Isabelle's P.O.V

“This is my favourite boutique,” Gemma made an over exaggerated sweeping motion with her hands, “And that’s my favourite shoe store.” She pointed to a store beside the boutique; there was a giant window with boots and stilettos being shown off. I giggled. Harry groaned, “Please Gem. If you wanted to show my girlfriend all of your favourite places to drain your credit card, you could’ve left me out.”

I elbowed him in the ribs, afraid that he would make Gemma feel bad, but she turned with a wicked smile on her face. “Don’t worry Haz; I’ve saved the best stop for last.” With that, she led us around a corner. I grabbed onto Harry’s hand as our eyes fell onto a small little restaurant. The outside walls were painted a bright yellow, and the sign that hung above the door read, in bubbly cursive, ‘GALE’s DINER’. I whistled, and Harry yelped.

“Oh God Gem, I love you!” he cried. She laughed, “Well, if you like it so much, when you come to visit, you’ll be seeing it a lot more often, because I work here now.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes bulged out of his head and I laughed. “What’s the big deal with this place?” I asked curiously. “The big deal?” Harry looked shocked. “Have you tried their flapjacks? Or their potato wedges? Or their bacon?” I held up my hands, getting the idea, “I understand. They make great food.”

Gemma threw her arm around Harry’s shoulder, “Haz and I used to come here all the time when we were little. It’s our favourite spot.” She beckoned us inside, “Why don’t you come on in? I have a shift, but I’ll serve you brunch, on the house.”

Harry looked like a child who had just found out that Christmas had come early. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the diner.

The inside of the diner was painted yellow, matching the exterior. Black and white tiles were lined up on the floor in a checkered pattern. Waitresses bustled around on roller skates, dressed in bright pink dresses with a white apron, carrying trays to booths and tables. Posters decorated the walls, portraying Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, and other vintage famous people. “Wow,” I said, “This is like a real fifties diner.”

Gemma swept her hand around the room proudly, “Welcome to my job. I have to go change into my uniform, so just grab a booth, and I’ll be with you in a moment.” I nodded as she pranced off into a room that had an “Employees Only” sign on the door. Harry took my hand and slipped into the booth.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t take Paul,” he apologised, “He had to spend Christmas with his family.” I shrugged, “It’s no big deal. I’ve hardly met him. In fact, I barely know any of your other bandmates. Please introduce me.” Harry chuckled and reached for my hand across the table, which I gladly took. His hand was big and soft and I squeezed it appreciatively. I cleared my throat, changing the subject, and pulled my hand out of his, picking up a menu on the table. “So,” I began, “What looks good?”

“You,” he stated, and when I looked up, a creative smirk was plastered to his face. I blushed and buried my head back into the menu. “The flapjacks look good,” I noted, trying not to make eye contact, “What do you think?” I looked up again as he stated, “There’s only one thing I want here.”

“Yeah?” I asked absentmindedly as my gaze scrolled down the menu, “What?” Harry didn’t answer. I was about to look up at him when I suddenly felt long, skinny fingers against my knee. I whipped my head up to stare at Harry. He was leaning against the extremely narrow table, gazing at me and smirking. My mouth dropped into a little ‘o’.

“Harry,” I panicked quietly, “Harry, there are other people here.”

“So?” he teased, and I felt his hands move up a little farther. His fingers were now caressing the inside of my upper-thigh. I chewed on my lip, trying to kick him whilst staring down at the menu like nothing extremely dirty was going on. He just chuckled, managing to catch my leg in between his knees, and his hands continued their ascent up my legs. I stiffened as his fingertips brushed my core. Desire pooled in between my legs, and I gritted my teeth, afraid that it would seem like I was egging him on.

