Danger
Chapter Ten
Georgia sat in her seat, staring out of the window, as Harry drove. She had no idea where they were going, where he was taking her. She refrained from asking, however, choosing to simply stare out of the window, watching as the trees and houses passed them by. Harry’s car was warm, and smelled a lot like him, which was only obvious.
Eventually, Harry did stop the car, and when Georgia looked around to see where they were, and didn’t recognize the area at all. She sat up straighter, and then looked at Harry, her eyes a little wide. Harry looked at her and smirked, unbuckling his seat belt. She, however, remained unmoving.
“Where are we?” she asked him.
Harry shrugged. “Don’t know,” he mumbled.
“What?” she asked loudly. “What do you mean—?”
“I mean,” he said, cutting across her. “I don’t know. Now, are you gonna sit in here?”
“Harry—”
“Don’t worry,” he said with an overly dramatic sigh, grinning slightly. “I haven’t gotten you here to
have my way with you. Unless, of course—”
“No, that’s not what I want,” Georgia snapped at him. “Jesus, are you always this annoying?”
“Are you always this rude?” he teased back. “I haven’t forgotten your insults, by the way. I took that personally.”
“You mean about your shoes?” she asked, unbuckling her seat belt. “Yeah, you desperately need new ones.”
“Shut up,” he advised, and the two of them got out of the car.
Georgia had no idea why Harry had decided to stop here, out of all other places. They were surrounded by trees, and darkness, the silence of the night weighing down on them like a physical weight. The air was cold each breeze hitting Georgia like a wave and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Both she and Harry had left their jackets inside the car.
When she looked over at him, he wasn’t shivering, simply staring into the distance, as if deep in thought. He reached, almost absentmindedly, for the back pocket of his pants, and fishing out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.
Georgia grimaced. “Did you just bring me here so you can smoke while I sit here bored?”
Harry chuckled and looked at her. “You’re snappy,” he observed.
Georgia huffed and rolled her eyes, sliding up to sit on the hood of his car. She shivered, and Harry looked over at her. “You can fetch your coat from inside the car, if you want.”
“I’m fine,” she shook her head.
Harry eyed her, as she sat perched on the hood, fiddling with the hem of her red dress. Her hair was tied, worn in some intricate braid, resting on one shoulder, her feet dangling, far above the dusty ground. She was chewing her pink lip, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, her gaze downwards, lashes almost brushing her cheeks. Her dress had ridden up to her mid thigh, her long, smooth legs visible, and one folder over the other. She placed her hands behind her and leaned back, her back arching ever so slightly. She looked at him then, and caught him looking at her. He didn’t care, wasn’t fazed. A thought struck him, a conversation he’d had with Melissa a while back, something that he’d told her.
“What?” Georgia asked him, her voice shy as he continued staring at her intently.
“Come here,” he said, his voice holding a certain undertone that made it seem like a command.
“Wh…?”
“Come here,” he repeated, stuffing his lighter and cigs back in his pocket.
Georgia hesitated, before shyly making her way over to Harry. He met her halfway, coming close to her. He reached down for her hands, taking them in his, his large hands covering her tiny ones completely. Georgia’s breathing quickened slightly, as Harry got close to her, impossibly so.
“So, Melissa told me you had a boyfriend?” he asked, his voice low, gaze fixed on her hands, though the gesture wasn’t hesitant or nervous. She knew he was far from that.
“I…yeah, I did,” she said, and cursed herself when she heard the slight tremble of her voice.
“Mm, Larry, was he?” he asked, his thumb drawing slow circles on the back of her hand.
“Lucas,” she corrected him. When she chanced a glance at him, she found him staring at her, his gaze unreadable. Her heart stuttered inside her chest, her muscles slowly seemed to be turning to jelly.
He hummed in response, leaning in, skimming his nose against her cheek. Georgia tensed under him.
“H-Harry, what are you…?”
“Are you guys still together?” he asked her, tilting his face slightly, nuzzling his cheek to hers.
“I—Harry—” Georgia squeaked, attempting to raise her hands to push him away, but finding them trapped in his hold, tightly so. “What are you—”
“Well?” he pressed. “Are you?”
