HARRY
I think I'm in love.
Her big bright eyes look up at me with longing; begging me for something, anything. I try not to be caught staring too often when the reality is all I want to do is pick her up and hold her in my arms. I sneakily drop her a piece of my omelette and she catches it in her mouth before it hits the ground.
"Good girl," I beam down at Lola.
"Harry!" Lucy scolds from the seat next to me.
After last weekend's desperate call from Lucy as she single-handedly destroyed her bedroom, I've invited myself over for breakfast after yet another week of silence from Amy.
That, and I'm becoming obsessed with her cooking.
I wanted Amy to give Lucy time to cope with losing her husband before another massive blow hit her, but now she has completely disappeared and it's making things worse.
Lucy is blaming herself.
"What?" I chuckle through my words when her smile I'm becoming addicted to searching for, makes an appearance. "Is that the third rule? Don't feed Lola at the table?"
"No," she laughs, sipping on her coffee. "But now she'll never leave you alone."
"Why would I want that?" I exaggerate my baby voice to the squishy-faced dog at my feet. "She's annoying, Lola, don't listen to her. She doesn't understand our love!"
"Do you two need some time alone?" Lucy teases before we are interrupted by my phone ringing.
"Hey Mum," I mumble as I shove more of my breakfast into my mouth.
"Darling, don't talk with your mouth full," she reprimands.
Lucy gives me an, "I told you so" look, my mother's voice loud enough for her to hear from beside me.
I hold up my middle finger and her little gasp amuses me even more.
"What are you laughing at?" Mum asks.
"I'm at Jake's. Lucy's just being irritating, as usual," I joke, poking my tongue out at her.
"Oh, that's nice. I didn't know you were spending time there."
"Yep, and she can hear you so don't say anything bad about her," I grin as I watch Lucy roll her eyes.
"Hi, Mrs Styles," Lucy calls out.
"Hi Sweetheart," Mum responds, "Harry are you still coming for dinner tonight? You should bring Lucy with you. I'm not making anything fancy but I have plenty for the both of you."
I raise an eyebrow in question but Lucy looks straight down at Lola and I can see the anxiety bubbling.
"She'll be there," I answer for her, quickly adding, "She has a little dog, utterly adorable, you'll love her. Okay if she comes, too?"
Lucy's brow relaxes, her attention piqued to no doubt dissect the tone of my mother's answer.
"Of course! Fantastic, see you all at six. Love you."
"Love you, Mum," I end the call and Lucy looks like she wants to say something but it takes her a moment.
"She must have really missed you while you were away."
---
My parents' house is an hour drive without traffic so the fact that Lucy is running late is really starting to piss me off. If I have to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of here I will.
Pacing up and down past her bedroom I finally stop to tap my knuckles twice on the door.
"Luce, you good? We need to leave," I say against the wood. I knock again a little louder when the silence starts to worry me. "Lucy?"
"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm not going," her small voice causes my chest to feel like my ribs are strangling my heart.
"What do you mean? Can I come in?"
I take her lack of answer as an invitation, cautiously peering through the crack I made and pushing the door wide open when I find her sitting on the end of the bed.
"I'm a mess," she says.
My eyes scan the spotless room for hints on what the hell she could mean, the confusion firmly setting in as I stare at the girl before me who looks completely put together. Her blonde hair is soft and down, neatly falling over her shoulders and parted in the middle, as always. Her blue jeans are clean and hugging her hips while a tan coloured cardigan drapes over a fresh white t-shirt which matches her pristine white sneakers.
She can tell from the frown etched into my face that I'm not comprehending. She huffs impatiently like I'm the crazy one, holding out her arm to the side and pointing to a tiny hole in the seam on her cashmere knit.
My face drops in disbelief. Is she fucking serious?
Noticing my reaction, my insulting words thankfully not making it out of my mouth quick enough, she stands to start defending her irrationality.
"It's impolite to look sloppy, Harry," she snaps, her fingers combing through her hair and it's clear her anxiety is spiralling. "I can't go. Tell your mother I apologise."
