Summertime & Butterflies

Harry had barely managed to pull his pants on when an incessant ringing of the doorbell – bordering on obnoxious – rang through the house. The chimes took Olivia by surprise – she’d been so caught up in her shower with Harry, she completely forgot his mother and sister were on their way to his house.

“Fuck, I look like shit,” Olivia hissed, wiping the steam from the mirror and peering at her face. Her mascara had begun to run down her face, and what bits stayed near her eyes settled under her lashes, giving her a damp raccoon look. She knew she looked like shit the first time she met Anne – the day following Harry’s accident, when her eyes were heavy with sleep and red from tears – and she promised herself she would try to look presentable outside of the hospital, to look like someone who deserved to be with her son.

Harry laughed, swatting Olivia’s terry-cloth covered bottom. “You don’t,” he promised her, pulling his shirt over his head before pressing a wet kiss against her cheek. “You look like my sexy chick who just rode me in the shower and sucked my dick like a champ,” he added, cheekily smirking at Olivia as he held his hand up for a high five.

Olivia rolled her eyes at Harry, swatting his hand away. “Ah, yes…” she mused sarcastically. “The look every mother looks for in her son’s girlfriend.”

Laughing loudly, Harry snagged Olivia’s lips with his quickly before opening the bathroom door. “I think it works for you,” he teased. “But if you don’t agree…” He trailed off, shrugging before offering her a grin. “Just take whatever time you need, love,” he added, closing the door behind him and leaving Olivia to somehow make herself look more presentable… without any of her supplies in the bathroom.

“Shit,” she cussed, about to open the door when she heard Harry’s mother happily greet him in the entry way. Her path to the master bath upstairs was now blocked by Anne and Gemma, and she realised Anne would have to continue to wait to see her son’s girlfriend looking presentable.

She let out a loud sigh before covering her mouth, hoping no one heard her. Truthfully, she didn’t think Anne cared if Olivia had on mascara or not. She hadn’t spent much time with the woman – when Anne visited the hospital during the day, Olivia tended to vacate and give the two some alone time while she explored the halls and found the best vending machines – but she seemed to like Olivia. Harry had assured her that his mother thought Olivia was great, but Olivia knew he wouldn’t tell her if Anne didn’t think she was great, so she didn’t put much stock in his reassurances.

She pulled the elastic from her hair, shaking out the damp waves and wishing for a blow dryer. She peered under the sink, just to be sure Harry wasn’t hiding hair care products on her, before jutting her lips out into a pout as she tried to yank her hair back into a knot that didn’t scream sex hair. After tackling the raccoon eyes with a bit of hand soap, toilet paper and a lip balm she had tucked into her bra – tricks from her slutty college days – she tugged her clothes back on, slathered a cucumber melon scented lotion over her arms and opened the door, hoping for the best.

Harry had already led his mother and sister to the deck. Olivia stepped to the door, feeling uncharacteristically shy as she poked her head outside. It was one thing to see Anne at the hospital, but seeing her at the house that Olivia very comfortably made herself at home at was a bit nerve-wracking. She hoped Anne – or Gemma, the protective sister – didn’t think she was overstepping her boundaries.

“Hi…” Olivia called out quietly, reminding herself to smile as she stepped outside. Anne turned at the sound of her voice, a wide smile across her face.

“There she is!” she greeted happily, surprising Olivia. Anne stood up, meeting Olivia halfway across the patio and surprising Olivia more as she enveloped her into a hug. Olivia knew she wasn’t an unlikable person, but she also knew her ex boyfriend’s mother despised her. Something about her being opinionated, sassy and cussing like a sailor, but Olivia knew it had more to do with her taking Ryan from his mommy. She knew Anne wasn’t like that, but it was still new for her to have a boyfriend’s mother willingly hug her.

“We were just saying how nice it is to be able to visit in this beautiful weather, rather than in that horrible hospital room,” Anne continued, her hand pressing against Olivia’s back as she guided her to the patio furniture.

“Isn’t that the truth?” Olivia remarked, politely agreeing as she met Harry’s sister’s eyes. Sisters of brothers could be scary – Olivia was relieved she hadn’t met Anne and Gemma at the same time. She wouldn’t have known who to be more fearful of.

Pushing the thought out of her mind, she smiled at Gemma. “I’m Olivia,” she told her as she stuck her hand out, internally wincing at the unnecessity of her comment. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Gemma took Olivia’s hand in hers, smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” she replied. She sounded pleasant enough, but the smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes told Olivia that Gemma was hesitant, protective and would be a tough one to please.