“Harry, stop it,” Georgia mumbled, as Harry’s face slowly slipped down, so he was nuzzling his neck. “I don’t—”
“You aren’t answering my question.” He pointed out against her skin, his hand left hers to cup her jaw, tracing his thumb over her flesh. Slowly, he let his lips brush across her skin and for a second, a tiny one that somehow seemed to last almost a minute, Georgia let him. They were soft, and gentle somehow, but the contact was enough to snap Georgia out of her momentary daze.
“Stop it,” she said, and to her satisfaction, her voice sounded firm enough.
Harry pulled away, frowning in annoyance. “What?”
“What do you mean what?” Georgia snarled. “You just got out a relationship. With my sister!”
Harry narrowed his eyes at her and huffed. “Do you always over analyze everything?” he asked her. “Mel doesn’t have to know. And I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“You were doing just that!” she snapped at him. “And what do you mean she doesn’t have to know? Do you have no conscience?”
“You are so fucking annoying,” Harry glowered at her, backing away several steps. There was no hint of the humorous and warm Harry she’d encountered before they’d come here. He looked closed off, and angry. Briefly, Georgia wondered if Harry would grab her and kiss her anyway, the way he had at that party. A large part of her doubted he’d do that, but then again, Harry was drunk this time too, and the way he was glaring at her, so angry as if he’d just drive off into the night with her stranded here, she speculated the chances of him forcing himself on her.
“I want to go home,” she told him, looking down because his gaze was too intense for her.
“Already?” he asked, his tone unreadable.
“I don’t want to stay here if you’re going to try to…grope me,” she mumbled, still staring at the floor.
To her surprise, Harry laughed. She looked up finally, to see that he was smirking at her, shaking his head at her stupid words. “I won’t ‘grope’ you,” he said, and when Georgia’s eyes narrowed at him and she eyed him suspiciously, he raised his eyebrows. “I promise, I won’t. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I won’t touch you again.”
Georgia continued to stare at him for a long time, her mind whirling. “Why are you apologizing?”
Harry’s amused expression morphed into one of confusion. “What?”
“Stop being…nice,” she mumbled childishly, crossing her arms and continuing to eye him curiously.
Harry’s lips twitched. “So you want me to be inappropriate and…grope you?” he asked her.
“No,” she said.
Harry shook his head. “You’re really weird, you know that, right?” he asked her.
It seemed that his anger at her rejection had vanished as quickly as it had come. His mood swings were a whiplash to her, and also incredibly hard to keep up with. She almost liked Harry when he was this way, smiling and joking (as long as he was appropriate, which wasn’t very often), but she was not ready to give into him and let him take advantage of her just because she wanted to be his friend. And then she realized that, yes, she did want to be his friend. Or at least, she didn’t want to be a girl on the possibly long list of girls he’d spend his nights with. When had that happened?
“It’s a bit cold outside, isn’t it?” she chose to ignore his statement and change the topic.
“Thought you were fine,” he said.
“I am,” she snapped at him.
Harry raised his eyebrows at her, and gave her a look before moving to the car door to open it.
“Let’s just sit inside,” he advised. “You’re going to freeze and die.”
Georgia huffed, but got inside the car. The doors shut and then it was just the two of them inside the car, encased in its warmth. Georgia let out a sigh of relief and her tense demeanor loosened slightly, her shivers reducing.
“You’re so stubborn,” Harry observed.
Georgia glared at him. “Why don’t you make a list?” She snapped at him. “I’m snappy, and annoying and uptight and stubborn—”
“And rude,” Harry said, but he was smirking.
“I’m only rude because you’re so—so—”
Harry laughed as she stuttered, struggling to form words to express her anger towards the curly haired boy. Georgia turned away from him and stared outside into the darkness, grumbling to herself. Slowly, Harry’s laughter died, a few chuckles piercing the air every now and then. She didn’t know what was so amusing. She was, probably. Harry was always laughing at her, wasn’t he?
“So,” Harry said after a good while. When Georgia continued to gaze out of the window, refusing to look at him, he let out another chuckle. He reached over and tapped her knee with one finger, and when Georgia turned further away from him, he smirked and rolled his eyes. “You’re such a child.”
She remained silent.
