Amour. (editing)

two - harry

"We're just skin and bones, trained to get along." -Taylor Swift, Treacherous.

"Iris, Indiana. Why don't you take Gemma and Harry to the patio and get along." My mother smiles in my direction, other elders nodding in agreement. Harry.

As much as her treating us like children pisses me off, I force a smile and look towards Gemma who had her eyes on the boy, Harry. This is going to be extremely awkward.

I nod at my elder sister, Iris, motioning her to stand up first. Always possessing confidence, she stands up.

"Sure." She smiles at Harry and Gemma. "Come on."

I decide to follow at the very end of the three, it seems easier. Both of them stands up, Gemma smiling while Harry, this idea doesn't really appeals him; you can tell by his expressions. Gemma follows Iris and I stand up, waiting for Harry to walk towards them so I can follow behind. He astonishes me by offering the way first, and I smile, getting only a nod in return. Keeping a good distance between us, he walks right beside me. His head turns from right to left scanning the house in view, silent hums falling from his mouth.

I hardly reached past his shoulder, and I start to doubt if he is my age or not. We enter the patio, him insisting again for me to go first, my sub-conscious already charmed by him. 'What a gentlemen' she says and I try not to focus on it.

We both stand there, him looking around while I just stare at my moist palm. Why is my palm so moist?

It's not hard to comprehend that Gemma and Iris are discussing about their hair colors. Mother only allowed Iris to dye her hair once, she has a great despise for colored hair.

I regret keeping expectations high for him to start a simple conversation. He seems completely comfortable in just standing there and studying almost every object placed on our patio. I find myself building up my own little courage to start the conversation and noting a mental list of choices between what to start with.

"Are you from England?" Between the billion questions I had listed, this is what came out of my mouth. My sub-conscious is laughing at how stupid I am for destroying my first impression.

It takes a while for him to divert his attention towards me. He frowns at my question, not that I was not expecting that, and I find myself adoring the unique eye color the boy possessed.

"That is a funny way to start a conversation." He laughs. Oh. Well, at least he did not do a great job in impressing me either. I felt a little taken aback by his answer but I keep a neutral expression.

"I live here, isn't it obvious by now." He refers to the conversations our parents shared. 'I do, there is no need to be disrespectful.' I want to say, but instead I look away from his face and back down to my palm. The urge of leaving was increasing gradually. But I'm sure that would be impolite. Not that he's nice to me either, why should I care? I should have joined Iris and his sister; I hope she is nothing like her brother. Not that I'm judging, I'm just not in the frame to deal with these kind of moods or humans.

"Did it hurt though?" He asks and my mind highlights two statements.1) either he is asking about how I felt towards his discourteous behavior. 2) Or he is using the old pickup line to make it up to me.

Either way, both of them are not anything near appealing.

I gaze up at his face, almost finding it amusing how a small smirk plays on his lips, the kind that warned me about something.

"W-what?" I ask, my nervousness climbs up to my head.

"Did it hurt?...when you fell?" He chuckles slightly and my mind underlines the second point while I prepare myself on how to react. "When you fell up there." I look away from his gaze instantly and stare at my palm again, a really bad habit of mine according to my father.

I could feel the tingling heat on my cheeks at the double embarrassment. First, at the fact that he knew that I fell & second most importantly, how i thought he was going to use a dumb pick up line on me. My mind reminds me that it was my turn to speak.

"Ah, no."

"I actually thought that maybe you were expecting that old ass pick up line from me." He laughs; literally laughs and I stand in front of him somewhat like a donkey. I'm sure by now that he is referring to the blush my cheek carry and also about the fact that he did all that deliberately.

"No offense but the thoughts you have are quite comical."

"Sure." Is what he says and goes speechless after. I mentally pat myself for the fair comeback. After a few minutes of silence, with utter awkwardness lingering in the air, he takes my attention.

"The dress. That you're wearing." He points at me and I spot a cross tattoo on his hand. "What in the world is that?"

His sentence fueled my anger and I control myself from slapping him right across his cheek, just wear his dimple appears which adds to his breathtaking features. Too bad he is a complete jerk.

I part my lips to say something about how much of a jerk he is but instead, I shut my mouth. In this type of mood, I'd rather keep my mouth shut than say something regretful.

"I'm only talking about the dress, not you. You could have done much better than this." He explains and I'm not much satisfied. I want to speak.

"For your information, this dress was chosen by my mother and I like to respect her decisions." I have to control my mouth. "So you can stop being so judgmental and talk to people properly."

He laughs, again. "Seriously? He is getting in my nerves. "For your information," He uses his fingers to air quote this and roll his eyes. "You were the one judging my thoughts first."

"Because they deserved it."

"So does this ridiculous dress of yours."

"Guess what?" I take a few steps back.

"What?"

"I don't care."

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