Speak |h.s. a.u.|

Chapter Thirty-One

"The beach!" Annabelle's mother shouted excitedly to Anne.

Anne gasped, "That's perfect!"

They were discussing where they would like to go on vacation; apparently they were going to schedule a vacation for everyone before the summer ends. It was almost the end of August, so of course the weather was cold most days, but the beach would be warm, right?

"We can get a few hotel rooms and just split up in the rooms, then just meet at the beach every day!" Annabelle's mother squealed, "I love the beach!" Her and Anne continued to discuss the details, and even called a hotel and booked three rooms.

Harry heard everything as he sat in the kitchen with them. Annabelle was at her house, she didn't know her mother was going to Harry's house.

To: Annabelle
It's boring without you here.

From: Annabelle
Are you calling my mom boring ??

To: Annabelle
Yeah

From: Annabelle
How dare you

To: Annabelle
You should've come over with your mom

From: Annabelle
I didn't know she was going to your house, doofus. Just come over to my house. No one is home.

That excited Harry- Annabelle wanting to see him, inviting him over... No one being home. So he grabbed his hoodie and kissed him mom on the cheek, but she didn't pay him much mind as he left his house and headed to see his girlfriend.

Harry smiled as Annabelle opened the door. "Hey," he kissed her on the cheek and stepped inside, taking his shoes off at the door.

Annabelle was wearing cotton shorts that went to mid-thigh (again- she just found them so comfortable and she was so happy that she shaved her legs, she needed to show them off. Plus, her legs were finally almost healed from the burns) and an old Demi Lovato  shirt she got in eighth grade. It was still big on her, just like it was back then. Proves how much she's grown since she was thirteen (none, ha). Also socks, because her feet were always cold and she hated her feet. She also hated her thighs, her arms, her face, her hands- okay almost everything about herself.

Annabelle walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She left it open for Harry to get whatever he wanted, he grabbed a box of two-day old pizza. "We're going to the beach next week."

Annabelle set her water down after screwing the lid back on. She kept a blank face.

"Our moms planned a trip to the beach next week, I don't know why." Harry opened the box of pizza, grabbing a slice and throwing it into the microwave. Annabelle hopped up, sitting on the counter beside Harry. She almost couldn't get onto the counter, she was so short, but now she was closer to Harry's height. "They have three hotel rooms," Harry moved her legs so he stood between them and put his hands on her hips. "I say we try to share a room, yeah?" Harry grinned, moving his face closer to Annabelle's. She placed her hands on his cheeks as he connected their lips.

The microwave beeped, interrupting them. Annabelle gently pushed Harry back so she could hop off the counter, grabbing his pizza and putting it on a plate for him, quickly setting it down and shaking her hand. It burnt the tips of her fingers, of course. She couldn't have used a paper towel to grab it.

She wiped her hand on her shirt, quickly putting her fingers under cold water. She was a little embarrassed, not only did she burn herself in front of Harry, but the burns on her legs (which no one knew about) just healed, and now she burns her fingers.

Harry rushed over to her, standing behind her and putting his arms around her and grabbing her burnt hand, moving it closer to his face.
"Are you okay, baby?"

Annabelle's cheeks turned pink at the cute name as she nodded her head. She turned the water off and wiped her hands on a paper towel. Harry brought her fingers to his lips, gently kissing them. Her cheeks turned red.

God, how cliché?