"Thank you for listening to Dawn FM, dead or alive every morning at 7am."
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Set in 1987, Maggie Holmes is hired as a temp placement at Dawn FM for the summer. She gets to know the radio personalities, some more than others. One of the hosts, H...
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The last time I was packing a bag to stay at a man's house was probably when I was eighteen. It was that short time between Timothy and I being graduated and right before he proposed. Of course, I had packed my bag to stay at a friend's house plenty of times, but I always thought that this was different. I could forget my hair tie or something and still ask my friend for one. If I left my hair tie for when I showered here, what would I do at Harry's place?
Sighing to myself, I tried to go over everything that I would need, knowing that I had packed far too much. It was truly a blessing and a curse when it came down to it. After I was certain I packed my bag with everything I could possibly need, I headed to the bathroom, double checking that I looked okay. I didn't want to be over the top, so I opted for a light wash pair of jeans and a white bishop sleeve top. It was kind of hot out, so I didn't want to wear anything that was going to be too suffocating, but I figured with my shirt having airy sleeves it would probably be fine.
It was close to seven-thirty when I heard the doorbell ring. I quickly left the bathroom, walking to the door and glancing through the peephole. Harry was standing there, of course, looking handsome as always. Pulling the door open, I watched as he quickly stood up straighter, his right hand behind his back. I wondered what he was doing, but there was a small smile on his face, my cheeks flushing when I realized his hair was parted down the middle. It wasn't an aggressive part, but enough that his hair fell better—in a way that made me, for some reason, think of incredibly sinful thoughts.
"Hi," he greeted, pulling flowers from behind his back. "Now before you start crying, I made sure every single one didn't have a thorn, and, I didn't go over the top. See, it's smaller than the last bouquet."
Even with him explaining, there were tears in my eyes and he groaned, quickly pulling me into him. It was like it was the only thing that could get him to hold me without any sign of hesitation, a giggle leaving my lips when he shut the door and started murmuring to himself about how he needed to get me something else next time. I held onto him tightly, knowing that he had wanted no affection at all yesterday evening, but was already giving me a hug. I mean, I had seen him for probably ten minutes this morning before he left, but it hadn't been enough time to even remotely squeeze in a hug. Pulling away from him some, I giggled once more, glancing at the flowers as I held onto his waist.
"They're so pretty," I told him, wiping under my eyes. "Thank you so much."
"I don't really like that I have made you cry already," he chuckled softly.
"Happy tears," I assured him. "Thank you, Harry."
"Yeah, of course."
I let go of him, wanting to hold his hand but the right one was occupied by flowers while the left one was still in the works of healing so I didn't want to mess with it. Instead, I grabbed a vase, filling it with water and placing it on the counter. Harry did his best to get the paper off, explaining that his hand wasn't as sore as yesterday but it was still sensitive.
