The next morning I wake up with Harry laying almost entirely on me, his head on my chest. I try to move out from under him, but he groans and wraps his arms around me tighter. I roll my eyes.
"Harry," I say in his ear. He doesn't move.
I sigh.
"Harold," I say louder. He jolts up, glaring at me.
"What?" He snaps, looking up at me. His voice is raspier than usual from sleep.
I giggle. "You're laying on me."
He looks down. "Oh." He shifts off of me, onto his side. "That's still not a reason to call me Harold."
I shrug and get out of bed, tying my hair up into a ponytail. "It's eight," I say. "Why don't we make breakfast for your mum since she made us dinner last night?"
Harry groans and gets out of bed, sliding a black t-shirt on. "But that's so much work."
"Fine. You can watch, then." I turn and walk out of the bedroom, a smirk making its way across my face. Harry jogs to catch up with me, still sleepy. He rubs his eyes and yawns.
I open the fridge once we get to the kitchen, pulling out pancake mix and milk. Harry leans against the counter lazily.
"Don't even try," he says as I grab a skillet from a drawer and put it on the stovetop.
"What?"
"You'll never make pancakes as good as IHOP."
I snort. "I can try," I tease, pouring some pancake batter onto the skillet. I grab some blueberries from the fridge and sprinkle them in the batter.
Harry watches me as I cook. I try not to mess up as I flip a pancake. It lands on its side, folding over. I curse and throw it out. Harry smirks.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I finally snap.
"Like what?"
"Like me making pancakes is a joke."
"It is, if you've tasted IHOP."
"Alright maestro, you give it a shot then." I cross my arms over my chest.
"Maestro?" He smirks again as I move aside and he takes the handle of the skillet in his hand. He expertly flips it in the air, and it lands almost perfectly. I stare at him.
"Where did you learn to do that?" I ask him.
"The IHOP gods have contacted me. Apparently I'm the chosen one."
I laugh. "You wish."
"No, really. They came to me in my dreams last night." He flips another one, then slides it onto a plate. "For you," he says, garnishing it with a blueberry. He winks at me.
"I'm flattered," I say, putting a hand on my chest.
"You should be," he says, pouring more batter into the pan. "Because I'm the chosen one."
I laugh as I cut into the pancake, trying a bite. Harry looks at me expectantly.
"Well?" He asks.
"Looks like IHOP may have some competition."
Harry laughs. "I told you," he says, flipping another one.
"If only you could learn what a spatula is."
"You'll never let that go, will you?"
"Nope." I take another bite of pancake.
Soon we hear footsteps and turn to see Anne at the bottom of the stairs, tying the strings together on her robe. "What is this?" She asks us sleepily.
"We made breakfast," Harry says triumphantly, flipping another pancake into the air.
"How lovely," Anne says, sitting down at the counter. I slide a plate of pancakes to her, and she digs in. "Delicious," she says. "Well done."
"Is it as good as IHOP?" Harry asks.
"Oh, I couldn't say. I haven't been to IHOP in a few years." Anne chuckles.
"Oooh, pancakes!" Gemma shuffles into the kitchen, her hair up in a messy bun.
Harry grabs the plate of pancakes away from her. "Who said you could have any?" He says to her.
Gemma rolls her eyes. "Isn't it too early for you to be annoying?"
Harry smirks and slides the plate toward her. "I guess everyone should taste my genius pancake baking skills."
I roll my eyes. Harry winks at me.
"Too bad Robin had to leave early for work," Anne says. "He loves pancakes."
"Everyone loves pancakes," Harry says. "Especially my pancakes."
"Don't get caught up in the fame, Harry," I tease. "Arrogance is not attractive."
"You seem to think so," Harry retorts and Gemma laughs. I glare at him as he smiles cheekily.
"Watch this," Harry says haughtily. He brings the skillet up from the stove and flips the pancake incredibly high. We all watch as it flips in the air a few times before sticking splat on the ceiling.
We stare at it in silence for a few minutes.
"Well, shit," Harry finally says and Gemma, Anne and I roar with laughter. Harry glares at us and washes the skillet in the sink.
Anne puts a hand on her chest and Gemma wipes her eyes. I bite my lip to try to silence my giggles.
"Chosen one, eh?" I say to him. He curses at me under his breath and I laugh again.
"I didn't think it would stick," he grumbles. "I thought it would just graze the ceiling--"
"You thought wrong," Gemma snorts.