“Maybe we can add that to the list, hmm?”
Still quiet.
Harry sighed and raised his hand to wrap a few strands of hair around his finger and tugged childishly, his gaze on her, attempting to attract her attention. When she still didn’t respond, he sighed again. “Alright, I won’t tease you.” He promised, though they both knew he wouldn’t be held to that for too long. “I won’t laugh at you.”
“Fuck off,” she mumbled silently.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear,” Harry observed, but Georgia continued to pretend she hadn’t heard him. “Okay, how about we make a new list for you? Hmm, we’ll add pretty to that. And…uh, nice. You’re quite nice, aren’t you? And you’re…uh…”
“Seriously?” Georgia turned on him with a wild gasp. “You’re so quick to insult me, but the nicest thing you can come up for me is…nice?”
Harry backed away a little and raised his hands, as if in surrender. “I said pretty. I think you’re quite pretty!”
“You’re so infuriating!” she screeched. “I hate you, you know that?”
“At least you’re talking to me,” he pointed out, smiling slightly. Georgia stared back at him with her jaw set hard, eyes cold, and if looks could kill, Harry would have died about five minutes ago. “Okay, I promise I’ll be nice.” He told her. “Uh…pinky?”
Childishly, he held up his little finger, and Georgia, even through her anger, observed how big it was compared to her own—long and thin. She stared at him. “I am not a five year old.” She growled.
“You certainly act like one,” he mumbled without thinking, and then quickly backtracked. “I mean—no, I’m sorry! You’re right, you’re not five. Okay, I’m so stupid.” He put his finger down, and it was written all over his face, just how much fun he was having. Jerk. “Okay, we’ll just talk, yeah? Tell me about Lucas. What was he like?”
“Why do you want to know about Lucas?”
“Well, if you’re rejected me for another boy,” Harry said, “I’d certainly like to know what he has that I don’t.”
“Well for one, he was nice to me,” Georgia said quickly. “And he didn’t insult me and call me uptight and annoying all the time.”
“Hmm, should I take notes?” Harry teased, and Georgia reached and thwacked his arm in frustration. Obviously, Harry wasn’t hurt—he only laughed. “Go on.”
Georgia sighed and sat back against the seat. “I don’t know…what do you want to know?”
“Was he your first boyfriend?” he asked her.
“First and only,” Georgia mumbled.
“Tell me your best memory with him,” he said.
Georgia eyed him with narrowed eyes. “What?”
“You heard,” Harry said. He reached for his pockets and fished out a cigarette and lighter once again. Rolling the window down, he lit the cigarette. He looked at Georgia, raising his eyebrows and urging her to go on, but she was watching him. Georgia didn’t understand why she was always so captivated when she watched Harry smoke. It was creepy, but she couldn’t stop herself. His slender fingers somehow made the simple act of lighting a cigarette attractive, and she wasn’t sure how that was possible. She watched him as he brought the now lit stick to his pink lips, and she knew it was stupid, staring at him while he smoked, but she couldn’t look away. Harry looked at her and then smirked. A dense cloud of smoke escaped past his lips and Harry visibly relaxed, settling further back against the seat. “I like how you’re always staring at me.”
Georgia blushed and looked away from him, and out of the window. She felt his fingers drum on her thigh impatiently, demanding the answer he hadn’t gotten yet. She looked at him, and he was staring at her with a slight frown, yet another cloud of smoke leaving his lips. “Are you going to answer me?”
“I don’t remember,” Georgia sighed.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Think hard.” He insisted.
So that’s what she did, thinking hard of a memory with Lucas that had stuck with her, something she’d recall from time to time and be happy to think about. “I think,” she said finally, when something did strike her, “it was my eighteenth birthday.”
“The night you lost your virginity, then?” Harry smirked.
“You’re so inappropriate,” Georgia grumbled. “No, it wasn’t. It was just…I spent the whole day around people I loved, and people who loved me.”
“But that wasn’t exclusively a good memory with Lucas,” he pointed out.
