1975 {H.S}

Chapter 3

Harry had given me his number on Wednesday.

Here I am on Saturday, pacing back and forth with his number in my hand.

I wanted to call him. I wanted to get to know him. I needed to discover the mystery of the motorcycle riding bad boy.

"Hello?" I heard Harry say on the receiving end, which resulted in me hanging up the phone.

Why am I such a pussy?

"Just call the boy, for Christ's sake." My nana said as she walked past my room.

I rolled my eyes but proceeded to pick my phone back up anyway.

Taking a deep breath, I redial his number.
He picks up after the second ring.

"Hello?"

"H-hey, it's Nicole."

Will he even remember me?

"Oh yes, Nicole. How are you, love?"

He called me love.
Calm down, Nicki, he's British.
All British people use that term.

"I'm doing good, how are you?"

We talked on the phone for at least an hour, going back and forth telling stories about ourselves.

"If we keep this up, we'll have nothing to talk about over dinner."

Dinner?!

"That is of course, if you say yes to me."

His accent alone could melt me into a puddle.

"Yes Harry, I'd love to have dinner with you."

Who wouldn't?

"I was hoping you'd agree. How about tonight around six?"

I agreed and we said our goodbyes.
When I hung up the phone, my head was spinning.
How could one guy who I barely even know have this type of effect on me already?

Brits, am I right? They're dreamy.

*******

After getting myself ready, I walk downstairs to the living room.
"Well, don't you look nice this evening?" My grandma said to me as she puffed on a hand rolled cigarette, one of which I can only assume had marijuana in it.

"What are you all dressed up for?" Dillon asked as he walked out of the kitchen.

Should I tell them I have a date with Harry? They may not approve of him.

"I have a date tonight." I announce confidently with a smile plastered to my face.

Grandma smiled at me, she already knew what was up.

"A date with who?" Dillon pestered.

"With Harry."