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The brisk December air rubbed against Kit’s bare knees as she stepped out of the house, but it wasn’t as chilly as she’d expected. As she fell into step beside Harry, she was aware her entire body was warm. Ignorantly, she believed it was caused by the contrast from the warm house, or the few drinks she’d had, and not the prospect of being alone with her handsome childhood crush.

As they walked side-by-side down the driveway, the noise from the party inside dimmed, making way for the lull between Harry and Kit. She didn’t want to feel awkward by the silence, but quietly walking alongside Harry for reasons unknown to her was unnerving. Biting her tongue from asking him why he wanted to walk in the cold with her, and just her, she exhaled, wracking her brain for a light conversation topic.

“Look!” she blurted out suddenly, her voice contrastingly loud against the hush. She pointed down the driveway, indicating to a tree stump across the narrow road. “Do you remember?” she wondered, not waiting for an answer before she bolted down the driveway and quickly crossed the street.

Harry snickered to himself, watching Kit run down the driveway, cocktail tress blowing against her winter white legs and heavy gumboots hindering her ability to run fast. He was surprised Kit had agreed to walk with him, but his ideas ended there. He knew nothing could – or would – happen with her, and he found himself wishing he could be disrespectful to the boyfriend he’d never met and make a move on her. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t. Being a gentleman was a real kick in the nuts sometimes.

“You didn’t even look both ways!” Harry called out to Kit, breaking into a jog to catch up with her. He hoped she wasn’t running to get away from him, but then reminded himself that they weren’t eight. “Didn’t you learn a thing in kindergarten?”

Kit hopped up onto the stump, spinning around to face Harry. “I learned how to be the King of the Castle!” she announced with a grin, triumphantly spreading her arms. “And you’re the Dirty Rascal,” she added tauntingly.

Harry exhaled loudly, catching his breath as he stopped in front of the stump. “Only because you had a head start,” he told her, kicking at a piece of root protruding from the ground and knowing he’d have let her win a real race anyway. He gazed up at Kit, watching her toe her muddy boot against the wood before looking back at the house, trying to catch his bearings and recall the memory Kit so easily remembered.

“Was this the treehouse?” he asked after a moment, suddenly remembering the derelict fort, dangerously balanced in the large tree and inciting warnings from all of the parents on the road. When the property owners had discovered the neighbourhood children were sneakily playing in the treehouse, they boarded it up and wrote letters to the newspaper editor, scolding the parents on their lack of control over their offspring. But a few boards and nails hadn’t stopped the rambunctious kids of Byley Road and though she would argue it to the death and blame her older brother, everyone knew the person who pried the first nail out of the moldy board was Kit. When the attempts to board up the treehouse didn’t work, Mr. and Mrs. Thorton did the only thing they could think of, and chopped down the large oak tree.

“Ding, ding, ding!” Kit replied, her elbows tucked against her sides as she raised her fists and shook her hips in an odd celebratory dance. “Such a waste, isn’t it?” Kit pondered, spinning in a slow circle, arms spread. “If the great man took the great axe, and cut down the great tree, and let it fall into the great sea, what a splish splash that would be!” she recited, easily remembering the old nursery rhyme from grade school.

Harry chuckled, watching the skinny free bird dance atop the stump. “At least it makes for a good stage now,” he determined, deciding to do what’d wanted to do since Kit bounded onto the stump, and stepped up beside her. The base of the tree trunk wasn’t overly large, and his stomach tumbled at their sudden close proximity.

Kit laughed loudly at his comment, the decibel of her giggle more to do with his accompanying her on the stump and not his joke. “Better than the O2?” she wondered, continuing to precariously spin around on the stump. She was careful not to step too close to Harry, though wondered if he was a good dancer.

“Of course,” answered Harry honestly, awkwardly clasping his hands behind his back as he kept his eyes on her. The O2 didn’t have Kit.