Georgia shook her head, and when she spoke, she chose to look out of the window. “That night Lucas came to my room. He snuck up, actually, after my parents had gone to bed,” she reminisced with a smile. “It was the first and only time he’d done something like that. I remember, I was so scared that my parents would walk in and I’d be grounded for about three lifetimes.” She chuckled. “We spent the entire night talking and laughing, and that was the first time he told me he loved me. That was one the greatest night I’ve ever spent with him.”
She didn’t look at him immediately after she was done, and Harry waited for her to do so. He’d watched her as she spoke intently, not taking his eyes off her even though she wasn’t looking at him. He tried to recall a time when he and Melissa had sat down and shared something like this—he couldn’t. And that was because they’d never shared moments like this. And that in itself was quite odd.
“It’s your turn,” she said, and then finally looked at him, eyes dry but expression unreadable. It was one of those rare times when Harry was genuinely curious to find what the other person was thinking or feeling.
“What?” he asked.
“Your favourite memory,” she said, “with Melissa.”
“I don’t have one,” he said simply, taking a drag from the cig.
“That’s not possible,” Georgia asserted. “You have to have something.”
Harry simply shrugged, not bothering with an answer. She figured there was no point in pressing for an answer; she didn’t think she was going to get one. It was quiet inside the car for a while, the two of them immersed in their own thoughts. Speaking of Lucas had brought back the much unwanted nostalgic feeling, leaving Georgia feeling slightly sick. She chanced a glance at Harry, who was finishing off the lit cigarette, staring ahead, as if deep in thought. She wondered what he was thinking about—the boy who constantly asked her questions about her life but never answered those about his own.
“You hungry?” he asked finally, breaking the strangely comfortable silence that had settled over them.
“Now that you mention it,” she said, as her stomach rumbled the moment the words left his mouth, “I sort of am.”
“Let’s drive to McDonald’s, yeah?” he suggested, tossing the butt out of the car.
“I don’t know, it’s a bit late…”
“No, you should eat,” Harry insisted. “Besides, I’m fucking famished, and I don’t want to wait to eat.” He grinned at her, and she chuckled.
“Alright,” she said. “But you’re driving me straight home after that.”
“Is it past your bedtime?” Harry snorted.
“I thought you were going to be nice to me,” Georgia sighed as Harry rolled the windows up and then started the car.
“This is as nice as I get,” he let her know with a smirk. “Get used to it.”
And then they were off.
Eventually, Harry did stop the car, and when Georgia looked around to see where they were, and didn’t recognize the area at all. She sat up straighter, and then looked at Harry, her eyes a little wide. Harry looked at her and smirked, unbuckling his seat belt. She, however, remained unmoving.
“Where are we?” she asked him.
Harry shrugged. “Don’t know,” he mumbled.
“What?” she asked loudly. “What do you mean—?”
“I mean,” he said, cutting across her. “I don’t know. Now, are you gonna sit in here?”
“Harry—”
“Don’t worry,” he said with an overly dramatic sigh, grinning slightly. “I haven’t gotten you here to
have my way with you. Unless, of course—”
“No, that’s not what I want,” Georgia snapped at him. “Jesus, are you always this annoying?”
“Are you always this rude?” he teased back. “I haven’t forgotten your insults, by the way. I took that personally.”
“You mean about your shoes?” she asked, unbuckling her seat belt. “Yeah, you desperately need new ones.”
“Shut up,” he advised, and the two of them got out of the car.
Georgia had no idea why Harry had decided to stop here, out of all other places. They were surrounded by trees, and darkness, the silence of the night weighing down on them like a physical weight. The air was cold each breeze hitting Georgia like a wave and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Both she and Harry had left their jackets inside the car.
When she looked over at him, he wasn’t shivering, simply staring into the distance, as if deep in thought. He reached, almost absentmindedly, for the back pocket of his pants, and fishing out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.
Georgia grimaced. “Did you just bring me here so you can smoke while I sit here bored?”
Harry chuckled and looked at her. “You’re snappy,” he observed.
Georgia huffed and rolled her eyes, sliding up to sit on the hood of his car. She shivered, and Harry looked over at her. “You can fetch your coat from inside the car, if you want.”
“I’m fine,” she shook her head.
