book club

nineteen || champagne

A Drop In The Ocean - Ron Pope

This - Ed Sheeran

It's my eighteenth birthday, and I'm in a dress. A white shift that scallops just above the knee. My parents say I look lovely, but I think I look hideous

Harry's going to think I look hideous too.

He's been waiting for me to come downstairs for thirty minutes, calling up the stairs to see if I'm ready, but I put him off every time.

"Lea, he's waiting." My mother yells.

I ignore her and move my focus to my hair, which is in soft waves that frame my face. It looks horrible too.

"Harry?" I call.

He knocks softly on my door and then opens it, stopping in his tracks when I turn around.

"I know, I look terrible. I'm not going." I say quickly, tossing my hairbrush on the floor and throwing myself down on my bed.

"Lea?" He whispers.

I peer up at him. "Yeah?"

"You look beautiful." He says.

I sit up and frown. "Lying is a sin." I reply.

He shakes his head, long fingers twitching at his side. "No, Lea, I'm serious. You look amazing."

"I don't feel like myself in this." I say, tugging him to the bed with me.

He's wearing a pressed white button down with a blazer over it. Inky black jeans encase his legs and the outfit ends with a pair of brand new black Converse.

"Change your outfit then. But, I think you look lovely." He assures me.

His hand reaches out to brush my hair behind my ear, fingers trailing over my cheek.

"I'm wearing my sneakers." I declare.

He reaches below my bed and pulls out a pair of dusty black and white Converse. "Good, we'll be matching."

I smile at him and push my feet in the canvas, fumbling with the laces before standing.

"Do I look okay?" I say.

"Of course," He runs his fingers through the ends of my hair. "Beautiful."

My entire body flushes bright pink.

"Do you want to go?" Harry says, hauling himself to his feet.

I nod and allow him to take my hand and lead me down the stairs. There's a flash and I put my hand up to cover my eyes as I trip down two stairs.

"Oh my god." I groan.

Harry is laughing quietly in my ear as he lifts me from my wiped out state.

"I told you know pictures, dad." I open one eye to see my father guiltily holding a camera at his side.

"It'll be fine," Harry gently squeezes my hand. "Just one. For your parents."

I reluctantly agree and my parents fall in a frenzy, frantically deciding where the photo should be taken. They finally decide on the fireplace, pushing me and Harry in front of it.

"Okay, now Harry put your arm around Lea's waist." My mom instructs.

His cheeks turn pink but he secures his arm around me anyways, his mouth turning up into a toothy smile, which I replicate.

The flash goes off and I see black dots behind my eyelids.

"Now that's finished." I sigh.

Harry hides his face in my hair and the flash goes off again.

I scowl at my dad, who hands me the camera and allows me to chuck it on the couch. "No more pictures." I spit.

My parents kiss both of my cheeks and Harry walks me out to his truck, opening the passenger door for me and assisting me into the leather seat. He shuts the door and presses his nose into the glass, looking like a piglet with his face smashed flat.

I bust out laughing and he smiles, peeling himself off the car and hopping in the drivers seat.

"You're a huge dork." I shake my head.

He puts the truck in gear and speeds down the street, ignoring my warning to slow down. He loves the rush, I can tell. He flies through stoplights and and stop signs.

"Where are we going?" I ask, once he finally slows down.

"This restaurant on the lake. You'll love it, I know you will." He replies.

We pull into the marina, and there's a small table with two chairs surrounded by lanterns.

I turn to Harry, but he's already opening my door and taking my hand.

"What is this?" I ask.

His eyes are bright when he looks down at me. "Happy birthday, Lea."

He pulls my chair out and I sit gently in the wood, taking in the scene in front of me. There's a silver bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne set in it, a single white daisy lain on my plate.

"This is very romantic." I say.

Harry sits across from me and grins, and it's the most beautiful I have ever seen him. The soft, flickering light of the lantern washes over his face, making every dramatic curve of his face appear to be carved by the gods. The golden flecks in his emerald eyes dance. His lips are dark plum and curved into a perfect Cupid's bow. A light dusting of stubble trims his jaw, his tan skin pure of imperfections.

"I'm a very romantic guy." He shrugs.

We go back and forth with childish banter, that's always so easy with Harry. Through out the entire meal, he is always finding an excuse to touch me. A brush of the leg, a touch on the arm.

"Champagne?" He asks.

I don't even have to answer, he pops the cork and pours out glasses to the brim. I drink glass after glass, until I'm a giggling mess and Harry's eyes are glassy.

"We're sipping stars." He smiles.

I toss back the rest of my glass and lean forward. "Are you Augustus Waters?" I ask.

He kisses my nose and laughs. "Only if you'll be my Hazel Grace."

I will Harry.

I will.