Crossing her arms in defiance, or maybe self-protection, she sits again.
Her voice is strong, determined, settled.
There are a couple of things I've noticed about Lucy in the last couple of months. One of them is her constant, and close to debilitating, state of worry. I could always tell when she was with Jake that she was a little neurotic, but she lives her life thinking the worst is about to occur. From the thought of Lola running away at the park to her mother having a heart attack because she hasn't answered her last text message, she's always on high alert.
I guess it's not surprising considering what she's coping with but I am certain her anxiety is at a level that can be detrimental to her health if not dealt with.
The second thing I've realised is that when said anxiety tips too far over the edge, when she loses control or something unexpected occurs - like a hole in the sweater she was planning on wearing, she shuts down.
Completely.
She is so quick to make herself cold and unapproachable; bitchy and sullen.
The minute she is nervous or unsure or out of her comfort zone of minimal perfection, her defence mechanisms cut in and instead of becoming upset and moving on, she takes a giant, silent step back; isolating herself until someone pushes back through the wall she has just built.
It's common for animals to have anxiety issues, I see it constantly. There is always a range of reasons why they experience it and what can trigger it, from horrific physical abuse to simply just genetic disposition. However, the animal not being able to speak to us always makes it a little difficult to determine the cause. Process of elimination is usually the only way.
"Lucy," I say softly, trying not to startle the frightened creature as I take a seat beside her on the bed.
She immediately shifts to the furthest corner. Touch is an issue when she is like this.
"Can you look at me for a second?" I urge her to connect with me in another way if she can't physically.
She sighs, her eyes finding mine and I smile softly, trying to tame the wild thoughts that must be running rampant in her mind.
"Thank you. You don't have to go anywhere, all right? But, I'd really like you to come with me."
She takes in a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly before standing up.
"There's a hole in my favourite sweater, Harry," her voice is escalating. "Which must mean there are moths eating my clothes, and now I need to clean the entire wardrobe out before they get to everything and I have nothing left to wear."
I bite my tongue; telling her she is being psychotic is not the answer. My next response would be to reach out to her, to hold her hand or hug her or comfort her in the ways humans usually react when seeing someone upset, but I don't know if she's too wound up to let me.
I briefly wonder what Jake would have done but the thought makes my chest tighten.
"You know what's good for keeping moths away? Lavender oil. I'm sure my mum will have some. We can get some from her house."
Her eyes soften for a moment and I jump at the chance.
"Come on, let's go ask her. She won't care what you are wearing and we can quickly eat dinner so she won't be upset that she cooked for us. And besides, Lola is desperate to go out for a bit." I play dirty knowing there are no boundaries when it comes to her best friend.
She swallows harshly but her head nods in the affirmative just enough for me to see.
Victory.
---
"Hi, Mrs Styles nice to see you again," Lucy greets my mum and hands her a bottle of wine as we walk through the front door of my childhood home.
The car ride gave her fresh things to worry about and the moth situation seems to be fairly redundant.
"Hi Sweetheart, please call me Anne. How are you holding up? Oh, you poor love, I can't even imagine how the last couple of months have been," Mum fusses, her voice catching with emotion as she embraces the girl she's only met at the wedding and funeral of the same person.
The hug is warm from one side and awkward from the other.
My mum is the best person on the planet. I wasn't lying when I said she wouldn't care what Lucy is wearing, she would never judge anyone else for such meaningless shit. She is kind to the core, loving and warm. Everyone says we look similar, the same green eyes and dimpled smile but it's my love for animals and caring for something other than myself that I have inherited most from her.
"Thanks, Anne, I'm all right," Lucy's posture stiffens in my mother's arm.
"Mum, this is Lola," I interrupt the awkward hug, shoving the little dog into Mum's arms and she immediately becomes engrossed in her new four-legged friend, ushering us to follow her down the hallway.
The smell of potatoes and pumpkin roasting in the oven hits my nose and my mouth starts to water as my feet trudge down the Persian rug that softens the hardwood floors towards the kitchen.
