3 | mood swings

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I hold my sides as I laugh, unable to breathe for a few moments, "That, was the worst joke I've ever heard."

"Says the girl who just told me a joke about Buffaloes." His dimples are prominent as he smiles.

"Well maybe that's because that joke was supposed to be buffa-low." I say before bursting into laughter again.

He laughs too, the sound whole and hearty and beautiful.

"Ok, that was even worse. No more buffalow jokes."

"Fine." I agree, resting my elbows on the cafe table that sat between us. "What did the green grape say to the purple grape?"

Harry gives me a look.

"It's not about buffaloes, I swear."

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table like me. "I don't know, what did he say?"

"Breathe you idiot."

I smile as he shakes his head. "That was bad."

"Fine, if you've got a better one..." I challange.

He thinks for a moment, "What's worse than one hundred babies in a barrel?"

"I don't know."

"One baby in a hundred barrels."

I scrunch my nose, pulling my eyebrows together. "That sounds more like an anti-joke." I laugh.

He just shrugs, a sort of glint in his eye I don't understand as he watches me closely.

"What?"

He snaps out of it, shaking his head slightly. "Nothing, you just have a pretty smile."

I blush and look down at my cup of hot cocoa so I don't have to meet his eyes, which I know are most likely watching me for my reaction.

To ease the awkwardness I start another joke. "Did you hear about the fire at the circus?" I pause and finally look up at him to see he is smirking.

He shakes his head in reply to my question, his smirk turning into a full on smile as he realises it's a joke.

"It was in tents."

A chuckle escapes his pink lips before he glances out the window, his smile making the dimple on his cheek deepen as he thinks about it.

"And don't you insist that one was horrible too, at least it wasn't about dead babies." I point out.

"But what's better than a joke about dead babies?" He asks jokingly.

"Anything." I laugh.

"So, Mason," He smiles, changing the subject, "what do you do for fun?"

I'm momentarily taken back by the sudden change in direction of our conversation. "I.. umm... I'm a dancer. Or I used to be, I don't do it much anymore."

He raises an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Not like that you pervert." I laugh. "I danced contemporary ballet."

"I didn't say anything." He smirks.

"Yeah, but you thought it." I raise an eyebrow at him as I reach for my mug.

"Thought what?" He asks innocently.

I roll my eyes, knowing he's lying. "Never mind."

Taking a sip of my hot cocoa I notice it had cooled quite a bit, and was now more like chocolate milk than anything.

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