“You’re wet,” he noted coolly, and I mentally cursed. His fingers brushed my center again, and a moan slipped out of my lips. I quickly stifled it before anyone else could realise who it was. Closing my eyes, I felt Harry stroke me over my jeans. I set the menu down and rubbed my temples, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to make it look like I was just thinking hard.
Harry’s fingers brushed over my core once more before he pulled back, sitting back in his side of the booth. I stared up at him, panting slightly, wanting him to continue, even though I’d been so against it just a moment before. “Why did you stop?” I blurted. He looked at me blankly before bursting out into laughs. I swooned. He was just so gorgeous when he laughed. I wanted to leap over the table and kiss him crazily. “I thought you didn’t want me to go on,” he murmured seductively, clearly knowing that I wanted him to keep going. I pursed my lips and picked up the menu again, “Can we just forget about this right now?” I asked tentatively.

“Sure,” he said. I nodded, my cheeks very pink, and stared back down at the menu, “Okay. So what do you want to eat?”

“You,” he said simply, for the second time. I shook my head at his dirtiness and tried not to blush too hard. “I’m serious,” I sighed.

I flicked my eyes back up for a second to find Harry shifting uncomfortably. “What?” I asked.
He shook his head, “Nothing, nothing. I’m just not that hungry.” I set my menu down gently.

“What do you mean?” I stared at him quizzically, “You must be hungry. You didn’t eat at all last night, or this morning. And I heard your stomach growl before we went down for breakfast. What’s up?”

Harry was about to answer, but then Gemma appeared, looking a bit hurried, and I cursed mentally. She had shrugged into a uniform and roller states. I smiled up at her. “What can I get for you?” she beamed, and Harry shook his head, “Just water for me, Gem. But I think Isabelle wants the flapjacks? Brunch?” he looked at me, as if asking. I nodded, and added,

“And a side of potato wedges. Oh, and a chocolate milkshake.” Gemma chuckled and quickly scribbled my order down and then flashed us a grin, “Alright then. I’ll be back.” I bit my lip, smiling as she skated away to another table. I turned back to Harry and cleared my throat. “Well?”

He stared at me evenly, and I glared at him. “Why won’t you tell me?” I sighed exasperatedly, breaking his intense gaze. “Do you not trust me?” he rolled his eyes, “Don’t be ridiculous.” My shoulders hunched, “Then what?”

“It’s nothing love,” he told me, and he stood. “I have to go to the loo. Be right back.” He leaned down to kiss me, and I happily obliged, despite the fact that I was a little cross with him. “Mm,” I smiled, relishing his lips on mine. He pulled back and I grinned up at him, “Hurry back.”

Gemma’s P.O.V

I watched my baby brother stand up from the table and kiss his girlfriend lightly. I cracked a small smile as I saw them both grin like idiots when the other wasn’t looking. Huh. Maybe Haz had himself a good one this time. Quickly seeing my opportunity, I pounced on it. “Lacy,” I called out; “I’m taking a two minute break.” Lacy, a pudgy woman with gray hair and twinkling blue eyes, appeared out from behind the oven and grinned, “Fine dear.” I quickly yanked off my apron.

“Hey,” I said nonchalantly as I slid into the booth across from Isabelle. She looked surprised,

“Oh, um, hi Gemma. What’s up?” I shrugged, wanting to start off the conversation on a light topic, “Nothing much. So how do you like Holmes Chapel?” Isabelle smiled at a thought, “It’s really nice. Thanks for letting me stay with you.”

I waved the phrase away, “No problem hon. Anything for Harry’s girlfriend.” I saw her shift at that, and I cocked an eyebrow, “What?” I asked. She frowned slightly, “It’s nothing. It’s just…I know his status. He must bring a lot of girls back here.”

She was wrong. I hadn’t seen Harry this…happy…in a while actually. He never brought girls home, and in fact, the last time he’d introduced me to a girl that he’d thought was pretty, he’d been about thirteen. I’d teased him for a while after that. I was the older sister, after all, and it was my job.

“Actually,” I corrected, not wanting Isabelle to feel bad, “He never brings girls home. The last time I met someone he fancied, he was thirteen, and it was some skank named Veronica.” Isabelle guffawed, “She was a skank? At thirteen?”

I chuckled, “I guess you’re right. But Harry was a pretty good-looking lad growing up. I don’t know if he’s kept up the image though,” I teased, knowing that pretty much every girl on the planet wanted to kiss my brother’s face. Isabelle looked slightly reassured and laughed nervously.

