Collision

After an exhausting week, I'm finally heading home Friday afternoon for the weekend. Since the dinner with my dad's colleague was cancelled, my parents decided that tonight would be the perfect night to meet Harry.

I rush upstairs when I get to the house and try to clean as much as I can before he comes over. Harry has been to my house when it was messy before but cleaning is a good way to get my mind off of the upcoming night. I take a shower, standing under the stream until the water gets cold, and dry off and head into my closet. I have no idea what to wear. It's my house but it's a nice dinner.

Changing my mind at least ten times, I settle for a cream colored sweater and dark jeans that are comfortable but are formal, too. The silky fabric of the sweater feels soft against my skin as I slide it over my head. It's a bit snug but it'll do for the night.

The dinner is supposed to begin at 7:00 and I still have an hour to do whatever I please. I could go downstairs and help my mother prepare dinner but she wants to be alone when she's trying to decide what to do about my boyfriend.

I've just slipped on my socks when I get a phone call from Harry.

"Hello?" I ask and position the phone to where it's on my shoulder as I tie up my boots.

"Jess, I need help," Harry's voice sounds strained, like he's lifting a ton of weight.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know what to wear," another movement sounds in the background and then he sighs in relief.

"Something nice to impress my parents." I urge him. It's not the easiest thing to persuade Harry into wearing dress clothes.

"Why can't I just wear jeans and a t-shirt?" He groans like a toddler.

"You're trying to get my parents to like you!"

"Fine, I'll find something to wear. See you in a few," he says and shuts off the phone. Normally, I'd be worried at his cold closure but I know he's pressured about tonight. No matter how many times he denies it, he's worried that my parents won't like him and we'll go back to sneaking around.


An hour later I giddily run down the stairs when the doorbell rings. I sling open the door and immediately let out a chuckle.

"Don't laugh at me," he furrows his eyebrows. He's dressed in a white button down shirt with black dress pants. He looks different, but it an extremely good way.

"You look nice," I smile and hug him.

"I look like a fucking waiter," he adjusts the collar on the tight shirt. I invite him inside and take his hand as we walk down the hallway.

"How long will this last?" He whispers so my parents won't hear us.

"Hopefully a few hours," I say. I hope that this won't end badly in a few minutes.

We walk into the dining room and take a seat at the table. Harry goes to sit down in my dad's seat but I quickly pick him up and sit him down beside me before my parents enter the room.

"Hello, Harry," My mother puts on her sweetest voice and smile. She surprises Harry by hugging him tightly, something I've never seen him do with anyone other than me. When he pulls away, his face is red.

"Hi Mr. Andrews," he shakes my father's hand. My dad raises his eyebrows at me as if to say, well at least the boy has manners.

"Jess, come help me get the food," my mother says and I disappear into the kitchen with her.

"He's cute," she smiles as she picks up the platter of baked chicken. I grab the bowl of mashed potatoes and green beans, ignoring her comment, and set the things on the table.

We all sit down at the table and join hands to give thanks for the meal. Harry's hand lingers on mine for a bit after we end the prayer and he winks at me.

"So, Harry," My dad cuts his chicken and fixes him with the interrogative stare, "do you play any sports?"

"No sir," Harry answers nervously.

"Harry's in the National Honor Society," I butt in, hoping to increase his chances.

"Really? I wouldn't have taken you for the smart type," My father rudely remarks.

"Dad," I say sharply.

"How come I have never seen your father?" My dad says, and Harry and I suck in a breath at the same time.

"He left my mum when I was four," he mumbles quietly and looks at his plate.

"I am so sorry," Mom puts her hand over Harry's and gives him a warm smile.

"We're better off without him," he dismisses her but doesn't move her hand from his.

"It's just you and your mother?" Dad asks him after a moment of silence.

"My sister moved to Denver a year ago," Harry replies.

Dad nods and takes a sip of water. Things are silent for another few minutes until my dad speaks up again, this time with an easier question.

"Do you like sports?"


"Let me help you," I take the sponge from my mother and begin scrubbing the dishes clean. It's not that I want to clean dishes, I want to see what my mother thinks about Harry.

"So?" I nudge her as I'm washing a fork.

"Harry is a nice, smart young man," she smiles, not meeting my eyes.

"I told you."

"Even though I don't want to admit it, you two are meant for each other," she says and I drop the sponge into the sink.

"What?"

"He looks at you differently. Like you complete him," she smiles. I finish washing the dishes without another word after her comment and disappear into the living room to join Harry and my father who have been discussing sports the entire time.

"There's too many choices," Harry shakes his head as he laughs. I step out of the shadows and behind the couch.

"Choices of what?" I startle both of them as I speak up.

"The best college football player," Harry answers my look and pats the empty couch cushion beside him.

"Does anyone want cookies?" Mom appears with a tray full of sugar cookies. Harry goes to get one but she forces the entire platter into his hands before taking a seat with my father.

"These are great Mrs. Andrews," Harry picks up his second cookie and wipes the crumbs off of his lips.

"What are you and your mother doing for Thanksgiving?" Mom randomly brings up.

"Nothing really," Harry shrugs.

Mom's eyes light up. "You two should come along with us upstate!"

"I'm not sure-" Harry starts.

"You two are very welcome to join us! Please?" She begs.

"I'll ask my mum," Harry decides and Mom squeals, clapping her hands. This is the woman who a few weeks ago was calling Harry a bad influence.

While my mother and father are talking about the plans on Thanksgiving, Harry turns to me.

"I didn't get the math homework," he says it loudly enough so my parents can hear him.

"Oh, sure." We both stand up and begin walking toward the stairs, away from my chattering parents.

Notes

Here's a long chapter for all of you guys! Thanks for being the best readers!!