Harry eyed her, as she sat perched on the hood, fiddling with the hem of her red dress. Her hair was tied, worn in some intricate braid, resting on one shoulder, her feet dangling, far above the dusty ground. She was chewing her pink lip, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, her gaze downwards, lashes almost brushing her cheeks. Her dress had ridden up to her mid thigh, her long, smooth legs visible, and one folder over the other. She placed her hands behind her and leaned back, her back arching ever so slightly. She looked at him then, and caught him looking at her. He didn’t care, wasn’t fazed. A thought struck him, a conversation he’d had with Melissa a while back, something that he’d told her.
“What?” Georgia asked him, her voice shy as he continued staring at her intently.
“Come here,” he said, his voice holding a certain undertone that made it seem like a command.
“Wh…?”
“Come here,” he repeated, stuffing his lighter and cigs back in his pocket.
Georgia hesitated, before shyly making her way over to Harry. He met her halfway, coming close to her. He reached down for her hands, taking them in his, his large hands covering her tiny ones completely. Georgia’s breathing quickened slightly, as Harry got close to her, impossibly so.
“So, Melissa told me you had a boyfriend?” he asked, his voice low, gaze fixed on her hands, though the gesture wasn’t hesitant or nervous. She knew he was far from that.
“I…yeah, I did,” she said, and cursed herself when she heard the slight tremble of her voice.
“Mm, Larry, was he?” he asked, his thumb drawing slow circles on the back of her hand.
“Lucas,” she corrected him. When she chanced a glance at him, she found him staring at her, his gaze unreadable. Her heart stuttered inside her chest, her muscles slowly seemed to be turning to jelly.
He hummed in response, leaning in, skimming his nose against her cheek. Georgia tensed under him.
“H-Harry, what are you…?”
“Are you guys still together?” he asked her, tilting his face slightly, nuzzling his cheek to hers.
“I—Harry—” Georgia squeaked, attempting to raise her hands to push him away, but finding them trapped in his hold, tightly so. “What are you—”
“Well?” he pressed. “Are you?”
“Harry, stop it,” Georgia mumbled, as Harry’s face slowly slipped down, so he was nuzzling his neck. “I don’t—”
“You aren’t answering my question.” He pointed out against her skin, his hand left hers to cup her jaw, tracing his thumb over her flesh. Slowly, he let his lips brush across her skin and for a second, a tiny one that somehow seemed to last almost a minute, Georgia let him. They were soft, and gentle somehow, but the contact was enough to snap Georgia out of her momentary daze.
“Stop it,” she said, and to her satisfaction, her voice sounded firm enough.
Harry pulled away, frowning in annoyance. “What?”
“What do you mean what?” Georgia snarled. “You just got out a relationship. With my sister!”
Harry narrowed his eyes at her and huffed. “Do you always over analyze everything?” he asked her. “Mel doesn’t have to know. And I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“You were doing just that!” she snapped at him. “And what do you mean she doesn’t have to know? Do you have no conscience?”
“You are so fucking annoying,” Harry glowered at her, backing away several steps. There was no hint of the humorous and warm Harry she’d encountered before they’d come here. He looked closed off, and angry. Briefly, Georgia wondered if Harry would grab her and kiss her anyway, the way he had at that party. A large part of her doubted he’d do that, but then again, Harry was drunk this time too, and the way he was glaring at her, so angry as if he’d just drive off into the night with her stranded here, she speculated the chances of him forcing himself on her.
“I want to go home,” she told him, looking down because his gaze was too intense for her.
“Already?” he asked, his tone unreadable.
“I don’t want to stay here if you’re going to try to…grope me,” she mumbled, still staring at the floor.
To her surprise, Harry laughed. She looked up finally, to see that he was smirking at her, shaking his head at her stupid words. “I won’t ‘grope’ you,” he said, and when Georgia’s eyes narrowed at him and she eyed him suspiciously, he raised his eyebrows. “I promise, I won’t. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I won’t touch you again.”
Georgia continued to stare at him for a long time, her mind whirling. “Why are you apologizing?”
Harry’s amused expression morphed into one of confusion. “What?”
“Stop being…nice,” she mumbled childishly, crossing her arms and continuing to eye him curiously.
Harry’s lips twitched. “So you want me to be inappropriate and…grope you?” he asked her.
“No,” she said.