“I think you’re – oh!” Kit interrupted herself as her foot slipped against the wood, causing her to stumble against Harry. Instinctively, he caught Kit by her elbow, keeping her from falling from the stump. As Kit regained her footing, Harry kept his hands on her arms, unable to let himself let her go. Their bodies were suddenly pressed against one another, and if he just dipped his head a bit, he could kiss her. Kevin or no Kevin, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more.

Kit’s eyes were wide; partially due to the shock from her slip, but more to do with her closeness to Harry and the feeling of his grip on her arms. She watched his eyes dart between her own eyes and her lips, and as she heard his hitched breath, her eyes widened more as she came to the shocking realisation that he was about to kiss her. She stared at his lips, realising she wanted to kiss him, too.

The revelation didn’t surprise her – she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss Harry since she first started thinking about kissing boys. She knew she could kiss him. No one was around, and Kevin would never find out. But despite his flaws and lack of redeeming qualities, she was still committed to Kevin and knew if he was kissing childhood crushes under the bright December moon, she would be gutted. And while she couldn’t be sure, she was fairly certain Harry would beat himself up over kissing a taken girl. She couldn’t let him feel that way.

“Thanks!” Kit told Harry after just a few moments passed, her voice overly enthusiastic as she forced herself to sound breezy and not think about what it would be like if she kept her mouth shut. She flashed Harry a toothy grin before disengaging herself from his grasp and jumping off the stump, as though not touching Harry would make all of her thoughts about kissing him disappear. As she took off running across the open field – no one in their neighbourhood believed in fences – she looked over her shoulder to Harry and called out, “hurry up, Dirty Rascal!”

Harry exhaled loudly as he watched Kit run across the field. He had been so close to finally kissing her, it took him a moment to come back down to reality. As she took off running from him, he felt small and defeated, and had to wonder what he was doing literally chasing after a girl who clearly only looked at him as a friend. He wondered if he should give up, go back inside and collect his mother, and stop thinking about the girl once and for all. But he knew that, try as he might, he would never be able to forget about her.

With another sigh, Harry dutifully jumped off the stump and ran after Kit, catching up to her in just a few long strides. She laughed over her shoulder at him, slowing down as Harry fell into step beside her. She smiled at him, appearing sheepish and causing his heart to ache for her.

“Kit, I…” Harry began, sticking his hands deep into his pockets to avoid grabbing hers. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to her, and wondered if there was anything that could be said to make the situation less awkward.

“Oh, good!” Kit interrupted suddenly, not wanting Harry to say anything to her about the almost kiss that could have been. It was better to forget about it. She pointed as they walked past a cluster of trees, revealing a wooden swing set. “It’s still here!”

Harry eyed the swing set warily. It was weathered and decrepit, and looked as though it would crumble under any weight put on it. While Kit was slight, he didn’t think the swing set could handle even her weight. The smell of wet wood wafted from the swing set, caused by years of being in the elements without any protective treatment on the wood.

“You’re not going to sit on that, are you?” Harry asked as Kit approached the swings. She settled onto one of the swings, grinning at him as she ran her feet along the ground, obtaining momentum.

“No, silly,” she told him, beginning to pump her legs. “I’m going to swing on it!”

“Jesus Christ.” Harry muttered, hearing the swing set creak under the sudden usage. He wrung his hands nervously as he watched Kit pump her thin legs under the swing. “So, you think because I save you from falling off the stump that I can save you from this thing?” he wondered, trying to remember the laws of motion and how far she would actually fall if the swing broke mid-motion.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Kit told Harry teasingly, tickled by his apprehension. “Come swing!”

Harry realised then that Kit could ask him to do anything, and he would. Gingerly, he settled himself on the seat but opted out of swinging. Instead, he rested his feet against the dirt ground, watching Kit fly through the air. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know?” he asked her, his laugh letting Kit know that while he was serious, and she was, it was endearing to him.

“I know,” answered Kit matter-of-factly, looking down at Harry and laughing at the pained look on his face as he watched her. He looked like a nervous mother, waiting for the inevitable injury. His concern for her was so adorable, Kit found herself slowing down, letting her legs dangle motionless as the swing came to a slow stop.

