–

A loud knock on the door almost makes me drop my glass.

I immediately set the glass down and walk–who am I kidding, I run as fast as I can– around to the living room, knowing that this is either Harry or some other person who needs a break from the rain. Most likely the former.

I unlock the door, holding my breath as I open it and letting my breath go when I see Harry standing there, two hours late, absolutely soaked and shivering to the bone as he stands on the front step. I glance behind him for the bus thinking I missed it, but it's not there.

"Did you walk here?" I yell at him over the rain, ignoring how it's blowing into the house and creating a puddle at my feet.

"Yeah."

"Are you insane?"

"It was faster."

"Why–"

"Faith." He says suddenly, confusing me.

"What?"

"By George Michael. That's my favorite song of all time. At least, as of right now. 'Faith.'"

The conversation that we had in the bus while we were stuck in traffic, my memory catches up to me.

"That's great, but can you please come inside before you permanently lower your body temperature?" I yell again, not knowing what the hell he's doing.

"There's this one line in the song."

"Okay, but please–"

"It's 'but I'll wait for something more.'"

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