Harry shook his head. “You’re really weird, you know that, right?” he asked her.
It seemed that his anger at her rejection had vanished as quickly as it had come. His mood swings were a whiplash to her, and also incredibly hard to keep up with. She almost liked Harry when he was this way, smiling and joking (as long as he was appropriate, which wasn’t very often), but she was not ready to give into him and let him take advantage of her just because she wanted to be his friend. And then she realized that, yes, she did want to be his friend. Or at least, she didn’t want to be a girl on the possibly long list of girls he’d spend his nights with. When had that happened?
“It’s a bit cold outside, isn’t it?” she chose to ignore his statement and change the topic.
“Thought you were fine,” he said.
“I am,” she snapped at him.
Harry raised his eyebrows at her, and gave her a look before moving to the car door to open it.
“Let’s just sit inside,” he advised. “You’re going to freeze and die.”
Georgia huffed, but got inside the car. The doors shut and then it was just the two of them inside the car, encased in its warmth. Georgia let out a sigh of relief and her tense demeanor loosened slightly, her shivers reducing.
“You’re so stubborn,” Harry observed.
Georgia glared at him. “Why don’t you make a list?” She snapped at him. “I’m snappy, and annoying and uptight and stubborn—”
“And rude,” Harry said, but he was smirking.
“I’m only rude because you’re so—so—”
Harry laughed as she stuttered, struggling to form words to express her anger towards the curly haired boy. Georgia turned away from him and stared outside into the darkness, grumbling to herself. Slowly, Harry’s laughter died, a few chuckles piercing the air every now and then. She didn’t know what was so amusing. She was, probably. Harry was always laughing at her, wasn’t he?
“So,” Harry said after a good while. When Georgia continued to gaze out of the window, refusing to look at him, he let out another chuckle. He reached over and tapped her knee with one finger, and when Georgia turned further away from him, he smirked and rolled his eyes. “You’re such a child.”
She remained silent.
“Maybe we can add that to the list, hmm?”
Still quiet.
Harry sighed and raised his hand to wrap a few strands of hair around his finger and tugged childishly, his gaze on her, attempting to attract her attention. When she still didn’t respond, he sighed again. “Alright, I won’t tease you.” He promised, though they both knew he wouldn’t be held to that for too long. “I won’t laugh at you.”
“Fuck off,” she mumbled silently.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear,” Harry observed, but Georgia continued to pretend she hadn’t heard him. “Okay, how about we make a new list for you? Hmm, we’ll add pretty to that. And…uh, nice. You’re quite nice, aren’t you? And you’re…uh…”
“Seriously?” Georgia turned on him with a wild gasp. “You’re so quick to insult me, but the nicest thing you can come up for me is…nice?”
Harry backed away a little and raised his hands, as if in surrender. “I said pretty. I think you’re quite pretty!”
“You’re so infuriating!” she screeched. “I hate you, you know that?”
“At least you’re talking to me,” he pointed out, smiling slightly. Georgia stared back at him with her jaw set hard, eyes cold, and if looks could kill, Harry would have died about five minutes ago. “Okay, I promise I’ll be nice.” He told her. “Uh…pinky?”
Childishly, he held up his little finger, and Georgia, even through her anger, observed how big it was compared to her own—long and thin. She stared at him. “I am not a five year old.” She growled.
“You certainly act like one,” he mumbled without thinking, and then quickly backtracked. “I mean—no, I’m sorry! You’re right, you’re not five. Okay, I’m so stupid.” He put his finger down, and it was written all over his face, just how much fun he was having. Jerk. “Okay, we’ll just talk, yeah? Tell me about Lucas. What was he like?”
“Why do you want to know about Lucas?”
“Well, if you’re rejected me for another boy,” Harry said, “I’d certainly like to know what he has that I don’t.”
“Well for one, he was nice to me,” Georgia said quickly. “And he didn’t insult me and call me uptight and annoying all the time.”
“Hmm, should I take notes?” Harry teased, and Georgia reached and thwacked his arm in frustration. Obviously, Harry wasn’t hurt—he only laughed. “Go on.”
Georgia sighed and sat back against the seat. “I don’t know…what do you want to know?”
