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Upstairs, the washing machine beeps, and in a daydream like state, I walk towards the machine to grab my things to add to the dryer. Before I reach the laundry, my mother calls out to me,
"Darling do you want these things placed in the dryer?"
Oh God. She's already beat me to it.
"Woah, someone's in a rush," my mum points out, "and since when did you become so keen to do your washing? Today isn't linen day."
"I - uh... well, it needed to be done, and I felt like fresh sheets," I quickly recover. Though I really do wish Harry was here to answer for me. He seemed to have a handle on this kind of thing.
"Ava," my mother turns to me, "I wasn't born yesterday."
"I don't know what you're talking ab-"
She raises her hand to stop me, "Ava, you don't need to lie to me. You're an adult, and you probably don't want to be having this conversation with your mother, just as much as I would at your age," she says in a motherly way, before smiling warmly.
She knows. She actually knows! Dear God.
"You're quite serious about him, aren't you dear?" she adds.
I can't say anything, so I just nod, keeping my eyes firmly on the floor.
"I can tell," she starts, as she turns the dryer on. "I knew from the minute you brought him home that-" and she suddenly cuts herself off. "Darling, what's wrong?" she consoles, bringing me into one of her motherly hugs.
Without my knowledge, tears have begun falling down my cheeks, and I'm now sobbing. My mother soothes me by rubbing my back while I pull myself together.
Why am I even crying?
"I'm just being silly," I sniffle, "I don't even know why I'm crying. Everything is almost perfect between us."
The word 'almost' hangs in the air, and reverberates around the room.
"I just really like him," I tell her. "But it's like this is all too good to be true. That I'm thinking of how and when it's going to end before it's even really started."
"Sweetheart, this isn't your typical boy meets girl situation. Not by any means at all. But if you two just work together, you can get through this."
"But what about when we're not together. Like when he's off in some fabulous country on tour? My mind is obviously going to question the relationship. I don't know if I can put myself through that and still remain sane."
"Well let me tell you something about your father and I. When we first started going out, we had all odds stacked against us. He was attending university in Sydney, while I had my schooling and work here, in Melbourne. My parents absolutely couldn't stand him, which is the understatement of the century. We had to date in secret."
"How did you even make that work though?" I ask, impressed at how they could now have a happy marriage with what originally started out as an awfully challenging situation.
"Trust," she answers firmly, "And a lot of it, might I add."
"Yeah, but Dad didn't have millions of hormonally infused girls lusting after him," I smirk.
"You didn't see your father back then," she admits, smiling back in her daydream, while I pretend to gag.
"You both just need to talk things through, and be open and honest with each other honey."
Hmm, that seems more easily said than done.
I have to admit, it does appear to be sound advice though. Why do things always seem much brighter after a good chat with Mum?
"Thanks for putting things into perspective," I thank her.
"Anytime," she says, kissing me on the top of my head. "And what may I ask is this?" she asks, holding out the One Direction shirt.
I can't hold back my laughter as Louis' face is still a shade of orange, only it has faded into the shirt in a way that it looks like the shirt was manufactured that way.
"He looks like," and my mother tries to stop herself from laughing so she can speak, but is failing miserably, "He looks like that girl from that MTV show."
I laugh as he looks nothing like anyone from Jersey Shore, but I know who she means.
"Sookie!" she exclaims.
"Snookie," I correct, trying to stifle my giggles. "Oh Mum."
She shrugs and places both the shirt and sheets in the dryer, and I'm almost out the door before she adds on one more thing,
"I know that you're both getting serious, and I think he's a lovely boy. But talk to him about any of your concerns. and most of all, be safe," she warns. "
I feel myself going a deep shade of red as I head back to my room, getting her message loud and clear. Well that was awkward, though it could have been a lot worse. I check the time and see that I have work soon. I begin getting ready and hear my phone ringing from the bedroom. I decide to leave it as I'm halfway through straightening my hair, and once it stops ringing it starts again.
Ugh.
I begrudgingly put down the hair straightener and race to get it.
"Hello?" I answer tentatively, not checking the caller ID.
"Ava, it's Vicki," she says, sounding quite breathless.
What does my boss want from me?