Olivia sat down on the patio couch next to Harry, across from Anne and Gemma. The two women had a glass of wine in front of them, and Gemma didn’t waste any time taking an extra glass from the tray and pouring it for Olivia. She might have been hard to please, but Olivia wasn’t.

“Thank you,” she said appreciatively, reminding herself to take small, ladylike sips, rather than guzzling the nectar like she usually did. She curled her legs under her, ensuring she kept a few respectful inches between herself and Harry. She didn’t think it would be very becoming of her if she draped herself all over Harry in front of his mother, and given how fired up they both ended up with the simplest of touches, it was best to keep her hands to herself.

Harry didn’t seem to care about touching his girlfriend in front of his mother and sister, as he stretched his arm across Olivia’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “Yeah, I’m so glad to be out of that place,” Harry commented, leaning forward to tug the coffee table closer to his injured leg before propping his foot on it.

“You’ve still got aways to go, though, love,” Anne gently reminded him, uttering the words that were on the tip of Olivia’s tongue. She realised she needed to tone down her comments and suggestions to Harry if she was thinking the same thing his mother was. “Be sure not to overdo it… you don’t want to go back.”

Harry exhaled loudly, but nodded. “I know, I know,” he assured his mother. “It’s going to be massively tough to get through these premieres… But man, I can’t wait.”

Anne beamed; the mention of Harry’s upcoming big screen debut pleasing her. “Oh, I can’t wait either,” she enthused, her eyes bright with pride. She held Harry’s gaze for a moment, the proud smile not leaving her face, before she turned to Olivia.

“Have you ever been to London?”

Olivia shook her head. “Not yet, no,” she answered. “I can’t wait, though. I can’t wait to see you,” she added, turning to Harry, her own pride evident. She wistfully wished she’d have been a part of Harry’s life while he was filming the movie, or recording his album, but though he was a stranger to her when he filmed and recorded, it didn’t make her any less proud.

Harry grinned, tugging Olivia closer to him. “I can’t wait to show you around,” he stated eagerly. “It’s so nice in the summer, too. Guess this will make it a bit of a challenge,” he added, gesturing to his leg, “but we’ll figure something out.”

Gemma watched the exchange between her brother and Olivia, and if Olivia had been paying attention, she’d have noticed a slight scowl across Gemma’s face. “How long have you been teaching for?” she queried, the question seemingly innocent, though out of left field.

“Uhm…” Olivia began, thrown off by the sudden change in subject. “I got my degree in oh-eight… subbed for a few years, and got the position I’m in now in two thousand eleven. So… just finished my fifth year, I guess…” she said, refraining from counting on her fingers.

“Good for you,” Anne kindly praised, but the scowl on Gemma’s face remained.

“Hmm… Interesting…” Gemma commented, covering her frown with her wine glass. “You must really love it.”

Olivia wasn’t sure what to make of Gemma’s comments, but she nodded in agreement. “I do,” she replied. “Most days, anyway,” she added with an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Is it true that, like, all male teachers are completely ineligible bachelors?” Gemma continued, letting a bit of an edge coat her words.

Olivia was confused. “Uhm… I mean, I’ve never heard that?” she commented, her voice rising up questioningly. “I think that some are, most are, just fine…?” She furrowed her brow curiously, wondering what Gemma was getting at with her comments.

“Hmm…” Gemma hummed again, infuriating Olivia. She didn’t know what sort of riddles Gemma was speaking in, but she knew they weren’t kind. She bit her tongue so hard that if it had been literally, she’d have tasted blood.

Harry snickered. “Not like she needs to worry about bachelors – eligible or not – anymore, anyway,” he countered boastfully, rubbing Olivia’s shoulder. “She’s got me, and I’m the best, most eligible, funniest… best ever!”

“Modest, too,” Olivia quipped quietly, Gemma’s ambiguous remarks bothering her, but trying not to let it show. She was certain Gemma had seen countless girls try to get with Harry just because of who he was, and she understandably had her guard up. Olivia knew it would be tough to try and convince Gemma she was different, but she was stubborn and determined and used to getting her own way. She would.

~*~*~*~

“I don’t think your sister likes me very much,” Olivia whispered to Harry. After the girls had finished the bottle of wine, Harry and Olivia disappeared into the house to fix snacks for everyone, and get in a couple of kisses without the Mother and the Sister seeing. The afternoon had been pleasant enough, but Gemma hardly spoke two words to Olivia. The words she did speak sounded kind, but if working in a high school had taught Olivia anything, she knew when girls were being catty, and when their compliments were nothing more than roundabout insults. Gemma’s comments were textbook backhanded compliments.