Nothing has really changed in this house since I lived in it all those years ago. Our family photos still line the walls that are covered in a dated and faded floral wallpaper. The oldest photo is the first we took as a family of four, I was just days old and my sister, Gemma was a toddler. The newest one has us all dressed up just moments after the ceremony of Jake's wedding. I think I was already drunk.
The house isn't huge, but it's always been enough. Gem and I had our own bedrooms and a nice backyard to run around with our first dog, Hunter, and there were always people around; my aunts or cousins. My mum made sure there was room at the table and enough food for Jake or our friends to come over after school and stay for dinner.
Gemma and I moved out of this home as soon as we could, not because of anything negative, but we were raised to crave independence and make our own decisions about our lives, being held accountable for every one of them.
Lucy is polite as always but I can see her eyes scanning from wall to wall, over every surface, taking it all it.
"Mum refuses to throw shit out," I say in a hushed tone as I point towards the framed Mother's Day card my sister and I made when we were five and seven. The clutter in here is probably her worst nightmare.
"It's nice. So much love," she states.
"Is your Mum's house similar?" I tread carefully, knowing from the wedding that her dad is no longer around.
"No," a sad smile pulls at her lips but doesn't touch her eyes. "Nothing like it."
---
"No word of a lie, Lucy!" Mum squeals, the wine getting to all of us. "He used to come home from school with stray cats or injured birds, begging us to keep them," Mum throws her head back and Lucy wipes a tear from the corner of her eye after they both erupt into laughter.
"He was always hiding them from us, too. I thought he'd bring in some disease-ridden thing one day and that would be the end of us all," my dad chimes in and everyone laughs a little harder.
I look at Lucy and shrug comically. If putting up with a little roasting from my parents makes her smile like that then I'll gladly take it.
She seems finally at ease as she eats her last bite of chocolate cake and her eyes dart casually to check on Lola sleeping soundly in the corner by the TV.
Dad reaches across the table and pours everyone another glass of wine.
My dad isn't the most modern of men, he still goes hunting for geese and ducks and pheasant when the season's right, he still heads to the pub every night after work with the lads and still believes in opening doors and serving ladies first.
He may be a simple man but he always taught me to treat people with kindness and value three things above all else; family, a good meal and a sense of humour.
"Thank you again for dinner, it was delicious," Lucy says.
"You're welcome any time, Dear. Do you cook?" Mum asks, taking a sip from her glass.
"I try," Lucy says and I scoff, causing everyone to look at me.
"She's being modest, she's annoying like that," I tease too loudly and Lucy gasps in mock offence. I challenge her with my raised eyebrows and she swats my shoulder playfully as I proclaim, "She's the most amazing cook!"
"Is she?" Mum rests an elbow on the table and holds her head in the hand.
"After you Mum, of course," I grin, before shooting a wink at Lucy who is giggling hard.
"Well, maybe you could help me cook breakfast tomorrow morning?" Mum suggests.
What?
"We're leaving soon," I say at the same time Lucy announces, "Oh, no, we can't stay."
"Nonsense, you have both had too much to drink to get behind the wheel," Mum starts to say before realising the connection to Jake and biting her lip.
"I don't have my licence anyway," Lucy states, looking at me for the answer.
My dad clears his throat to ease the uncomfortable silence that has filled the space around us. "Harry, you are both welcome to stay in your old room. Unfortunately, we turned Gemma's old room into a study.
His tone means this is the only option. I already know that no taxi will take us that far without Lola in a proper carrier and there is no possible way Lucy will leave her here for the night.
"I'll just wait a few hours to sober up."
I glance at Lucy and nod in assurance.
"It's already late," the surprise in her voice as she checks the time matches my face.
"C'mon Anne, let's set up the air mattress for Harry, and Lucy can sleep in his old bed. Right, son?"
"Of course, yeah," I don't question his expectation of chivalry.
--
"Cool pyjamas," I tease Lucy as she walks into my childhood bedroom in a navy silk nightshirt and matching trousers with tiny daisies printed all over them that belong to my mum.
