Shiver

Last night was a bit strange; the cat fight with Harry, him apologizing. I was still in shock that he said he was sorry; though I wasn’t sure if he truly meant it; but why say it if you didn’t? I didn’t know him well enough to be positive, but he wasn’t the type to say he was in the wrong—it would be more fitting if he didn’t care that he upset me. It was nice of him to apologize; but that didn’t mean I forgave him completely for being an asshole. He was still an asshole—and that was that.

I woke up to find that my father and Anne were gone; a note was taped to the fridge, letting Harry and I know that they were out doing last minute wedding errands. I had almost forgotten about the wedding; Harold was taking my attention off that. I guess that was the only good thing that came out of this tiff we were in.
I helped myself to making breakfast; toast, eggs and some bacon that was in the freezer that I thawed out and started to fry. The eggs and toast were an easy task; the bacon was taking longer so I sat on the counter reading a magazine, and flipping each piece occasionally when needed. I had the radio playing, and I hummed along to a song, I was oblivious to the person in the kitchen with me, until they spoke.

“We were saving that bacon,” I hear Harry say; I smirked, and kept my eyes on the article I was reading.
“Sorry, I was hungry, and there is enough for you too, curls.” I kick my feet against the counter, feeling Harry’s eyes on me. I look up to catch him staring at my bare legs. I suddenly felt naked, even though I was wearing shorts and tank top; his stare made me feel like he had x-ray vision, and saw right through the articles of clothing. I shifted uneasily. He noticed, and averted his eyes to the stove where the food laid in frying pans.

“Do you need help?” I gaze at him funnily. Was I dreaming? Is he really offering to help me out?
“Are you really offering to help?” Harry frowned, and stirred the eggs with a spatula.
“Yes, and there isn’t enough eggs for me, I’ll make some more.” He went to the fridge and brought out the carton of eggs. He put the already made ones onto a plate, and cracked the new ones into the pan. He set it on the stove and moved onto buttering my toast. I watch in amazement, and he catches me, a smile animating his lips.

“What? Never seen a man cook before?”
He chuckled, stirring the eggs and taking my job as the bacon turner. I jump down from the counter to get a better look. I watch him as he stirs; his curly hair was messy, and fell into his eyes. He wore the same shirt from last night, a black short sleeved shirt, but changed into red and black flannel pajama bottoms. He looked rather…cute. I wanted to bite my tongue after thinking that; but it was true…none the less.

Breakfast for two was ready in no time with the help of one curly headed boy. We actually sat at the same table and had a civil conversation. We had a lot in common; same music taste, adored the same movies. I was surprised at how polite he was being; it felt nice. Maybe after all, the two of us could actually co-exist normally under the same roof. Hell, we’d be related in a couple of weeks; well, semi related…I’d have to stop thinking he was cute after his mum and my dad got married.

We were in the middle of discussing our parents when the door bell rang. I stared at him expectantly. It was his house; I was in no rush to answer it, but he just stared blankly back at me, so I took it upon myself to see who it was.

When I opened the door, a blonde girl wearing a short red cocktail dress that hugged her body in the right places stood, twisting a strand of her hair around one boney finger. Her fake nails were obnoxiously long; she wore thick black band lashes, her eye makeup was smeared. Round brown eyes stared me up and down abhorrently.
Harry came up from behind me, just as shocked as I was.

“Brittany, what are you doing here?” He asks. She flashes him a huge smile.

“I just came from Harmony’s. It was her birthday party last night and you didn’t show! I was sad.” She stuck out her bottom lip, making a pout. This chick was as plastic as Barbie. Harry knew girls like this? Oh wait. Why did I even ask that?

She sticks a finger in my direction. “Is this her? She’s not as ugly as you said she was.” Harry turns to look at me, his eyes widening.

“Uhm.” He stammered.

My heart dropped; here I was thinking that Harry was indeed an exceptional guy but I guess I was wrong. I ran upstairs, leaving Harry to deal with his tart of a girlfriend, ignoring him as he called after me. Ugly? Really? I can’t believe I fell for his act; making breakfast, the small talk and the smiles. He was toying with me. I wouldn’t forgive him for this one. No matter how many apologies I heard. I was done with Harry. Done.