Paper Airplane

42

                I still wasn’t finished packing the day he was supposed to arrive.  I was getting there, and we at least had all of my supplies and toiletries and other household items for my dorm room bought and packed, so that was finished.  I guess in my defense I couldn’t exactly pack away all of my clothes with an entire week left at home, because what would I wear?  Packing my wardrobe shouldn’t take too long anyway.  Everything else is ready.

                It was weird being in my room now.  A lot of the things that made it my room, all the personal touches and knick knacks I’d gathered over the years, were packed away, and it left my four walls seeming entirely too bare.  I already missed my posters and photographs and Christmas lights.  That’s where I was when I heard the knock on the front door.

                At first, all I could think was how could he be home already?  He wasn’t supposed to get here until late afternoon!  Mom was going to be pissed.  She was still at work.

                I quickly slid off my bed and ran to the living room, avoiding a stack of boxes I’d left in the middle of the floor by mere centimeters.  Why was I so excited?  I don’t even know.  And when I whipped the door open to see my brother standing there, clean-shaven finally, I did the last thing either of us really expected me to do: I threw myself at him.

                He hardly caught me, not having expected such a reaction, but then he chuckled.  “Damn.  You act like you haven’t seen me in years.”

                “It’s more like you haven’t been home in years.”

                “That’s a bit of an exaggeration I think.”  He let me go, a content smile on his stupid face.  Then he spotted something over my shoulder.  “Woah, what’s with all the boxes?  You moving out?”

                I rolled my eyes.  “Something like that.”  I stepped aside to let him in, my eyes following his every movement like I was worried he wasn’t going to like what he saw inside our home, though I’m pretty positive not a thing has changed since he’s last been here.  Apart from the boxes.  “Why are you home so early, anyway?  I thought you weren’t supposed to be here until later.”  Blindly, I reached for the door handle to shut it after Brady was all the way inside.

                The door didn’t budge, and someone cleared their throat.  It wasn’t my brother.

                “Hi,” Harry said, staring at me expectantly for a moment before breaking out into a very Patrick Verona-esque, Cheshire cat grin.

                I was rendered completely unable to speak at the shock of seeing him standing on our doorstep.  Had he been standing behind Brady the entire time?  His hair had grown so long in the month and a half since I’d seen him last…  It was nearly touching his shoulders.  His…his…  Why was he here?  I haven’t heard from him since our last week together ended, so why was he here?

                “Oh, yeah,” Brady said behind me.  “Harry wanted to tag along.  Hope that’s alright.”

                Keep it together, Lexie, Jesus Christ.

                “Right, uh…yeah.  Hi,” I managed to force out.

                His smile was so charming I wanted to slap it off.  But at the same time, it felt like I haven’t seen it in so long, and I never wanted him to stop looking at me like that.  “You’ve always had a way with words, Lex, you know that?”