"You too," she laughs as I look down and see my father's local hunting club t-shirt swimming on my frame. He has dozens of shirts but the cheeky smirk he gave me when he handed me this one made me laugh.
Lucy sits cross-legged at the head of the tiny double bed and I leave for a moment only to retrieve her most prized possession that I know will ease her mind and allow her to actually sleep soundly.
Lola can barely open her tired eyes as I carry her easily into the room and place her on the bed next to Lucy. I take a seat at the opposite end, my posture matching the smiling blonde sitting amongst the pillows.
"If only fifteen-year-old Harry could see the beautiful girl in my bed," I smile and I see her cheeks colour, "And you too, Lucy."
Her belly laugh sets mine off and my eyes are screwed shut when a pillow thumps into the side of my head.
I freeze with effect, my mouth opens in exaggerated shock and just as I start to crawl towards her for a little revenge she picks up Lola and holds her close to her chest with a bold smile spread across her features and an audacious, "Careful of Lola!" that makes us both laugh. Not letting her get away with it, I reach for her barefoot instead, tugging on her toe until she squeals and her cackle hits my ears.
When she shifts under the covers and I take my cue to roll onto the air mattress my parents have set up.
It feels strange to be in my old room. My mum has always promised to turn it into something useful but Gemma's larger bedroom for the study was the priority and so my bedroom has largely been left untouched.
Nostalgia hits hard as I look around at the posters on the walls, the shelves full of adolescent memories and keepsakes I thought mattered most at the time but not enough to take with me when I moved out. There are still a couple of photos in frames of my old friends; a young Jake sitting on my shoulders in one and I never would have imagined I that photo would be looking over us while his widow lay in my bed and he lay in the ground.
I turn to switch off the bedside lamp to find Lucy watching me thoughtfully, her hand combing through Lola's short fur and her other hand under her head as she lies on her side.
"You all right?" I ask in a hushed voice, the house now silent and I shuffle onto my hip to mimic her body language.
"Yeah, just thinking," she mumbles and normally I wouldn't ask for anything more than she's willing to give but tonight it feels like something has shifted. Maybe it's the wine, or the neutral territory or the innocence trapped in this room but tonight I don't feel like she's just someone I know through Jake.
"What about?" I ask. The soft light illuminates her skin with a warm glow, Lola's gentle snoring the only sound and for a split second, I debate getting into the bed and lying next to her just to be closer.
But I don't.
"I like your room," she says sweetly. "Suits you."
There is nothing cold about the English Rose right now.
"It's weird sleeping in here again... with you," I admit and watch as she takes a deep breath in. She's not offended, just lost in thought.
"Isn't it strange how as teenagers our bedrooms reflect our personality so much? Like we want to broadcast everything about ourselves so loudly," she nods to the movie posters and photos of me with my old dog, a stack of CDs and sporting trophies.
She's right, all the things I loved as a kid cover every square inch of this room.
"What was in your room?" I can't explain the way my stomach flips.
I love that she smiles at this, part of me fearing that her childhood was the cause of her constant distance from people she upholds.
"I was into cheesy pop-music. Boy-bands and girl groups; give me anything with matching outfits and choreographed dances and I'm in love," she giggles, staring at the ceiling and I wait for her to give me more.
"I also really loved horses. I always wanted a pony but my mum and dad never let me, I used to have pictures of them all over my walls and buy these equestrian magazines just to look at the riders. They looked so elegant and in control."
My eyes snap to her but she is still looking away. She mentions her mother a lot, but never her father.
"Horses are amazing creatures. The rider has control, sure, but it's the animal that is the elegant one."
She nods, her eyes drift to lock with mine.
"I never thought about it like that. You're right."
A/N
Long one for you!
i hope you guys are obsessed with H&L...because I am!
Lucy is a complicated little thing isn't she! What do you think is going on with her?
thanks for reading and VOTING!
get ready for more of their little slumber party!
Love Ruby
x
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