Harry eyed Olivia curiously from his perch on the island counter barstool. “What are you on about?” he asked. “She likes you just fine! Why wouldn’t she?” he wondered, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he resumed to cutting a tray of pickles.

Olivia pressed her palms to the counter, leaning over. “She asked me if my shirt came from Lane Bryant!”

“So?”

“So that’s a fat girl’s store!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re not fat, love,” he reminded her with a sigh.

“Yeah, I know, but she thinks I am!” Olivia hissed. “Then when I said, no, it’s from Michael Kors, she raised her eyebrow all suspiciously, and then looked at you! Like as if to say I can only wear this shit if you buy it for me!”

“Didn’t I?” Harry wondered, looking up from his haphazard pile of pickle strips, his lack of concern over his sister’s comments infuriating Olivia.

Olivia sighed exasperatedly. “So not even close to the point, Harry,” she told him. She tugged angrily on the collar of her shirt. “I could have bought this myself, you know! She’s making it sound like I’m a fucking gold digger!”

“But she ain’t messin’ with no broke – okay, okay,” Harry interrupted himself, smiling sheepishly in response to Olivia’s scowl. He stretched his hand across the counter, reaching for Olivia’s fingers. “I think you’re reading a bit too much into this, love,” he told her, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. “It takes Gem a bit to warm up to people, but you’ll be fine. She likes you, don’t worry.”

Olivia sighed again. She didn’t believe Harry, but she didn’t want to press her thoughts further. She would just have to wait for Gemma to say something else, and hope sweet, dumb Harry caught it.

“Okay,” she exhaled, stepping closer to Harry. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her weight against his good leg. “Guess as long as you like me, that’s all that matters,” she quipped playfully, tickling her fingers along the nape of his neck.

“You’re alright, I guess,” Harry teased back, his arms encircling Olivia. He smiled, his hands dancing along the small of her back. “I’ll keep you around,” he added before pressing a gentle kiss against her lips.

Olivia smiled contentedly, reciprocating Harry’s kiss. She knew they needed to finish preparing the food and return to Anne and Gemma, but it was always so difficult to stop kissing Harry once she started. As though to prove this, Olivia inched herself closer to Harry, tucking her body between his knees as the innocent kiss intensified.

“Ahem.”

Harry and Olivia pulled themselves apart at the sound of the throat-clearing. Turning, they saw Gemma stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, looking more irritated than embarrassed. She stepped into the kitchen, snagging a piece of pickle from the plate and chewing it thoughtfully as she switched her gaze between Harry and Olivia.

“Suppose you want to get as much of that in before the end of summer, yeah?” she questioned innocently, folding her arms across the counter in front of her.

Harry chuckled, keeping an arm around Olivia’s waist. “I’d do it all day, every day, if I could,” he replied, giving Olivia’s side a light squeeze.

Gemma rolled her eyes. “Gross,” she commented. “But, seriously. What’s going to happen at the end of summer? Head back to work? Far, far away from my brother?” She clucked her tongue once in an attempt to sound sympathetic to the plight.

“Of course,” Olivia replied, her words sharp. Harry’s brow furrowed curiously, though Olivia didn’t know if it was caused by her words or tone of words.

“You say that as though you’ve already decided,” Harry commented quietly, causing Olivia’s own brow to furrow. She knew she would be lying if she hadn’t thought about what it would be like to quit her job, move to Harry and spend the rest of her life with him. Without question, it was what she wanted to do. But the rational side of her had to continuously remind the flighty side that she had responsibilities at home, she had a mortgage and pets and an entire life Harry hadn’t even seen. They were so new, quitting her job to be his stay-at-home-girlfriend was far from the responsible move.

Still, Harry spoke as though he would argue that. “Well… I mean… I have to…” she told him slowly. “I can’t stay here forever,” she added with a forced laugh, avoiding Gemma’s eyes. Something told Olivia that the sister would enjoy seeing a difference of opinions between Harry and his girlfriend.

“Why not?” Harry’s voice had a pouting sound to it, and he tugged Olivia closer to him, resting his head against the top of her breasts. Her hands found the nape of his neck again and her fingers tangled through his hair.

“Because…” Olivia said, looking up as Gemma stalked out of the room, clearly disappointed her attempt to get Harry and Olivia to fight was foiled. She smiled to herself but didn’t let it show as she turned back to Harry, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. “You got tangled up with an independent woman, my love,” she teased.

“Guess I’ll just have to marry you to get you down here then,” Harry answered, his voice muffled by her breasts. Still, Olivia heard exactly what he’d said. Her stomach tumbled and her eyes, out of Harry’s line of vision, widened.

Marriage?!

Notes