This Was Home [h.s.]

| 11. EGGS? |

He was just in a white tee shirt this time, which the weather finally permitted. Bits of exposed ink peeked through the thinness of the fabric, on top of what was already adorned along his arms. The breeze was slight and caused the shirt to flow against the wind, the definition of his muscles softly protruding because of it.

He threw down the wood and placed glass bottles on each of the makeshift podiums. Realization finally struck me on what he meant by practice now.

Shooting practice.

I already had an abundance of practicing this with mom, I didn't see how this would help me any more.

I shook my head to force myself back to reality. I didn't want him to catch me and accuse me of gawking at him again. I'd already gotten my fair share of that.

The door groaned as I swung it open, causing Harry to turn toward me. He waved over and shouted, "Perfect timing!"

I raised a hand to once again shield my eyes from the sun beating down on me. My eyes squinted for a moment as I walked more towards him. I stopped when I got in front of the target practice he had set up.

"You know, I've done this a million times."

My hands were placed on my hips and my head crooked to the side as I peered at him; a jokingly-arrogant look on my face.

"Well," he placed a hand on one of his own hips and smacks his lips as to mimic me, "Then how come Miss-done-this-a-million-times kept missing the shot and almost wasted all her bullets trying to get just one?"

My face scrunched up with annoyance.

"I was stressed! The Crawler was running! Minus the fact it was also raining!" I raised my hands up in exasperation, pretending like he didn't make a good point.

Before I had left my house for the drop-off I was full of confidence. I was pretty good at hitting targets that mom had me practice with, but again, they didn't prepare me for reality. I didn't see how this would prepare me for reality either.

"That's real life babe—stressful. Sometimes things move. Sometimes it rains," he paused to lean toward me and spoke in a whisper, "Ya know, sometimes you don't exactly get to choose what happens."

He leaned back away, his previous mocking demeanor had seized and his stance was normal again. He always seemed to surprise me with how he could be so condescending even when he was trying to be helpful.

"And how's this real life?" I spat out and gestured toward the glass bottles nestled on top of tree stubs.

He scoffed sarcastically, "You think that lowly of me Brin?" His hand reached up to his chest to add dramatic effect, "You think this was all I was going to have us practice with? I'm offended personally."

He dropped his hand and quickly tossed a gun toward me that he pulled from the back of his pant's waistband.

"Now come on."

I didn't argue, I was just glad I caught the gun that was flying toward me. I didn't think I would have heard the end of it had I let it fall.

I heaved a breath of annoyance and walked behind him, gun held carefully beside me.

I imagined Harry was slightly surprised that I did have pretty good aim when it came to still-targets. He would give a few "not bad" comments, but nothing past that.