a/n: lol anyways
* * *
I slip the hoodie I wore today up and over my head, taking it off before staring into the bathroom mirror that was hung above the sink. I honestly ate so much that my stomach was bulging out, insanely bloated. I hated to look at myself after I ate a lot, simply because I looked 6 months pregnant after doing so. But I guess it's normal, right?
I let out a sigh, picking up my folded t-shirt that I set on the bathroom counter when I came in here. I put it on, the fabric hugging my waist extremely loosely. I put my pajama shorts on, the length of the shirt being longer than the shorts themselves, making it look like I wasn't wearing pants. I didn't mind though, this was comfortable to me.
I brought my entire toiletry bag in here with me along with my pajamas, so I now turn to that to continue my night routine. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on a little bit of moisturizer and chapstick before exiting the bathroom, making sure to take everything out with me.
I walked to the room Harry and I were staying in to see him already laying under the covers, his shirt off. The comforter laid up to his mid-chest, covering the majority of the butterfly on his stomach. The lights were all off, except the lamps on the bedside tables, creating a dim light. Harry was on his phone, the screen lighting up his face in the dark-ish room.
He looks over at me as I approach the bed, looking me up and down. I felt self conscious, since I felt like he was staring at my stomach.
"I know." I sigh as I crawl into bed next to him. "I'm bloated."
Harry furrows his eyebrows, turning off his phone. He turns so he's laying on his side, facing me, showing me I had his full, undivided attention. "Babe, I didn't even notice."
"Really?" I really shouldn't have been shocked. Harry would never point something out like that, but I guess I just wanted to say something about it before he did.
"Yeah," he says, his voice low and tired. "I was honestly just wondering if you were wearing pants under your shirt." He laughs.
I pull the blanket down to uncover my hips, lifting my shirt up to my stomach to show my shorts. Harry nods and I put my shirt back down. "Did that answer your question?"
"Yes, thank you," he says with a smile. He shuffles closer to me, reaching down to gently lift my leg on top of his. His hand then rests on the back of my thigh. "So what do you think?"
"Of?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows. His face was only inches away from mine and it took everything I had to not kiss him.
"My mum," he clarifies. "Do you like her?"
"Oh." I raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, of course! She's a sweetheart."
"You know, I think she really likes you," he says, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
"You do?" I ask and he nods. "And why's that?"
"I don't know." He shrugs, still smirking. "I'm just getting the vibe. Also, while you were in the bathroom she came in here to ask you if you wanted to bake cookies with her tomorrow."
"Did you tell her yes?!" I ask, excitement filling me up at the thought of baking cookies. I love cookies...and I love baking. It's a win-win situation.
"I thought about it." He sighs. "But I didn't wanna make that decision for you. It's up to you."
"Well I think you should know me well enough by now to know that there's no way in hell I would ever turn down an offer like that." I shake my head jokingly. Harry laughs and I sigh.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." I shake my head. "It's just so...nice to be here," I admit to Harry, smiling as I look down. "It feels so normal. It's comforting."
"Normal?" He asks, confusion written over his face.
"You have such a close relationship with your mom. It's so healthy. That should be normal," I explain, feeling my eyes burn with tears. "I mean," I let out a soft chuckle, just to seem like I wasn't as upset about the topic at hand, "my mom doesn't even wish me a happy birthday anymore."
Harry's facial expression dropped into a look of disbelief. He swallows harshly. "She doesn't? Not even this year?"
"She never does." I shake my head and shrug. "I never expect it anymore. It's just kind of a normal thing for me now."
"That's bullshit," Harry says, pulling me closer to him, if it was even possible.
"Maybe she just forgets," I defend her, though Harry and I both didn't believe that. Or maybe she saw just it as Mikey's death date.
"But that's so unfair to you," he argues. "The very least she could do is send you a text wishing you a happy birthday."
"Yeah, but I wouldn't ever want to remind her, you know?" I say, feeling my body go limp in Harry's arms as I felt so comfortable. "I would want it to be sincere. I wouldn't want her to feel forced to say it, because then it loses its meaning entirely."
"I'm so sorry, Lili," he says. I knew his apology was genuine, but it still didn't make me feel better.
I didn't want to talk about the subject anymore, because all it was going to do was bring me down. "What kind of cookies did your mom want to make tomorrow?"