“You look as though you’re about to have a heart attack,” she teased him, stomping her feet against the ground to steady herself. “Don’t worry, Grandpa… I’ve stopped now,” she added, laughing again as the anxious scowl on his face segued into a look of relief.

“Grandpa…” Harry echoed, his tone a mutter. He could think of a hundred things he would love for Kit to call him, and Grandpa was not one of them. He knew the comment wasn’t meant maliciously, so he let it roll off of his back, focusing on tracing figure eights with his foot against the dirt instead. The former silence between the two of them crept back into the atmosphere, neither one of them knowing what to say after their almost kiss. Quietly, Kit and Harry pushed their feet against the dirt, both of them intently focusing on the ground and internally begging the other to say something.

“I was there, you know,” Kit said suddenly, glancing up at Harry and offering him an uncharacteristically shy smile, spinning the swing in a lazy circle.

“Where?” asked Harry, her left field comment confusing him.

“The O2,” Kit replied, the shy smile still apparent on her face. “In April.”

“Oh?” asked Harry, his voice still coated with confusion. Small talk wasn’t what he’d expected. “Who did you see?”

Kit snickered, shaking her head incredulously. “You, you dolt!” she laughed, playfully kicking her leg in Harry’s direction. She smiled again, her shyness at the situation still apparent. “I was there for Zayn though, obviously…” she added jokingly, attempting to shake the awkward feeling she had. She wanted to tell him more, tell him how her heart swelled with pride when she saw him take the stage, how her eyes welled with tears when he sang Little Things and how she surprised herself when she wondered what it would be like to have him sing a song like that to her. But even though the concert was pre-Kevin and she was allowed to have her feelings, she couldn’t tell them to Harry. Not now.

Hearing that Kit had been at one of the band’s concerts surprised Harry. Usually when his friends attended shows, he knew about it – and gave them the tickets. Kit had gone on her own accord, and spent her own money to see him. He felt flattered, but more so, he felt hopeful.

“Why didn’t you let me know?” Harry asked her. “We could have hung out… You could have met Zayn,” he added, shadowing his feelings with a flimsy attempt at humour.

Kit chuckled loudly, pushing her feet off the ground again. “I tried,” she laughed to Harry. “Timothy wouldn’t give me your number! He said I’d sell it. But… I might have, actually…” Kit determined after a moment, shrugging nonchalantly. “Could have made a proper killing doing that,” she added, giggling again. She looked down at Harry, hoping he knew she wasn’t going to sell his number now.

“Don’t worry,” she added for good measure. “I probably won’t sell your number now.” She punctuated her comment with a bright grin, leaving it up to Harry to determine whether or not she was truthful.

Harry beamed, pleased that Kit had attempted to see him, unsuccessful or not. “I trust you,” he promised Kit. “At least now you have it, and… if I don’t change it on you, we’ll probably be able to hang out,” he teased, keeping his tone light but his sentence having serious undertones.

“Probably, huh…” Kit echoed, matching Harry’s smile. A deep-down nagging warned her that spending more time with Harry wouldn’t be the wisest of choices, but she ignored the thoughts. She could handle the situation… assuming it got to the point where it needed handling.

“So… are we really going to hang out?” Kit wondered, wrinkling her nose at Harry as she looked down at him, her braid flying behind her as she pushed back and forth on the swing. “I mean, I want to, but… Why do you want to? I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m actually not that entertaining,” she added with a snicker.

Harry furrowed his brow, his confusion from her comment distracting him from the desire to scold her for swinging so high on the creaky set. “What are you talking about?” he wondered, letting out a quiet scoff. “I think you’re quite entertaining, actually…” he told her slowly. “You’re the only person I know who made up a dance routine to the theme song from Jurassic Park,” he said endearingly, remembering the young girl in an Indiana Jones hat and tutu performing the choreographed dance, complete with Tyrannosaurus Rex screams. “And you always had very elaborate stories to tell,” he added with a chuckle. “Remember when you told your teacher that your mom hit Tim across the face with a piece of wood, but really he just walked into the fence? And the police had to come to your house? Everyone was very impressed that you caused the cops to show up,” Harry continued, smirking up at Kit.

