comfortable silence (hs)

socks and raspberries {5}*

"My grandma wants you to take care of the weeds around the Foxgloves."

Mouth full of sandwich, Harry groaned. "Bloody chickweeds. They always come back. I swear I pulled them all out last week."

"I guess you missed some," Daisy shrugged, forcing a tight smile. The phone call from her father lingered in her mind, darkening the rays from the sun and weighing on her shoulders as she sat in the lounger.

"What's up?" Harry asked. He wasn't the best at reading people, but even he noticed her demeanor.

"Nothing." Pause. "Well, just my dad. He called last night."

"Oh. And that's a problem because-?"

"I don't want to talk to him," she said. "I mean, I didn't actually talk to him last night because I was out. But just the fact that he keeps calling..."

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

Daisy sighed and pulled her straw hat over her eyes. "That's not something I would share with you, no offense."

"None taken," Harry replied gruffly. His hands were deep in the soil and she watched him yank the thick roots of the weed. The weed put up a fight and Harry swore under his breath, before finally it gave in. The gardener tossed it into a small bucket. "Dads can be the worst."

"No kidding."

Daisy lounged on the porch until Harry was done, straw hat titled over her eyes and arms crossed behind her head. She was optimistically dressed for warm weather; a loose white blouse and a pair of khaki shorts. The sun felt unfamiliar on her skin. She reveled in it for the next hour, quickly forgetting about her dad's call.

"Are you asleep over there?" Harry spoke up after dropping his shovel.

He climbed up on the porch and wiped his hands, his eyes darting around nervously. "Do you... Are we still hanging out?"

"That's the plan," Daisy sat up, smiling. "Where are we going?"

"I've got some ideas," Harry shrugged. "But I can't tell you them."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to give you the chance to say no," he smirked boyishly. It was now, in the sun with his overalls on and a couple smudges of dirt on his cheeks, that Harry looked his most charming. Daisy's breath hitched in her throat and she was suddenly in the body of a primary school girl. A cute boy stood in front of her, the kind of cute where his hair was messy but his lips were pink and he didn't smile often, but when he did it was gorgeous and blooming. Daisy wanted to roll in the grass with this smirking boy. She wanted to kiss the dirt off his cheeks.

"I've got to change real quick," Harry said, snapping her away from the giddiness. "Wait here?"

Daisy nodded and Harry ran off to his car. He was quick about it- minutes later, he was standing in front of her wearing a clean tee and blue jeans. The pair made it into his car and he started driving an unfamiliar route- Daisy's curiosity was piqued.

"So what are you into? What do you do for fun?" Harry asked before she could question their destination.

"What do I do for fun?"

"Yeah, c'mon. I know I've talked so much about films and all. I want to hear about your obsessions."

"Not everyone has an obsession," she said, rolling her eyes playfully. "Okay, okay. I suppose mine is art. Painting, really. Looking at it, making it. I love it."

"Art. Of course," Harry looked at her. "You look like an artist."

"Oh piss off. I look like a lot of things, according to you."