"Chocolate chip," he states plainly, thankfully catching on.
"Can't wait." I say, snuggling into his chest, letting my eyes flutter shut. Suddenly, he gasps and I quickly lift my head up, thinking I hurt him or something. "What?"
His face lights up as he looks at me. "I wanna show you what I found."
He hops out of bed and I rest my head on my hand, my elbow propping me up. He walks over and opens up the cabinet door on the other side of the room, pulling a white tote canvas bag out of the nearly empty space.
"I found these while you were changing," Harry explains, returning to bed. He crawls back in, setting the bag in his lap. I sit up, sitting with my legs crossed. He reaches into the bag, and pulls out something green and black. "They're my old film cameras I brought on tour," he explains with an evocative smile. "I guess I left them here somehow."
"Did you use them?" I ask, resting my head against his shoulder. He dumps the bag out on the bed, revealing 5 more cameras in addition to the one he was holding, some green, some gray and some yellow.
"Some of them." He nods. "But I couldn't have taken more than 10 pictures on them." He looks down at them, his eyes moving and he thinks. Then, he picks one up and sets it in my lap. "Here."
"Here what?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows together.
"I want you to have it," he says. "Just as long as you give it back once it runs out of space."
"But why?" I take it into my hands.
"Why not?"
***
"Mum, I spoiled the surprise," Harry announces as we both walk through the living and dining rooms, nearing the kitchen. The house smelled amazing still, and it seemed like Anne was always cooking something. And this morning, the scent was oddly familiar.
"Harry, you're the worst," Anne says back, and as we turn the corner to enter the kitchen, I see her shaking her head, smiling.
Harry and I stand and the end of the kitchen, me holding onto his arm like a scared child. I wasn't scared, nor a child, it was just comfortable to stand like this, close to Harry.
"But," Anne says, turning around to walk to the opposite end of the kitchen, talking to us over her shoulder, "I do happen to have one more surprise. For the both of you, actually." And then she finally turns back around, holding a plate with a stack of steaming, golden-brown waffles on top. "I figured it would be a nice thing to wake up to."
She walks around us to the dining room as Harry says, "No way!"
"Yes way," she retaliates, setting the plate down on the large dining room table. "I wanted to make you guys a somewhat special breakfast." She turns around to flash Harry and I a smile. "I figured waffles were the way to go."
"Thank you mum," Harry says, moving away from me so he could walk toward her with open arms before hugging her. He plants a quick kiss to her forehead before turning to me. "You know, Lili actually loves your waffle recipe."
Anne looks taken aback, giving Harry a shocked look, which made my stomach tighten. I remember him saying something about that recipe being a family secret. A pit of guilt now settles is my stomach.
"You made some for her?" Anne asks him, the corner of her mouth quirking up into a smile before quickly straightening back out. Her brief smile made my stomach loosen a bit, but I still felt slightly nervous for the conversation to continue.
"On her birthday." Harry nods, smiling softly.
Anne turns to me, her mouth hanging open a little. "And you liked them?" she asks hopefully.
"They were amazing," I compliment. "Probably some of, if not the best waffles I've ever had."
"Really?" She asks with a smile, and I nod in response. "Well then what are you waiting for? Take a seat!" She hurries over before grabbing my arm and ushering me back to the dining room. She pulls a chair out for me, and I take a seat, thanking her.
"Honey, could you grab some plates and utensils?" Anne asks, directing her question toward Harry. She sits on the end chair next to me, and I could feel her excitement radiating off her body as the smile remained on her face.
Harry soon returns to the dining room after clacking around in the kitchen for a moment. He places two of the plates in his hand in front of Anne and I, and sets the other on the chair opposite of mine. He distributes the forks and butter knives as well. He jumps slightly before quickly rushing back to the kitchen.
I hear cupboards open and close as Anne and I turn to each other to exchange confused looks. A few moments pass before Harry comes back holding a glass pourer with a brown liquid inside. He holds it up, declaring, "Syrup!"
Anne chuckles, reaching over to grab the plate with the stacked waffles. Just as I expected her to serve herself, she holds the plate out to me. "They're really all the same, but pick whichever one you'd like."
It took everything I had in me to not look surprised by this gesture and instead just pick up my fork and take the first waffle off the top. She then slides the plate gently across the table to Harry so he could dish himself one. After Harry has taken his pick, which was just the top one, Anne finally serves herself the penultimate waffle.
