Come June [ h.s. ]

17

17
.

Despite his uneasy feelings from earlier that day, Harry still made sure he looked nice for dinner with Eileen. He showered, fixed his hair, and even wore his best button-up shirt.

It was supposed to rain later, but he figured it would probably pass quickly after a full day of sun — so he walked to her house. Part of him just needed an excuse to work off some nerves. The night felt slightly... ominous, for whatever reason, and his stomach was coiling with nausea.

It didn't make sense to him.

Hadn't he already reached the point with Eileen where he didn't need to feel this way anymore? Maybe they were seeing each other too often — maybe he hadn't been giving himself enough space.

And what did 'having dinner' together even mean?

He ascended the porch steps with a lump in his throat. As he reached out to press the door bell, he realized that his entire hand was shaking.

Get yourself together, Harry.

Get.

It.

Together.

She appeared like a vision before him, dressed in her long denim skirt and a thin, white sweater. Her hair had been intricately braided behind her head. Harry caught her gold necklace gleaming beneath the porch light, the one with an 'E' engraved on it, and wished she didn't have to look so nice all the time.

It almost made him angry.

Yes —

He was angry.

"Hi," said Eileen.

"Hello."

"You look very nice."

"Likewise."

Harry followed her inside and took a deep breath.

"Wow," he said. "It smells amazing in here."

"It's chicken," she said over her shoulder. "I think it's about ready, you can have a seat while I go check on it, if you want."

There was a square table next to her kitchen that sat a maximum of four people. Harry could see Eileen fetching some plates and silverware over the kitchen countertop as he sat down. Hickory darted out from nowhere, a soft gray blur, and immediately started playing with his shoelaces again.

"I'm sorry about him," Eileen sighed, setting down a couple of forks. "I don't know what it is about shoes that he loves so much. I have to hide mine so he doesn't chew them up."

Harry grinned at her.

"It's okay, I don't mind. Can I help you with anything?"

"Nope," she chirped. "Everything's done."

The two of them loaded their plates in silence, struggling to make conversation even as they ate. It was unnatural and simply not like them. Eileen looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn't — it made him awfully uncomfortable as he stared down into his lap.

The coil of nausea in his stomach from earlier worsened the longer they sat together. It spread throughout the rest of his body, and soon enough he was riddled with anxiety and dread.

What was this?

What had gone wrong between earlier today, and now? What was different in their relationship, and why couldn't he just snap his fingers and fix it?