"Now, Harry, you'd better get the ladder from the garage and clean that off," Anne says in mock seriousness.
"But--"
"No excuses. We all saw you flip the pancake on the ceiling. You have to clean up your mess," she says.
I try my hardest not to laugh.
"Mum," Harry groans.
"It's okay, Harry," I say. "At least IHOP doesn't have competition anymore."
We all laugh again and Harry scowls.
After we finish eating, I go to get dressed and Harry and I get the ladder from the garage. I hold the bottom of it while Harry cleans the pancake off the ceiling, cursing the whole time.
Gemma walks into the kitchen, her phone in her hand.
"Blair, I need to go shopping today. Do you want to come?" She asks.
"Sure," I agree. "Let me just grab my things."
Harry disappears into a room looking for his mum as I grab my phone and purse. I tie my hair up in a ponytail with my mum's ribbon as I walk down the hall, looking for Harry to say goodbye to him for the day. I stop outside a door when I hear battling voices.
"I don't know what to do, Mum." Harry's voice is muffled.
"Harry, I'm disappointed in you. That wasn't a responsible thing to do."
"Mum, it's eating me alive."
"You've got to come clean, Hazza. That's my only advice."
"I can't! She'll never speak to me again!"
"Well, what are you planning on doing? Keeping it to yourself for the rest of your life?"
Harry sighs. "I don't know."
"You should be the one to tell her. Tell her before someone else does."
I back away from the door and walk as fast as I can down the hall, meeting Gemma in the foyer. She grins at me.
"Ready?" She asks.
I nod, following her out the front door and out to her silver car. I get into the passenger seat and we're off.
Gemma rolls down the windows and our hair blows back in the wind. "I have to admit," she says as we drive along. "I didn't think Harry would ever...settle down with someone."
"What do you mean?"
"He's never had a real girlriend, you know? Remember when you guys were teenagers, he'd never bring home a girl." She looks at me. "Then again, he might have been waiting for you."
"I don't think so." I almost laugh.
"Why?"
"I've never suspected in my life that Harry felt that way about me until now."
Gemma purses her lips. "You may not have seen it," she says. "But he was different when he was at home. One time you left that ribbon over at our house and he practically guarded it with his life. He'd hold it in his fingers like it was the most precious thing on Earth." She chuckles. "He definitely had it bad for you when you guys were around fifteen. I remember that." She smirks.
"He would've told me," I say. "He wouldn't have been with other girls."
"Oh, Blair," Gemma laughs. "All men are the same. He was with other girls because he wanted to make you jealous, love."
I smile. "You think so?"
"Oh, yeah. He'd never look at them quite the same way he'd look at you." She chuckles. She pulls the car to a stop in front of a small boutique. "This place has the cutest clothes in Holmes Chapel," she claims.
"Hmm," I say and follow her inside.
For the next hour, we peruse the racks of clothing, trying on a few shirts and dresses here and there. Gemma ends up buying a new skirt with some new heels, and I buy a dress. Gemma swears Harry will drop dead when he sees me in it. I shrug and put my bags into the back seat as we drive home.
When we get home, Anne is cooking something on the stove and Harry sits in the living room, reading Matched. He shuts it when he sees me.
I sit beside him. "Still not finished?" I tease.
"I've been distracted," he claims.
"Oh?"
"Yeah." He puts his arm around me and kisses my temple. "For the record, Ky is way better than Xander."
"I agree," I say. "Ky sounds more attractive."
"I hope he won't be a problem," Harry says, smirking.
"I don't know. Sometimes when I reread it, I imagine Ky is my boyfriend--"
"Oh, I don't think so." Harry digs his fingers into my side, making my squeal with laughter.
"Say uncle!" He shouts as I shriek.
"Never!" I yell, trying to push him away. He grabs both my wrists in one hand and continues to tickle my sides with the other.
"Say it!" He shouts again.
"N-no--" I gasp for air.
"I could do this all day, Blairbear--"
"Alright, alright, uncle--"
"What was that? I don't think I heard that correctly--"
"UNCLE!" I scream and Harry laughs, leaning back. I catch my breath and glare at him.
"That wasn't cool," I say to him. He grins teasingly at me.
Harry switches on the TV and I curl up next to him, relaxing into his arms.
Author's Note:
Morning Guy! Have a good day!
And Tess is rapping right now... I'm scared.
-Lauren and Tess