So selfless, I think to myself. I'm aware it was proper etiquette to serve yourself last, but not many people even have good manners anymore, everyone's so selfish. She seems like such a classy lady, from what I've seen. She was probably the best mother to Harry growing up.
Harry pours the syrup on his waffle, then passes it to Anne, who then passes it to me after she's used it. We all begin to dive into our breakfast, when Anne suddenly stands up mumbling a quiet "oh".
"I totally spaced drinks," she says staring at Harry and I with wide eyes. "Would you guys like a cuppa?"
A cup of what? I wonder to myself, looking up at Harry to see how he would respond.
"I'd love one." He nods vigorously.
"Lili?" I look up at Anne, trying to read her face to see if I could somehow figure out what it was that she was asking me if I wanted.
"Umm...sure?" I answered, but it came out sounding far more unsure than I meant it to.
"Okay." She smiles, seemingly pleased with my response. "How do you like it?"
I look over at Harry, shooting him a panicked look. I didn't know if Anne was asking me if I wanted coffee or tea or even alcohol for that matter. I stared at him intently, hoping he would pick up what I was putting down.
"How do you take your tea?" He finally dumbs it down for me.
Lili, you're a dumbass.
I turn to Anne with an awkward smile. "Milk with a dash of honey, please."
She nods and steps away, making her way back into the kitchen. As soon as she's out view, I facepalm, feeling ridiculously stupid.
Harry laughs at my embarrassment, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're so American."
"Really?" I ask sarcastically with a roll of my eyes.
"You're gonna have to work on your British slang knowledge," Harry remarks, shaking his head.
"I know." I finally remove my hand from my face, deciding it'd be best to pretend that never happened.
Cuppa means cup of tea, I note mentally.
After a moment, Anne returns to the table holding two mugs - one in each of her hands.
"There we are," she says, placing one mug in front of Harry then one in front of me. Harry mutters a quiet 'thank you', and I furrow my eyebrows.
"Thank you. A-Are you not having any?" I ask her, looking up at her with a confused expression.
"Oh, no, I've already had enough this morning while making breakfast." She waves it off, sitting down. "But I'm starving, so let's all eat."
And with that, we ate our breakfast, which was absolutely incredible. Then, just as we're all finishing up with our waffles, Harry's phone begins to ring.
"Sorry, I thought it was on silent," he apologizes, fishing it out of the pockets of his black sweats. He glances down at it under a table, then looks up at the ceiling, sighing. He shuts his eyes tightly before pushing his chair back. "I've gotta take this."
Anne and I stare at him as he stands up, then exchange looks of confusion. I turn my attention back to Harry, who quickly picks up his plate and rushes it to the kitchen sink, his phone still ringing in his hand.
Finally, he answers it. "Hello?" His voice grows quieter as he walks down the hallway, then I hear the sound of a door shut.
Anne clears her throat, setting her utensils down on top of her plate. She pushes her chair back away from the edge up the table before standing up.
I quickly hop up off my chair, scrambling to pick my dishware up in order to meet her at the sink in order to help her with the dishes. But as soon as I get to the sink, she takes my plate from me saying, "I got it. You relax."
I wasn't going to argue with her on this. She seemed to be extra stubborn at the moment, and I didn't want to push her buttons in any way. So I went and returned to my seat at the dining room table. I pull out my phone, taking now as the perfect opportunity to send a quick check-in text to Jess.
***
"I was planning to ask you if you wanted to make cookies at breakfast this morning," Anne says with a chuckle, setting things the last recipe necessities like butter, shortening, and milk on the counter. "But Harry's never been very good with surprises."
I can't help but let a laugh escape. "Yeah, I've figured that out."
"He's said you love baking, and I've been meaning to make a batch for a while now. I was hoping to have it be a thing we all could do together." She looks down briefly subtly.
"The call shouldn't take too long, right?" I try to be optimistic. "Do you think we should wait for him?"
"No, it's alright." She waves me off. "You and I will get a headstart and he can join whenever he's finished."
Although I felt bad for Anne, since she wanted to spend time with Harry specifically, I know Harry wouldn't have taken the call if he didn't feel it was necessary. There have been many times in the past few days when his phone has rung and he's checked it, then decided to let it go to voicemail.
