warning: brief mention of death
✩︎
HANA
I only see five minutes of Harry at lunch, him and the rest of the counsellors dropping by the dining hall to grab a sandwich before heading back out to set up the next game. Thankfully, I'm the subject of his burning gaze and bright smile for the entire time he's in the room.
Fortunately, he manages to reach dinner, our group of five sitting together and chatting casually whilst eating a record-breaking amount of fries. Harry's hand on my leg the entire time, his fingertips occasionally trail upwards, teasing me as a possible preview for tonight.
Eventually, I swat his wandering hand away and place it back on my knee, allowing him to draw circles and scribe words into my skin, the slightly ticklish feeling more than welcome.
He hasn't mentioned our flirtatious exchange of notes or asked if I had listened to his albums, instead discussing random topics with everyone. All of us are laughing constantly, although Harry winces every so often, probably due to his injured ribs.
He's wearing the sunglasses again but has a lack of concealer to hide the inflamed skin where he had been slapped, which is as big an improvement we can hope for. I, unfortunately, would have to wait until to tonight to inspect his eye, the excited shivers that rack my body doubling with each hour that ticked past whilst holed up in my cabin alone, multiplying by an unnamed amount when I returned after dinner to see another note placed on the desk, again addressed to me on the back.
'Cherrypop,
I know I am, I even rock a black eye.
Tell me what you thought tonight.
Repeat of Tuesday and finish last night? You're too kind to me.
I'm all in.
Meet me at my cabin at 11.
- H x
P.S: IT'S WHAT I DO BEST'
I fight the wide smile that threatens to form, resting my head in my hands and shaking it slightly with a small laugh, falling backwards onto my bed with thoughts of how I had managed to get this boy to pay even an ounce of attention to me all I could think of.
What did I do to deserve this? To deserve him?
I physically shake my head in a feeble attempt to dispel the insecurities that were weaselling their way into my mind, the thoughts eventually battle out of my brain by images of Harry and his perfect smile and his soft, loving words.
I think I could easily fall in love with Harry at any moment and I wouldn't even be scared of the inevitable heartbreak that comes with all relationships, all risks that are taken, as long as I get to be close to him for a while. As long as he's mine, even just for the summer.
I think I'm more than halfway already.
Thoughts of this simply being a bit summer fun for Harry replace - I'm an overthinker, as always; images of him doing this every year with a different girl, making them fall for his easy smirk and humorous charm, only to ruthlessly snap their heart in two on the last day of camp, telling them it's over and they would be forced to return home with a tear-streaked face and a broken heart, because whose heart wouldn't shatter upon finding out someone, no less Harry, didn't love you the way you love them. Maybe I'm just the impossibly lucky (eventually unlucky, I suppose) subject of his games this year.
Did it have to be me?
If Amy or anyone else had shown even the slightest bit of a lack of interest in him, would he be planning dates and kissing them instead? Is it just about the chase? Proving to me and himself that even with my unimpressed first expression, he could still get me to fall for his charm with the click of his fingers.
I don't realise how deeply I'm falling into my chaotic imagination until a bird chirps by the window, snapping me from my wandering thoughts. Washing my face in the bathroom quickly, I study my face in the mirror, nose scrunching at the mess of hair atop my head.
Regardless of his true intentions, Harry chose you, I tell myself, hoping I could fake my confidence enough to battle the insecurities setting up camp in my mind.
Once I gather my thoughts enough to fix my hair, I pull on Harry's hoodie, inhaling deeply to breathe in the familiar scent of vanilla and comfort, like I could feel his arms wrapped around me in a warm hug. His hugs could give Ella's a run for her money. They're like a thousand kisses all at once, kisses from angels sent down from heaven, and at the moment I hear Harry's voice, I'm convinced he is one himself.
Most people are sat around the fire, a few chatting in an expanse of empty grass nearby, Harry strumming the strings lightly. He smiles discreetly in my direction as I take a seat on the opposite side, flames coloured a thousand different shades of orange and red separating us, though his eye contact that never wavers from mine heating my body as I were on fire myself.
