Sleeping Sun

When I woke, I found I was alone in bed. I looked around the room for Harry but he had vanished. The curtains had been drawn and it was almost completely black. Harry liked it dark so he could sleep in. I guess it works, because when I stared at the alarm clock, it read 12:30 p.m. I had slept in longer than I planned on. But it was nice not having to wake up at six every morning just to avoid your parents.

Harry didn’t have that problem. His parents were never home. It was usually just him; his sister moved out on her own last year, so he’s been grateful for the company me or the guys give him. I wish I was home alone most the time. But I knew it bothered Harry that he never saw his parents; he could try and hide the fact that it didn’t, but I knew him too well for him to try and pretend with me.

After I slipped on the clothes that Harry left me, and fetched my phone from my still damp jeans, I went downstairs. Immediately, the smell of sizzling bacon hit my nose. My stomach roared, and I had forgotten the last time I ate. I found Harry in the kitchen; he was standing in front of the stove, fixing up a late breakfast.

“Whatcha’ doin’?” I asked, taking a seat at the table. I adored Harry’s house, but more so his kitchen. The walls were brick, and the appliances were updated, but it had a homey feel to it; weird to say because his parents were hardly ever home, and never cooked or ate in the kitchen. Harry had become a chef; I guess that happens when you have to make your own meals all the time.

“Just whipping us up some breakfast. Bacon and eggs, still your favourite right?” I nodded.

“Has and always will be,” I reply, getting up and walking over to him. I watch him as he cooks, a spatula in one hand, stirring the eggs, then flipping the bacon. His curls were a mess, and hung in his eyes. I smile, taking my hand and pushing them out of the way. He turns his head, and stares at me.
It felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out; why was I feeling a love struck puppy? This was Harry for fucks sake! I needed to snap out of it. I broke eye contact, and it seemed he had caught on to the awkwardness he had been inflicting.

“Grab two plates and silverware, please.” I nod, and quickly fetch the things he asked for. I set two plates out at the table and two forks beside them. Harry was behind me with the food, and put everything on the plates at an equal amount. That was Harry, always being fair. We sat down and in unison, and began to stuff our faces. I couldn’t deny him the fact that he could cook; but I wouldn’t dare exclaim how much I loved his food. It would go straight to his head—and we didn’t want that.
I was half way done with my food when Harry set down his fork, and turned to me. Here we go.

“Can we talk about last night?”
I was hoping he would just leave it be; I didn’t want the fact that we hooked up (again) to linger. Last time, we didn’t speak for a couple of weeks. I knew this time it wouldn’t be that extreme, but the last thing I wanted was an awkward tension between Harry and I. He was the one person I could go to when my life goes to shit. He made me happy again; and last night was a moment I wouldn’t want to forget—ever.

“What about it?” I ask, making light of the matter. I didn’t want this memory tainted with an argument over what having sex made us. We sure as hell weren’t a couple, nor fuck buddies. We were strictly best friends that were highly attracted to one another who hooked up twice—nothing more.

“Don’t do this,” He said, staring at me, his eyes holding a twinge of sadness. I wanted to launch across the table and kiss him. I’d have him again if I could. But it would just complicate what we have going. I had a tough enough situation at home to deal with; having tiffs and a dysfunctional relationship wouldn’t mix well with my already dysfunctional family.

“Do what Harry?” I ask blankly, my mood taking a spiraling turn down.

“I really—“ he was cut off by my obnoxious ringtone. I stare down at the screen, and a picture of Niall pops up. I smile, mentally thanking him from interrupting a conversation I didn’t want to finish with Harry.

“Who is it?” He asks, giving me the ‘if you answer while I’m talking to you, you’ll be sorry’ look. I give him an innocent smile, and click the answer button.

“Hello Niall.”

Harry rolls his eyes and pushes his plate away. He scowls at the wall and crosses his arms. Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning.
I tried to concentrate on what Niall was rambling about, but I kept my eyes and attention on the now mad Harold. He didn’t look at me once while I was on the phone. So I had to cut my conversation with Niall short, and try to bandage up things with my best friend.

“Okay Niall, I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and placed my phone down on the table. Harry stared at me from the corner of his eye.

“What did he want?” He snaps, standing and taking our plates away to the sink.

“I’m helping him paint Ms. Willard’s shed.”

Harry let out a chuckle. “That old woman has a thing for him, he needs to be careful.” I smile, glad that his sour attitude had gone.

“Yeah, I’m basically going to be the body guard. I have to make sure she doesn’t try and slip a roofie in his lemonade.”

I get up from the table, and make my way to Harry.

“Hey, we’ll talk when I get back.”

He grins, and pulls me into him. “You promise?” he asks, leaning down at brushing his lips against my ear. My entire being felt on fire; I had to get out of this house stat.

“I have to go to my house and change, I’ll bring your clothes back later.”

I kissed him on the cheek and bolted to the front door. He was seriously going to be the death of me.

***

I met Niall at Ms. Willard’s. He was pissed at me for not being prompt with my timing. He hated being alone with her. I wouldn’t blame him. Ever since her husband died, she turned into a cougar. But she’s always had a little crush on Niall; even when Mr. Willard was alive—sickening it was.

“Sorry I’m late, I was over at Harry’s.” I wouldn’t tell Niall about last night. He wouldn’t understand the relationship Harry and I have. Sometimes I never understood it.

“It’s okay…she hasn’t tried raping me yet. With you here I’ll be safe.”

Ms. Willard’s house was always kept maintained. The lawn was always freshly cut; her rose garden always looked healthy. She’s had her shed painted four times this year; anything that relates to getting sweaty and dirty, she hires Niall or some other poor teenage boy. The only reason any of them agree is the hefty payment. Her husband owned his own car dealership, and when he died, she sold it. Ms. Willard will never have to worry about money again.

“How’s life?” I casually ask Niall, dipping my paint brush into the pan. This year’s colour is a burgundy. An ugly colour for a shed, if you ask me.

“Not so good. My mum found my porn stash. I’m not allowed to leave the house, only for work.”
Niall’s parents are strict; he grew up sheltered, and still pretty much is. So when he breaks out of his shell, it’s a huge deal. It’s good to see him have fun, because I know at home, he’s tripped of it.

“Damn. I told you under the mattress was cliché and the most obvious place.” Niall frowned, his paint strokes slowing.
“I know. I’m stuck at work or home for a week. I don’t understand why, porn is a natural thing in a teenage boy’s life. He’s simply lost without his Playboy.”

I shook my head. Only Niall.