"Harry mentioned something about you going to the Brits with him and Gem. Are you excited?" Anne asks as she walks across the kitchen, making small talk. She returns with a red Kitchenaid mixer in her arms. She sets it on top of the counter, removes the bowl, and plugs the cord into a nearby power outlet.
"I am." I nod, the idea itself making my stomach do flips. "I'm pretty nervous, but I'm excited. I've never been to an awards show before."
"Not many people can say they have." She laughs as she opens up a cookbook before she begins flipping through the pages. "I've been to a number, but it's been a few years since the last one." She stops turning the pages, her manicured finger pointing to the recipe on the left page. "Ah, here it is, 'My Favorite Chocolate Chip Cookies'. Okay, we need to mix together the sugar, brown sugar, eggs, vanilla, shortening, and butter."
"Do you bake a lot?" I ask as she hands me a measuring cup and gestures to the jar of white sugar that had been sitting on the counter this whole time.
"Not much anymore. I used to though," she says with a shrug, packing brown sugar into a ¼ cup measuring cup. "But when your nest is empty and you're the only one eating the sweets, you kind of try to steer away from them."
I chuckle, although I couldn't really relate. Anytime I made anything, it was in Jess' stomach in milliseconds. And if Jackson happened to be there too, oh god don't even get me started.
I pour the cup of sugar into the bowl then reach down to pick up the half cup, repeating the same process. Anne and I finish making the recipe, laughing and chatting about anything and everything. I felt a bond forming between us. I felt so...comfortable with her. Like, she was the kind of woman to totally take you under her wing if you asked. She was a great lady, and obviously an amazing mother figure.
"Well, welcome back," Anne says as I'm focused on scraping the finished dough off the sides of the bowl.
I tilt my head up to see Harry approaching the kitchen, shoulders slumped. His eyes meet mine and he flashes me smile as he takes a seat on a barstool across from where I stood by the sink.
"Sorry, that took a bit longer than I expected," he's quick to apologize, sighing. He hunches over, his elbows resting against the counter. He seemed pretty tense; stress, I'm guessing. "How are the cookies coming along?"
"Great, no thanks to you," Anne says jokingly, and Harry presses his lips into a thin line, narrowing his eyes to give her a dirty look. "But now that you're here," she then pipes up, untying her cheetah-print apron before tossing it onto the counter, "You can help finish up. I need to run to the loo."
Anne quickly hurries off to the bathroom, leaving Harry and I alone in the now dead-silent kitchen. Harry hops off his stool before making his way over to stand next to me. He rests his chin on my shoulder, watching my actions from above.
I reach to my right to grab the jar of chocolate chips Anne retrieved earlier, opening it up so I could add them to the dough. Harry sneaks his arm around to steal a few chips from the container before popping them into his mouth. I turn my head, giving him a glare, shaking my head at him in disappointment. I turn my attention back to my task at hand.
"Who called?" I decided to ask so the room wouldn't flood with silence. And in response, Harry sighs, so I knew it couldn't have been a pleasant phone call.
"Jeff," he says with another sigh, confirming that the call had been work-related. His tone was probably the least excited I've ever heard from him. "And now that we're on the topic, I need to ask you... Is it alright if I'm away for a few hours on Valentine's Day? It won't be for very long and it'll be pretty early on."
"May I ask why?" I dump a good amount of chocolate chips into the dough.
"You could probably add more," Harry quickly advises, so I do. "Anyways, I was asked to be on the Radio 2 Breakfast Show, and I would be going on at like 8:30, so I'd probably have to leave around 6...ish."
"And you'd only be gone for a few hours?" I ask, just to clarify.
"Yes." He nods vigorously, his chin moving against my shoulder.
"Then I don't really see a problem," I say sincerely, shrugging. "There are 24 hours in a day, and if you have to be gone for a few of them, it's not that big of a deal."
"Exactly," he agrees, and I can hear a change in his tone. "And I just have to do a small interview, then perform like 3 songs, and then I'll be all done. Then..." His hand rests on my waist just above my hip and he presses a kiss to the side of my neck. "We can spend the entire rest of the day together," he mumbles against my skin.
Butterflies were sent flying in my stomach at his touch, and I knew this was the wrong place and the wrong time to be getting this kind of feeling. And Harry knew it too, but it obviously didn't seem to phase him.
