forget-me-nots [h.s.]

three

"No, no," he stopped me. "Please come in." I smiled as they allowed me into the foyer, the first thing that hit me was just how warm it was in the house.

"I'm Anne," the dark haired woman said, offering her hand to me. "Harry's mother."

"Nice to meet you," I told her, shaking her hand. "I'm Violet, I'm in Harry's history class."

"Oh," Anne mumbled knowingly. "It is nice to meet you."

"You as well," I told her.

She smiled at me, and patted Harry's shoulder before disappearing into the house. Harry grabbed my hand and led me towards the stairs. I had to pick up my pace to keep up with his long legs. He took me to his room—oddly it was just as I had pictured it. It was very boyish; a baby blue color with dark curtains, a desk against the wall, a bed with a brown comforter, and a myriad of soccer and band posters on the walls. Soft jazz music played for a phone on his desk that was left on speaker.

He took a seat at his desk, and gestured to his neatly made bed for me to sit on. "I am so sorry I forgot; it has been crazy here today."

"Don't worry about it," I told him as I took a seat, the bed sank against my weight. I set my backpack on the floor beside me and nudged my shoes off of my feet so that I wouldn't get my shoes on his bed. Harry's comforter smelled like fabric softener and cinnamon. An odd smell; a combination I never thought could be appealing, but it was.

"Our air-conditioning broke," he explained. "My step-dad is out of town and so I have been on hold with the repair company all afternoon."

"That's unfortunate." I sympathized.

"Yep," he chuckled breathlessly. "Also sorry about my room, usually I don't like studying in here, because there is this scientific study—"

"About not studying where you sleep?" I asked, he nodded. "My mom sent that to me, because I have a horrible habit of studying in my room."

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to get much studying done," he began. "I have been looking for a do-it-yourself fix."

"Don't worry about it," I told him. "We can always go to coffee or something and study tomorrow."

He smiled before he pulled his computer into his lap and continued to scroll. I decided to try and look like I am doing something, and moved so that I was resting on my stomach and pulled out my history notes. I glanced at Harry out of the corner of my eye, he was wearing a grey singlet and athletic shorts. I could see the muscles move in his shoulders as he typed away on the computer. My eyes traced his tattoos, as I tried to think of a story for each one.

After about fifteen minutes of his web-browsing and my pretend studying. He shut his laptop and turned to place it on his desk. He swiveled the chair to face me once more, with a mischievous grin on his face. He had hung up the phone; surrendering to the long wait time. His fingers tapped a beat on edge of the arm rests.

"Let's play a game," he grinned.

"What sort of game?" I questioned as I sat up on my elbows, I shut my notebook and slide it back into my backpack.

"A question game," he said, a grin spread across his lips.

"How original," I mused sarcastically.

"A lot of people knock it, but it is a good way to get to know people."

"Twenty Questions is only something you see in Romantic Comedies." I told him.

"Are you saying that this is a Romantic Comedy?" He questioned with a wink. My cheeks flushed, and I threw a pillow at him. He easily deflected my attack. I rolled onto my back and looked at him upside down. He chuckled, "I'm kidding, no need to get violent."