“Was he your first boyfriend?” he asked her.
“First and only,” Georgia mumbled.
“Tell me your best memory with him,” he said.
Georgia eyed him with narrowed eyes. “What?”
“You heard,” Harry said. He reached for his pockets and fished out a cigarette and lighter once again. Rolling the window down, he lit the cigarette. He looked at Georgia, raising his eyebrows and urging her to go on, but she was watching him. Georgia didn’t understand why she was always so captivated when she watched Harry smoke. It was creepy, but she couldn’t stop herself. His slender fingers somehow made the simple act of lighting a cigarette attractive, and she wasn’t sure how that was possible. She watched him as he brought the now lit stick to his pink lips, and she knew it was stupid, staring at him while he smoked, but she couldn’t look away. Harry looked at her and then smirked. A dense cloud of smoke escaped past his lips and Harry visibly relaxed, settling further back against the seat. “I like how you’re always staring at me.”
Georgia blushed and looked away from him, and out of the window. She felt his fingers drum on her thigh impatiently, demanding the answer he hadn’t gotten yet. She looked at him, and he was staring at her with a slight frown, yet another cloud of smoke leaving his lips. “Are you going to answer me?”
“I don’t remember,” Georgia sighed.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Think hard.” He insisted.
So that’s what she did, thinking hard of a memory with Lucas that had stuck with her, something she’d recall from time to time and be happy to think about. “I think,” she said finally, when something did strike her, “it was my eighteenth birthday.”
“The night you lost your virginity, then?” Harry smirked.
“You’re so inappropriate,” Georgia grumbled. “No, it wasn’t. It was just…I spent the whole day around people I loved, and people who loved me.”
“But that wasn’t exclusively a good memory with Lucas,” he pointed out.
Georgia shook her head, and when she spoke, she chose to look out of the window. “That night Lucas came to my room. He snuck up, actually, after my parents had gone to bed,” she reminisced with a smile. “It was the first and only time he’d done something like that. I remember, I was so scared that my parents would walk in and I’d be grounded for about three lifetimes.” She chuckled. “We spent the entire night talking and laughing, and that was the first time he told me he loved me. That was one the greatest night I’ve ever spent with him.”
She didn’t look at him immediately after she was done, and Harry waited for her to do so. He’d watched her as she spoke intently, not taking his eyes off her even though she wasn’t looking at him. He tried to recall a time when he and Melissa had sat down and shared something like this—he couldn’t. And that was because they’d never shared moments like this. And that in itself was quite odd.
“It’s your turn,” she said, and then finally looked at him, eyes dry but expression unreadable. It was one of those rare times when Harry was genuinely curious to find what the other person was thinking or feeling.
“What?” he asked.
“Your favourite memory,” she said, “with Melissa.”
“I don’t have one,” he said simply, taking a drag from the cig.
“That’s not possible,” Georgia asserted. “You have to have something.”
Harry simply shrugged, not bothering with an answer. She figured there was no point in pressing for an answer; she didn’t think she was going to get one. It was quiet inside the car for a while, the two of them immersed in their own thoughts. Speaking of Lucas had brought back the much unwanted nostalgic feeling, leaving Georgia feeling slightly sick. She chanced a glance at Harry, who was finishing off the lit cigarette, staring ahead, as if deep in thought. She wondered what he was thinking about—the boy who constantly asked her questions about her life but never answered those about his own.
“You hungry?” he asked finally, breaking the strangely comfortable silence that had settled over them.
“Now that you mention it,” she said, as her stomach rumbled the moment the words left his mouth, “I sort of am.”
“Let’s drive to McDonald’s, yeah?” he suggested, tossing the butt out of the car.
“I don’t know, it’s a bit late…”
“No, you should eat,” Harry insisted. “Besides, I’m fucking famished, and I don’t want to wait to eat.” He grinned at her, and she chuckled.
“Alright,” she said. “But you’re driving me straight home after that.”
“Is it past your bedtime?” Harry snorted.
“I thought you were going to be nice to me,” Georgia sighed as Harry rolled the windows up and then started the car.
“This is as nice as I get,” he let her know with a smirk. “Get used to it.”
And then they were off.
a year
2/8/15