I don't quite recognise this tune, it must be from his most recent album, or maybe a new song that he had written with his purple guitar, covered in stickers, sitting cross-legged on his bed with a pencil between his teeth and his brows furrowed.
If that is the case, I wonder about the inspiration behind it. Somehow, this one feels as if more about himself, and accepting who he is, than a song about love or heartbreak.
He completes the melody, much to the disappointment of me and the rest of the girls around me, it seems, many of them fawning over Harry as if he were the last man on Earth.
A surge of jealousy rushes through me, my feet carrying me to him before I can overthink it. My lips come down to his ear from behind him, the girls still attempting to talk to him, and I tug his hair, light enough to not be noticed by anyone but more than hard enough for Harry to have felt it, judging by the sharp, pleasured breath he took. "I can't wait to touch you tonight. Can't wait for you to touch me. Might have to do it myself a few times before our date." His mouth falls open, breathing quickening at my words, turning around to respond, but I'm already gone, on my way to the cabin.
The next hour is spent procrastinating on what to wear, not that I have many options; I certainly hadn't packed for a summer camp romance. He had recommended wearing something warm, so I nervously choose jeans and a t-shirt, Harry's Backstreet Boys hoodie over the top to keep me warm.
It's a bit of a stretch, but I ensure to wear the nicest underwear I have stored in my messy drawers in preparation for tonight, hoping something would happen. I think I would maybe do anything he asked without a second thought. Excitement is the only emotion I could feel running through my veins, excited to see him, kiss him, hopefully, touch him, and for our date.
Ella and the other girls arrive back to the cabin around 9:30PM. Penny slips me a subtle questioning glance as to why I'm dressed, but I ignore it, not needing anyone else to be aware of Harry and I - it would only complicate things further. Ella remains awake with me, Kimi and Penny falling to sleep about half an hour ago, and interrogates me for the full story of 'Charry', as she hadn't asked me yet.
The watch on my wrist beeps a few times, informing me that I need to leave.
"Have fun, there is no such thing as too much fun, just don't get pregnant, even though your kids would be gorgeous, okay, love you, bye," she calls after me as I flip her off at her insinuation. She grins sarcastically before disappearing back into the cabin. I exhale deeply, mustering the courage to knock on Harry's door, the barricade swinging open only a second later to present bright green eyes and adorable dimples.
"I brought you the first album back, not listened to Fine Line yet," I announce, suddenly remembering the tape in my back pocket, which I place in his palm.
"That's alright, what did you think?" he asks, pulling me into the room and shutting the door with his back.
"It was amazing," I tell him truthfully, wrapping my arms around his neck to kiss him shortly, his hands on my waist.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm, made me cry."
"Is that a good or a bad thing?" he inquires curiously, face barely an inch from mine.
"Very good."
"Good. Ready for our date?" our lips are practically touching, but neither of us gives in to our shared desire to kiss the other.
"Yeah, wore something warm like you said," I gesture to my clothes, a small smile gracing his pretty lips.
"Good girl," he cradles my face in his palms and kisses me forcefully for a few moments before breaking away and taking my hand, leading me outside.
"Where are we going?" I ask absently, Harry tugging my hand when I slow down, stopping at the side of his cabin where the forest was much thicker, birds fluttering through the trees and a hoot of an owl or two being the only audible noise aside from mine and Harry's breathing. Quietly, he points upwards, my eyes catching on a warm light flooding from something halfway up one of the trees.
"Come on," he hops over a few fallen branches, beginning to climb a sturdy wooden ladder that I hadn't seen previously as it's hidden in a small clearing surrounded by towering trees. When he disappears into a small treehouse, big enough for about three people, I follow him, scaling the ladder carefully, gasping when I reach the top. The walls are covered in fairy lights and posters beneath them, soft blankets and puffy cushions placed on the floor, a bowl of cheesy fries in the middle of the tiny room.