“So,” I said, feeling as though this was a good time, “How do you like my brother?” Isabelle opened her mouth to say something, closed it, and thought. Finally she said, “What triggered this?” I shrugged, “I’m just wondering. I’m his big sister. Naturally I’d be a bit wary around girls, but you seem nice enough. And he clearly adores you, love. I’m just wondering if you feel the same way.”

“Um,” Isabelle gnawed on her lip, and I smirked, seeing why Harry found her so lovable, “Well, I would understand why you would wonder, Gemma. But I think everything between Harry and I is okay.” I shook my head, “You didn’t answer my question though. I asked if you liked him.”

Isabelle shifted uncomfortably, feeling nervous. I shook my head, “You know what? It’s okay. I put you on the spot, sorry.” I stood to leave, but she cut in, “No, no. I’m just thinking about…how best to word this.” She smiled at me and I smiled back as I eased back into my previous position. “Okay,” she said, nodding her head, “Yes Gemma. I like your brother a lot.”

“Yeah?” I asked, pressing for details, “Why’s that?”

“Well,” Isabelle stuttered, clearly not expecting me to dig any further, “Because—because he’s Harry. He’s so sweet and caring. He’s a little perverted sometimes—,” we both laughed at that, “but I like that. It seems as though he’s always smiling when he sees me, and he’s just…” she trailed off, looking for the perfect word. “Perfect?” I supplied. She grinned at me and nodded, “So it seems.”

I nodded too, beaming. “So,” I continued, “Just one last thing, ‘kay?”

“Shoot,” she replied cheerily, clearly relieved to get all of those feelings off of her chest, and clearly happy that she could satisfy me. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay,” I said, and then I just dropped it on her, “Do you love my brother?” Isabelle's smile dripped off of her face. “What?” she asked, evidently trying to stall. “Do you love him?” I repeated, and shrugged simply. “It’s not a hard question hon. Yes or no?”

“Um,” she bit on the inside of her cheek, “I-I don’t know Gemma. I haven’t known him for that long.”

“How long have you known him?” I asked, praying that this tactic would work. It did. She replied almost immediately, “Three weeks and two days.” I pointed at her, “See? That’s what I mean. How do you know that, if you don’t love him?”

“I have an excellent sense of time?” she tried with a laugh. I gave her a look of disapproval, and she slouched in her chair, “Say I do? How do I know that he even feels the same way? You’re a girl; you know guys are hard to figure out.” I shook my head, “You’re wrong. I may be a girl love, but this guy is my brother. I’ve known him for nineteen—almost twenty—years, and I’m being completely honest when I say that I know—I know—that he’s completely smitten with you.”

Isabelle smiled to herself, considering what I’d just said. She looked up at me shyly, “Don’t tell him, ‘kay?” I laughed, “Yes! Yes! Thank God! Because you know—,” I lowered my voice,

“Harry hasn’t felt this way about someone…ever. I see the way he looks at you, you know. It’s like he can’t bear to look away.”

“Really?” Isabelle looked down at the table, “Are you sure?” I nodded, completely positive,

“I’m sure,” I said empathetically, “He looks extremely happy, and personally, I haven’t seen him smile this much in a long while.”

She smiled, but then it was replaced with a quizzical look, “Are you sure you’re not just saying this?”

“Positive,” I replied, giggling, and I slid out from the booth. Blowing Isabelle a kiss, I said,

“Your food will be ready shortly,” and then I turned on my heel and went to confront a very cross Lacy, who looked disappointed that I’d taken longer than two minutes.

Isabelle’s P.O.V

I sat there, dumbstruck. My conversation with Gemma had really rattled me up. I couldn’t believe she’d thought that I’d loved Harry. But I did, didn’t I? I didn’t know. I was just so confused about everything, and what Gemma had asked me had really shaken me up. And then she’d just left me on a cliff hanger note like that. Grr…

But I couldn’t deny that what she’d said about Harry made me smile, and made me feel all warm and bubbly on the inside. I’d wanted to laugh, and maybe stand up and dance around the diner happily. Harry loved me? Or at least, Gemma thought so. I was a little wary. I’d never had much experience with boys, so I couldn’t exactly read what they felt or thought.

