we're young hearts, look at us go

poison

It takes a few weeks, but eventually Harry seems to come back. He's still irritable and most definitely hiding something—Allie can tell from the way he constantly watches his phone—but he hasn't locked himself in his room, which she'll take as a win for now.

Strangely enough, they've been... okay. She and Harry. It's not like they're suddenly best friends or anything, but their dynamic has become a bit less badger and a lot more flirt. She doesn't think it means anything—he still seems fairly hung up on Kelly, and Allie personally isn't looking for a relationship, all things considered—but she kinda likes it. She always imagined that maybe, somewhere, in another universe or something, they'd be friends. Their relationship is anything but perfect, but she feels like they're getting there.

In fact, he's been helpful. Doing his chores with significantly less complaining, even helping her plan things out. He's become a regular member at her dining room meetings.

He even helped plan Thanksgiving, which happens to be today.

"They're idiots," he says, materializing beside Allie outside as she watches Luke, Clark, and Jason attempt to prepare the turkey.

Allie snorts. "We needed them to do something. I thought prepping turkeys would be simple enough for them."

They watch as Bean approaches the group, scolding them about their methods before finally deciding to just do it herself. Allie smiles. Everybody seems so lighthearted and carefree today. She gave them the day off for chores, instead letting them hang out with each other in preparation for dinner tonight.

"So," she says, turning to look up at Harry once Bean and the others are gone. "What are you bringing tonight?"

"Besides my charm and naturally good looks?" Harry asks, eyebrows raised, and Allie rolls her eyes. "Honestly, not sure yet. My dad, he used to make the best homemade mashed potatoes, gravy and everything, but I don't think I could even come close to what he could do."

Allie shrugs. "I mean, it's worth a shot. I'm sure there'll be at least two or three other less-than-mediocre dishes, so what's wrong with adding another?"

"Aren't you supposed to be reassuring me? Telling me that you're sure whatever I do will turn out great, because you have so much faith in me?"

She scoffs. "Who said I have faith in you?"

He gives her a look, all half-smile and soft brown eyes that make her melt just a little bit. She knows what they're both thinking. She does have faith in him. Otherwise she wouldn't have stuck around those weeks ago when he couldn't get himself out of bed.

She inhales and turns away. She finds herself doing that a lot lately, turning away. It's something about his gaze, the severity and the surprising gentleness of it. It makes her stomach flip every time, and she hates it.

"Well," she says, crossing her arms and pretending she doesn't feel him still staring at her, "it would be really nice if you brought something. You don't have to, but I know a lot of people are. If you made a pumpkin pie I'd probably love you forever."

Harry laughs. "Pumpkin pie is no good," he says. "You won't ever catch me eating it or making it."

Allie's jaw drops, her eyes wide as she turns back to him. "You're a monster, Harry Bingham," she says. He only smiles proudly.

/

Clark's team won the game, the committee spoke their piece, and dinner is in full swing.

Allie's proud of herself, proud of everyone. They managed to pull off something really, really nice, and for the first time in a long time everyone seems genuinely happy.