CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I wake up the next morning on the couch with one of Harry’s fluffy pillows and the blanket I usually sleep with. The telly is still on and I smile when I remember Harry first yelling at me that I should sleep in his bed and he should sleep on the couch, and then once I had declined that, he yelled at me about the movies I was watching.
It was back and forth the whole night and I’m surprised I even slept because every time I was just about to fall asleep he’d say something like, “You honestly watch this shit.” And then the next it would be, “Why won’t they just kiss?”
(We were watching Tangled; a new Disney film that I thought sounded cute.)
I peek up from the couch, and see Harry’s eyes are closed so I get up from the couch and walk over to him saying, “Good morning, Sunshine,” With a big, cheesy smile.
His eyes flutter a few times before he opens one and smiles, “Good morning, Vi.” He says and I grin a bit more at the nickname, “I see you picked up on my pet names.”
I laugh and nod, “Yeah—well, no.” He looks at me oddly before I add, “I just want you to make me some breakfast.”
He rolls his eyes, “Typical. Using me only for my cooking skills.”
“That’s about right.”
He sighs, sliding the duvet off his body, exposing his bare chest. He then slides off the bed, walks into the kitchen, and I rush after him.
He looks through the refrigerator before turning around to look at me and asking, “How does French toast sound?”
I hop onto the island and take the package of bread that’s behind me and hand it to him, “It sounds delicious.”
He smiles and turns back to the fridge and grabs the milk and eggs, and then moves to a cabinet and grabs some cinnamon and then another to get some sugar.
“So Violet, how did you sleep?” Harry asks, cracking a few eggs into the container.
“Very well, and you?” I reply, kicking my legs off the ledge of the island. Whenever they come back towards the island, they hit a cabinet, causing a small sound.
“Nicely.” Harry replies, then looks down at my legs and says, “Can you stop doing that?”
I shake my head, instead trying to keep my legs from hitting so hard, though there’s still a small sound. “Please, Vi.” Again I try to stop them, but they keep hitting the cabinet.
Whenever my legs can’t reach the floor, (which is quite frequent, being so short in all) I swing them, so it’s sort of become a force of habit.
Harry then rolls his eyes, and then eyes the spoon he’s holding in his hand and smirks. “Very well then.” He shrugs, and then flings the spoon at me.
I see it coming, so instead of it hitting me, I suck in a breath of air and hold it, watching as my body becomes even more transparent. The spoon goes through my body and lands on the couch, the egg and milk mixture getting all over, causing me to fall into a short stream of hysterics.
“What—How—Violet.” He stutters out, whining a bit when he sees that there’s now eggs and milk all over the flat, “Clean it up.”
“What, no!” I stop laughing and shake my head, “Last time I checked, I’m not the one who flung the spoon across the room.”
“But how did it go through you?” He asks, “Not everything goes through you, you didn’t go through the counter.”
“Good observations, Harry.” I say sarcastically and he rolls his eyes, laughing slightly, “The reason it went through me is because I held my breath, and I didn’t fall through here,” I pat the top of the island next to me, “because I didn’t hold it very long, barely a second.”