Harry loved me? I kept on repeating the question in my head. A big part of me wanted to believe it, hoping that Gemma was right and Harry did have the same feelings that I possibly felt for him. But a smaller part of me didn’t want to think about confronting him about it, afraid that he would deny it, and I’d be left tumbling into a spiraling cavern of rejection and heartbreak. Wait. Heartbreak? Why would I feel heartbroken? Unless I—

“Hey,” Harry was suddenly there, towering over me, the corners of his mouth curving up into a smile and exposing his dimples. “Hey,” I breathed, suddenly glad that he was here. Then I poked him in the abdomen, “I thought I’d told you to hurry, you slowpoke.” Harry chuckled and slid into the booth beside me abruptly, making me move over a little too slowly. His hip brushed mine, and tingles ran up my spine.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking over at me, and he leaned in to peck me on the lips. I smiled when he pulled back, “You’re forgiven.” He laughed, but then said, “I saw you chatting with Gemma. What was that all about?”

“You didn’t hear?” I asked, hoping that he hadn’t. A huge sense of relief washed over me when he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Oh, well she just came over to ask me if I liked it here,” I told him, which was the partial truth. He nodded and gave me a questioning look, “Are you?” he asked quietly, but when I looked over at him, he was trying not to smirk. I nodded, “Yes, of course. It’s better that you’re here now.” He grinned, exposing his full-fledged dimple, and I wanted to kiss him right there. “I feel the same way,” he told me sincerely, and butterflies took off in my stomach. He leaned in to kiss me again, and I happily touched my lips to his, humming as a fiery sensation ripped through my body.

Harry pulled back and pecked me once more on the cheek before standing up and sliding back into his side of the booth. I grinned at him and reached for his hand, grabbing it by the fingertips and smiling. He smiled and I felt his leg brush up against mine. Subconsciously I stiffened, and he burst out laughing. I blushed, giggling as well, but I was very embarrassed.

Gemma reappeared with our food a few minutes later—well, my food anyways. “Wow,” I marvelled, “That was fast.” Gemma smiled and shot me a wink as she set down my pancakes, potato wedges and my chocolate milkshake. “Of course,” she gushed, and she was so cheery that I was afraid that she would just blurt out our whole conversation to Harry right there and then. But she just giggled and walked away, tightening the knot on her apron.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at me as I reached for the maple syrup on the table. “What was that all about?”

I slathered syrup onto my pancakes, “No idea,” I said, and cut a piece and took a bite, “This is really good,” I noted, trying to change the subject. Harry stared at me for a nanosecond, not looking convinced, but then shrugged and sipped his water, which Gemma had also brought. I had a feeling that he would badger me about it later, and I groaned internally.

“Want a bite?” I asked, holding out my fork. He looked unsure, but then lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “Sure. What’s one bite going to do?” I grinned and we both leaned forward, over the extremely narrow table. Our noses almost touched. I pushed the fork towards Harry and he ate the piece of pancake that was on it. I grinned at him as he lurched forward and kissed my lips lightly. “Aw!” I scoffed, and he grinned sitting back. I licked my lips and tasted syrup. At the moment, it was the best taste in the world.

Harry reached for my chocolate milkshake and quickly took a sip before I could object. “I thought you weren’t hungry?” I teased. His eyes darkened slightly, “I’m not.” I resorted to pleading, “Harry, would you just tell me what’s going on? I hate not knowing.”

“Would you just drop it?” he snapped. I set my fork down, where it clattered noisily on the plate. “Fine,” I said, fed up, “Fine.” I finished my meal in silence, not looking at him after that.

He sighed and stared out the window while I slurped up the rest of my milkshake. Then, without warning, I set my napkin down and clenched my jaw, very mad at him. Why couldn’t he just tell me what the hell was going on? What was his problem?

I stood up and turned on my heel, walking quickly out the door. Harry appeared after me, fumbling with his car keys, and I crossed my arms, stalking over to the car. I slid in and stared out the window for the entire ride.

Notes

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