Kit echoed his snicker but shrugged dismissively. “Yeah, but that’s just kid stuff,” she told him, though surprised he remembered her fondness for creating choreographed dance routines – everyone remembered the cop story. “I’m pretty much a boring old homebody now,” she confessed to him, scowling at the uncool truth. “I don’t do the club scene. I don’t even really own makeup,” she added, as though that was a priority for Harry.

“Well, that settles that, then,” Harry determined teasingly. “No makeup, no Harry,” he told her, reaching up and tapping her boot as she swung past him. “I expect my friends to follow very strict rules, you know,” he continued, wishing Kit would stop trying to talk herself out of spending time with him.

“Mm-hmm,” Kit hummed with a slight roll of her eyes. “Well… I suppose we’ll just have to see who’s right, and who’s wrong,” she said, still not believing their lives would find time for the other.

Exasperated, Harry stood up. “Christ, Kit… just stop… stop swinging,” he told her, reaching out and grabbing one of the rope handles. The swing slowed down, but swayed erratically to the side as he gripped just one half of the swing. He reached across and grabbed the other handle, slowing Kit down as her knees knocked against his stomach.

Her eyes widened as Harry pulled her to a stop, his hands grasping the rope just above her own hands. She’d avoided his kiss once; she didn’t think she could do it again. “What are you doing?” she whispered to him, attempting to choke out a fake laugh but uttering a whimpering groan instead.

“What are you doing?” countered Harry, his voice sounding unnecessarily harsh. He sighed quietly, giving the swing a light shake. “Why do you keep thinking I don’t want to see you… or wouldn’t want to hang out with you?” he asked her, his tone now sounding more disappointed than harsh. “Do you think we’re not friends?”

“I… well, no…” Kit stammered, Harry’s comment surprising her. “Well, I mean, I guess… yeah, I do. But, it’s just… Harry, you’re Tim’s friend. You’ve always been Tim’s friend. Not mine,” she told him, her final sentence coming out so quietly, she didn’t think Harry would have even heard her.

Harry chuckled softly, running his closed fist up and down the rope. “So… I’m not your friend?” he questioned, ducking his head slightly to look into Kit’s eyes. He understood what she meant – he had always been Tim’s friend first – but hearing her say he wasn’t her friend tugged on his heartstrings. “Are we mortal enemies now? Bat-Man and Joker? If that’s the case… I get to be Bat-Man,” he added as Kit glanced up and met his eyes, smiling sheepishly.

“You know what I mean,” Kit told Harry with a sigh, nudging his leg gently with her foot. She looked down at her foot as she bumped against Harry, wanting to tell him that she simply wasn’t good enough to spend time with him, but she knew he would argue with her. It was comforting, in a way, to know exactly how Harry would react.

“I guess I don’t…” countered Harry, giving the swing another light shake. He let his hand drop from the rope, letting his finger graze gently against Kit’s cheek as though he was programmed to do so and had no control over his actions. Her eyes were round as saucers again as Harry’s caressed her cold cheek, his finger trailing up to her hairline as he tucked a flyaway behind her ear.

“We’re friends… right?” Harry asked, knowing he wouldn’t ever be satisfied with simply being Kit’s friend, but after reconnecting with her after years gone by, he wasn’t going to lose touch with her again. If friends were all she could be, friends is what he would be.

“Yeah… we are,” Kit determined after a moment, her voice a whisper as Harry’s touch radiated through to her core. She pushed backwards on the swing, locking her knees and keeping her feet planted against the dirt. In this position, she could see straight into Harry’s eyes. She swallowed hard, remembering their moment on the tree stump and wondering if she could be simply friends with this boy. She knew she had no choice, but she found herself curious as to what would happen if she didn’t have a boyfriend.

Notes