SONG-MY HEAD HURT I NEED TO LIE DOWN; BONES
"I suppose this is the ending of the story that you call your life."
-
"There's no one home, you can come in if you want."
I gained a few inches by my front doorstep and he looked up at me, shielding his eyes from the sun. Harry cautiously stepped into my home after I stepped to the side to let him in, his face screaming uncertainty. Our bloodshot eyes connected and I chuckled when he stood in the same place for a few seconds too long. I gestured my head to the couch in front of the television and he squeezed his eyes shut. One hand reached up to ruffle his hair the way he does but he pushed it behind his neck and massaged the skin there. "A senior entering a sophomore's home seems a bit sketchy. I should go." I hadn't even shut the front door yet and he was already thinking about leaving.
I frowned at his first thought once entering my house. Usually people tell me I have a nicely decorated living room, but he was worried about how others would portray him which didn't make sense because no one knew he was here. "Think of it as two people just relaxing after smoking." Harry didn't care about what others thought of him. At least he made it seem like he didn't. It was the weed making him doubt himself. My tingling lips tingled as he reached for the door. "You can leave if you want to. I'm not forcing you stay." With that, I moved out of his way.
Harry's tall body towered over my short one and his clothes reeked of weed. Mine as well, my lips too. I sucked on them and he breathed heavily before taking a step back. "What's gotten into you?" I laughed and locked the door before sneaking out of the close space we managed to get ourselves into. Light flooded the room when I pulled up the blinds to scare the darkness away. Harry shielded his eyes for a minute before rubbing them to adjust to the sudden ambiance change.
"You sure it's okay for me to park in the driveway?" I shared it with my neighbor who happened to be my stepdad's cousin, but I didn't think anything of it.
"I think it's okay." There was a thin moment of silence and I clapped my hands together to transition into the topic of the food in my fridge. "I have donuts from my mom's job, lunch meat and pizza rolls. Your pick." Whenever I smoked, I was either starving or nauseous. This time I was nauseous; bringing someone new into your home could be pretty nerve racking. You open yourself up wider for that person only to be betrayed sooner or later. Harry didn't seem to be the type, though. I can't always shoot people down without giving them a single chance.
"What are pizza rolls?" He asked.
I pulled them out of the freezer to show him as I gulped back the bile rising in my throat. "They're like... little pockets of pizza. Sausage, cheese and pepper encased in a crispy dough for indulging." Talking about food made shit worse but I was done before I knew it.
He nodded.
"I also have ice cream, it'll probably help with-"
"I'm fine. I would just like a drink, if you don't mind." He leaned onto the counter and I scooted past him to get a glass from the cupboard across the room. "You have a nice home. It smells very good."
"Thank you." Unintentionally, I inhaled. As if I could tell the difference. I've been told my home smelled like coffee and vanilla air fresheners, slightly accompanied by the hint of cigarettes that my stepdad smoked when he got home late at night. I handed Harry his cup. "There's iced tea and lemonade." He looked at me like he was clueless. "Don't tell me you don't know what iced tea or lemonade is."
He laughed and rose from his leaning position on the counter. "I'm just waiting for you to get it out. I wouldn't want to be rude and get it myself."
I pointed at him and shook my head in approval. "I like you Harry, I like you a lot."
"I like your glasses."
By that time I had forgotten that I was still wearing them and I pushed them up the bridge of my nose. "Now is when you chant "four eyes" and traumatize me by bringing me back to when I was a little girl."
"Why would I? You can't help that your genes are alined a certain way. Who am I to judge."
I sighed as I poured him his glass of lemonade. "Sometimes you just gotta go with it. I knew you wouldn't do such a thing." After the glass was filled, I placed the pitcher back in the fridge and jumped up onto the counter to sit. "So. Tell me something about yourself."
"Why are you sitting on the counter." He took a sip and puckered his lips, sucking on his tongue a few times before taking another sip to be polite.
"Stop stalling."
Harry leaned against the refrigerator and pushed his head onto one of the pictures my mom put up with the magnet we got from our visit to Disney land when I was young. "My name is Harry Styles. 17 years of age. I'm from England."
"Which part?"
"You wouldn't know." He took another sip and looked out of the window above the sink. "I have a birthmark on the head of my penis."
I choked on my spit. "Jesus! We're twinning."
"Don't ever say that ever again. Please."
I hopped off the counter and held my stomach as I laughed. "What, twinning? What's wrong with twinning? I think that it's cute that we're both twinning and we have birthmarks on both of our private parts." When I walked over to him he tried to fight the smile off of his face, flinching when I dug my fingers into his sides and started tickling him. He held the glass above my head and giggled, the sound seeming absolutely pleasant.
"I'll pour this all over you." He threatened and I stopped.
"Can you get pimples on your dick? I've always wondered." I asked.
Harry's groaning cut me off and he walked into the dining room, holding the glass up to his mouth but not drinking. He stopped and looked at pictures in frames on the shelves on the walls. They were pictures from vacations when I was younger, everything from my 8th birthday and up was digitalized and my parents were too lazy to print them. He saw the picture of my dad and I taking a picture with a Star War's wax figure. The guys in the white suits, whatever they were called. "You were one ugly kiddo." He leaned into the shelf and tapped the picture, humming.
"I still am."
"Oh stop it."
My cheeks had been burning up for the past few minutes and I walked over to the mirror to see a redness forming. I panicked. "Harry? I think this shit is giving me some sort of allergic reaction. My cheeks are all red." My cold fingers frantically stretched the skin on my cheek bones, examining and pulling. I could see his reflection rushing over to mine and he set down his lemonade before quickly spinning me around. His hands found their way behind my thick hair, locking together and tilting my head towards the light. He looked down at my face and squinted, bringing his eyebrows together. "Do you see it?"
He sucked his teeth and let go of my face. "You're fucking blushing."
"I don't blush."
"Everyone blushes, Aida."
I scoffed and looked back into the mirror, seeing the "blush" go away slightly. "No, like. For real? I never blush."
"Doesn't mean you're not capable of it." Harry grabbed his lemonade glass once again and downed it all before walking back in the kitchen to place it in the sink. "That lemonade was very sweet."
"Why'd you drink it?"
"I didn't want to be rude."
Questioningly, I placed my hand on my chin and tilted my head as he walked back towards me in the dining room. "I have come to the conclusion that you're the type of person to do things you don't want to do just to please others." When saying this out loud, I realized that everyone has done this at least once, if not millions of times. Myself included. "Defending me in the parking lot today. You probably didn't want to do that but you did. Staying in my house. Drinking the lemonade."
He crossed his arms, looking at the watch on his wrist in the process. "It's easier being pleasant than being a dick, kiddo." He looked at his watch one last time and walked passed me into my living room, grabbing his car keys. "It was a pleasure. I have to get going now, though. Thank you for spending the evening with me." I hadn't even realized the frown forming on my face as he twisted the knob of my front door. "Try not to look so disappointed. All good things come to an end."
"Who said this was a good thing?" I got the last word as he opened the door and left. The worst thing was that I didn't get a chance to show him what was upstairs and I really wanted to.