I return my focus to the dough, folding it over itself in order to mix in the chocolate chips. Harry's chin remains on my shoulder, still watching my movements from an aerial view. His arms are wrapped around my waist in a sort of long hug from behind. He wasn't helping much, but I didn't say anything because I wasn't even the slightest bit uncomfortable in this position.
Anne returns in a few seconds, just as I'm finalizing the dough. Harry doesn't move a muscle, and Anne smiles fondly at him and I as she enters the kitchen.
"Harry, are we working hard or hardly working?" She asks with a chuckle. I smile, although I've always hated that phrase. It was something Linda always said to my coworkers and I, but she always meant it in a serious, derogatory way, usually if we were "talking too loud".
"I'm helping. Look!" He grabs ahold of my wrists, pretending to mix the dough for me. But, the spoon just happened to be a little too stuck to a small piece of dough, which sent it flying across the room when he lifted my wrists in the air.
"Harry!" Anne scolds as he bursts into laughter, practically falling over. She gives him a death stare as she walks over, wiping the dough off the wall with her middle finger. She then holds up said finger, flipping Harry off.
"Hey, it was an accident." He holds his hands up in defence, as if she was pointing a gun at him. I can't help but smile at the two of them and their playful banter. I love how they can joke with each other...sometimes it's nice to not take everything so seriously.
"Has he always been this bad?" I ask jokingly, wanting to join in. Anne chuckles.
"Oh, he was worse!" She says. "He used to be a lot cuter too."
"Hey!" Harry acts offended, though I'm sure it didn't hurt his ego too much.
"Oh, you know what could be fun," Anne begins to say, "If we put these in the oven, and while we wait for them to bake, we look through Harry's old photo albums."
"Nope." Harry freezes, eyes wide. "Absolutely not."
"Oh come on," I say, loving to see the way his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. Plus, who wouldn't want to look at Harry's childhood. "It would be so much fun!"
"How would looking at pictures of a younger, far less handsome me be fun?" He shakes his head.
"Not the pictures themselves." I roll my eyes playfully, an excited smile on my face. "The stories behind them."
"I'll go get them," Anne says, rushing off.
"You're the worst." Harry shakes his head again avoiding looking at me by looking straight over my head.
I place my hands on the side of his head, tilting it down to force his eyes to meet mine. "Don't complain. You love it."
***
"And this was our first trip to The States, when we went to DisneyWorld," Anne says, pointing to a picture.
"Who's this?" I ask, pointing the man next to young Harry in the picture.
Harry lifts his head off my shoulder, and that made me think he was really paying attention while I flipped through the photo album.
"Oh, that's Robin," he says. "He's my stepdad." I look over at him to see a soft smile on his lips. He was looking down at the picture in admiration. "Seriously the nicest guy you'd ever meet."
"Where is he?" I ask innocently, not even thinking before I let the idiotic words spill out of my mouth.
"He, uh..." Harry clears his throat. "He passed away a few years ago...from cancer."
My heart drops. Fuck. "Oh my god...I'm so sorry."
"No, it's alright," Anne speaks up, waving me off. "I really don't mind talking about him. He's my soulmate."
I felt a pain in my heart, feeling awful for bringing it up. It seems like they were all close...that would be such a hard thing to go through. I've lost a brother, but I could never imagine losing a father, or even my husband, in Anne's case.
"Well, he seems like a really lovely guy," I say, hoping to make the situation any bit better.
"He was." She nods. She smiles down fondly at therm picture for a moment before turning the page, then, she laughs. "Oh, this is Harry with his old band."
"Can we do something else?" Harry asks, holding his head in his hands and rubbing his eyes harshly, refusing to look at the pictures.
"Watch the news if you don't wanna look," Anne says, pointing up to the tv.
I pause for a moment myself to look up at the screen of Anne's TV. The news channel was playing, the volume low, but loud enough so it entertained as background noise. I suddenly felt so...comfortable. I don't know if it was the smell of the cookies baking, or looking through the photo albums, or the fact that Anne made me feel so at home, but I just felt welcome; almost as if I was just a part of the family paying a normal visit. My heart was warm and full, filled up to the brim with happiness.
I look over at Harry, who decided to sit down next to me when Anne first pulled out the book, now staring down at the photo album sitting open on the coffee table in front of us. His thigh was touching mine and as he finally leaned over to get a look at the evidence of his past, his eyes locked with mine, a soft and loving smile on his face.