"You did this?"
"Yeah, the treehouse has been here for years and I thought this was really the only place we could go aside from my cabin. Do you like it?" his voice is rushed and shaky, like he's nervous, for what reason I'm not entirely sure.
"I love it," I reply, crawling through the small entrance and finding a place to sit. It's much more spacious than it appears now that I'm in here, my legs stretching out and my head at least a foot from the ceiling.
"I know it's probably not the best date you've ever been on bu—"
"Harry, it is the best date I've been on and it's barely even started. I love it," I reassure him, hoping my words can help iron out some of his unneeded insecurities. He smiles anxiously, eating a nacho and looking around the walls.
"This is Spider-man, and, um, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles," he gestures to a few of the posters adorning the walls, his cheeks pink and hand slightly shaky. "Put those up when I was like ten," he explains, clearly feeling embarrassed.
"Don't know why you're embarrassed about those when it should be that one you should be hiding," I tease, pointing to a poster of Take That on the opposite. His blush deepens, shifting his body to hide the photo.
"I, um, put that up like five years ago."
"Funny, considering that poster was released about six months ago," the corners of my lips twitch upwards as his face falls, realising he had been called out.
"I don't know how it got in here. Must have been someone else, a prank by one of the other counsellors," he explains, stuttering out the first words that come to his mind, narrowing his eyes as I purse my lips to prevent the laugh threatening to burst from my lips and nod.
"Of course, baby. I'm sure that's what happened."
"Shut up," he mumbles, his face impossibly red from the embarrassment.
"Harry, can I ask you something?" he nods, telling me to go ahead, "...where's your mom?" my brows are furrowed, finally asking the question I had been wondering for a while.
He takes a deep breath as if trying to remember, "uh, right now... Italy, I think. She left when I was five, decided she wasn't a family person."
His tone is flat, void of any distinguishable emotion. He turns and lays down flat, and I follow naturally, facing the opposite way so our feet were next to each other's head.
"I'm sorry, I wouldn't have asked—"
"It was years ago, I'm fine. Can't really remember life with her anyway," he dismisses it, both of us every so often taking a fry whilst we stretch out and talk about everything.
"Do you still see her at all?"
"She used to visit twice a year and send us postcards from whatever country she was in. Cut off all contact just after my seventeenth birthday though, called my dad and told him she didn't want anything to do with us anymore. 'mm not sure why."
"Sorry, Harry. You really do deserve better," I frown, wondering how anyone could ever hurt this beautiful boy next to me.
"What about you? Parents? Siblings?"
"My mom is great, aside from Ella, she's my best friend. I tell her pretty much everything. My dad's in the army, so I've not seen him in about six months. He's in Afghanistan right now. He's pretty high up in the ranks though, so we get to call him every week. And we send him presents a lot. And I have one brother, Adam."
"What's he like?"
"Amazing. He would love you."
"How old is he?"
"He was nineteen when he died."
Harry sits up abruptly to study my expression, thumb stroking my face gently, "shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ask—"
"It's alright. It was two years ago, kinda accepted it now," he flops back down, his hands clasped over his stomach.
"How did he...?"
"In the army."
"I'm sure he was the best big brother."
"He was. He was really funny and would always leave from hanging out with his friends to make it back for our Friday night movie. He was the best cook, always made a full English breakfast for everyone since he was twelve, every Saturday morning," I voice whatever I think, admittedly enjoying talking about Adam to someone who doesn't burst into tears at the first mention.
"I would've loved to meet him."
"Me too. He was basically the carbon copy of my dad, so you technically can," I reply, ignoring the fact that I just assumed he'll ever meet my parents.
"I would be honoured. And your mom. Anyone you want me to meet, I'm all in," he says, his words light and airy but I hear a more serious tone beneath them, "Cherrybaby?"
"Yeah?"
"I mean it. I'm all in."