"Hey, Vick, what's up?" I ask, as this is a little out of the ordinary. "I'm not late am I? I have in my diary that I start at 2."
"You don't need to worry about coming in today love," she informs me.
What?
She's never in all my years cancelled a shift on me before - not even when it was dead quiet. But things aren't really adding up as business has been really good lately.
"What do you mean?" I enquire.
"The store is brimming with teenage girls, all hoping to run into your handsome friend. I guess they must have figured out where you live. I just don't think it's going to make things any easier if you're going to be here."
"Well... what will that mean for the rest of my shifts this week?" I inquire, thinking ahead.
"I honestly don't know for now. I'm still paying you for your scheduled shifts – we've sold more stock today than what we normally sell in a week, and the day still isn't even over. We'll have to come to some sort of arrangement of moving forward," she advises me.
"Oh, okay-"
And I'm interrupted by Vicki talking to some people in the background, "I'm going to get you all to calm down, and form an orderly line," she yells.
Wow, it sounds like it's really getting wild in there.
"I'm going to have to go," she says, her voice sounding highly stressed, and with that, she hangs up.
Well this isn't great news. I was actually looking forward to today's shift with Scarlett where we could catch up on each other's gossip. I quickly type out a message to her.
'Did you hear the news? Won't be in today :'('
She responds with a picture text message of our store completely full to capacity with teenage girls.
'You're famous babe! Please don't forget little old me!'
I chuckle to myself, shaking my head. It's preposterous to hear myself, and the word 'famous' used within the same sentence. Even more so when it's used as an adjective to describe me. There's absolutely nothing special about me. I don't sing, dance, act, or offer anything worthwhile to the industry besides the fact that I'm dating Harry. I never intended this lifestyle for me, nor did I think it would ever be possible. I'll never forget my first ever day of school. It seemed like every girl wanted to be a princess, a singer, or a model. When it got to me, I said I just wanted to be happy, and I was told by my teacher that it wasn't a real answer. I now realise that it was.
During the day, Harry eases in and out of my mind, and I can't help but wonder what he would want to talk about with me. Almost like clockwork, my phone beeps and I already know who it is.
'I see that you're now following me on twitter. Stalker. I'm finished up here, so let me know when you've left work and I'll swing by x'
I start typing my response, and hit send.
'Home now - I'll explain when you get here. Front door is open so just come in x'
I bring my laptop with me to the couch, and wind down to some music by Bon Iver. I barely notice Harry come in, but when he does, he kicks off his boots, and squeezes in behind me so that I'm sitting between his legs.
He cranes his neck forward, kissing me gently against my cheek.
"Miss me?" he mumbles, his lips still pressed against my face.
I turn around to kiss him properly, and when we part he looks at me intently, with an amused expression. His dimples etched deeply into his cheeks and it only makes me want to kiss him more.
"Surprisingly, yes," I smile. "So what did you get up to today?" I ask, hoping to come off as ultra casual.
I feel his body tensing up immediately after asking him, and he hesitates before answering.
"Have you always this nosy?" he jokes, poking fun at me, but I also realise that he's deliberately avoiding the question.
I laugh it off, but his recent actions have made me even more wary of why he wouldn't just answer the question. I don't want him to feel like I'm prying, but at the same time, I don't know why he's being so secretive.
"Oh hey you two," my mother greets us. "Harry are you staying for dinner again tonight?"
I cut in before he gets a chance to, "Not tonight. Harry and I have plans."
"I don't think so," she replies in a sing song tone. "You know what day it is today."
I'm straining to think, before it hits me.
Sunday.
"Mum, please." I ask, giving her a look to show how important it is to me, and hoping she can hear my telepathic pleas.
Brooklyn enters, drinking milk straight from the bottle, interjecting. "No way Mum, you didn't let me have a night off when I had tickets to the footy."
I shoot him a look of disgust.
"Mum, please don't listen to this Neanderthal. Just look at him germing up the milk for everyone else."
"Ava," she tuts, and it's then that I realise my chances are next to none.
"Mum, please." I beg.
Question of the chapter: What do you think Harry got up to today, and what do you think he's keeping from Ava? Also, if your mother/father knew that you had slept with someone, how do you think they'd react?
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