I look away sheepishly, his gaze causing my cheeks to heat up. It baffles me how a single look from him has that much of an effect on me.
I try to turn my attention back to Anne, who was previously explaining the stories behind Harry's photos, but she was now looking up at the tv.
"Two big stories to get to right away," I hear the newsman say as I turn over the large page. "Good evening, I'm Tom Evans."
"I'm Lucy Harris," the woman next to him doesn't hesitate to add. "But before we get to those stories, we're recapping the story about a car that was found much earlier this morning on West Heath Road, down the road from the Hampstead Scientific Society Observatory," the news anchor lady explains.
My eyes flick up to watch the TV once again, this news story stealing my attention away from the photo album before me. I've always found the news to be interesting, and I watched it at home when I had the time or I wasn't binge-watching anything else. If I wasn't watching it while making dinner, I was listening to it on my way to work, and that was about as much as I'd get of it.
"If you missed it on our morning segment, our very own Marie Kunway is still out there on the scene," Lucy explains. "Marie, what else have you been able to find out?"
Now, no one was even paying attention to the photo album. All our eyes were on the tv, all so intrigued by this news story. The screen changes, now showing a woman out in the cold, holding a microphone above her coated chest.
"Lucy, good afternoon to you. We are still on West Heath Road at the very sight of the crash, and we've been here since much earlier this morning," Marie speaks into her microphone. "It's hard to even tell there's been a crash here, since police cleared up the scene fairly quickly. But if we come over here," she walks to the side of the road, and the camera zooms in on the ground, "you can still see some of the glass remains from the crash."
"Oh my god," I hear Anne mumble next to me. I felt that same way.
"The vehicle, an off-white 2012 Ford Fusion, was found here at precisely 2:56 am, crashed directly into a tree just off the road. This tree, in fact." The camera then pans up a tree that was completely beat up, half the bark practically scraped off. "Police could hardly make out type of vehicle mangled in the crash, it was so bad - bad enough to be unsurvivable. Which is why police and witnesses were surprised when no body was found near the scene."
My eyes widen. No body? How is that even possible? Is that even possible?!
Harry must've been thinking the same thing, since he wrapped his hand around my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. I place my hand on top of his, my eyes glued to the tv.
"On a normal account, this kind of crash would be labeled as a hit and run, but a wallet with an I.D. and multiple credit cards, as well as a brand new iPhone 11 were found on the scene near the vechile. Because of this, police are leaning more towards believing it was a suicide, but without a body, they can't officially call it," Marie continues, making me feel sick to my stomach. "We do expect an update later on from Metropolitan Police as this investigation continues. But for now, they ask everyone to keep an eye out for the man that matches the I.D. they managed pull from the vechile. Now back to you, Lucy, with the identification."
My heart was racing.
"Thank you, Marie," Lucy and Tom return to the screen, back in the studio. "Now, police are on the lookout for a man by the name of Noah Smith..."
And with that, the world stops spinning. Lucy continues to talk, but I couldn't hear it over the ringing sound in my ears. My eyes burn as a picture of him from his I.D. appears on the screen.
"Babe, is that..." Harry's echoey voice reaches my ears, as the ringing quiets down a bit.
My body was frozen, I couldn't even open my mouth to speak, let alone form proper words. I was feeling a whole assortment of emotions. I just stared at the screen, Lucy still talking. She said something about reporting to police if anyone happened to spot Noah. But I knew exactly what she was really implying. They wanted someone to report to police if they found Noah's body.
None of this made sense. They said there was no way Noah could've survived a crash like that, but still no body found? I didn't know what was scarier at this point; Noah being alive or dead. But why would he leave his belongings in the car if it was 2 AM when he crashed and no one was even there to see it happen. My mind tried to find an answer where I knew there wasn't one. There was still a chance he was alive. But rationally...Noah is dead.
"I think I'm gonna be sick," I say quickly getting up, despite my woozy, shaky feeling. I rush away to the room Harry and I were staying in, quickly closing the door behind me, my mind still racing.
* * *
a/n: gotta keep it interesting.
anyways y'all yell at me for taking so long to update so here's like 3 1/2 chapters in one. you're welcome i guessðâ
ALSO BOOK 1 REACHED 1M??? y'all psycho. (i'm one to talk ik)