Summertime & Butterflies

To say she felt out of place ascending the stairs to the private jet taking the Los Angeles lot of them to London would be the understatement of the century. The only time Olivia had been even close to being in a private jet wasn’t close at all. Her mother insisted she take a helicopter ride with her at the yearly town fair a year or two prior. It was small, shaky and fifteen minutes of hell, the worst trip of her life – even worse than the flight she met Harry on. Throwing up was never her end goal, but at least on the helicopter and commercial flights, the upholstery was nothing to write home about. The buttery, white leather seats of the private plane would surely show any stain of any bodily fluid she emitted.

“Wow… this is super nice,” Olivia commented quietly to Harry as she followed him into the cabin. He turned to look at her, a sheepish grin on his face.

“It’s kind of a bit much, but Jeff said it made the most sense to get all of us to London together,” Harry explained with a shrug. “I don’t really mind commercial flights… Met this girl on one once. Turned out alright,” he added teasingly, reaching for Olivia’s hand.

Olivia snickered and squeezed his hand. “Just alright, eh?” she teased back, reminding herself not to ask why Jeff was making financial decisions for Harry. She’d warmed up to Jeff slightly after Harry’s accident, but she knew he would never be one of her favourite people. He was the definition of spoiled rich kid, and those weren’t Olivia’s kind of people. It was something she intended on keeping to herself – it was bad enough she didn’t get on with Harry’s sister, she didn’t need him in between her and Jeff as well.

“Eh…” Harry shrugged nonchalantly before turning to face Olivia, taking her purse from her and discarding it on one of the ten seats in the cabin. “Maybe better than alright,” he murmured to her, nuzzling his lips on hers.

Smiling against his lips, Olivia reciprocated the kiss. “Maybe,” she agreed, feeling a nudge behind her. She broke from Harry and turned, meeting Glenne’s grinning face.

“Get a room,” she told the couple playfully. “Or a tiny plane bathroom,” she added with a teasing shrug.

“We would if you weren’t here,” Harry grumbled, his smirk telling Glenne he was kidding. “Ol’ Cockblock Christiaansen herself,” he added with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“Never stopped you before,” Jeff piped up, coming up behind Glenne. “Remember Mexico?”

“And New York,” added Glenne.

Olivia felt her face flush. Once sober, Olivia didn’t like that Harry’s friends had heard them getting it on, though Drunk Olivia thought it was a massive turn on. She looked at Harry, seeing the red hue creep up his neck. Sober and Drunk Harry felt the same ways she did.

“Fuck off,” Harry told his friends, slipping into the window seat before tugging on Olivia’s arm to join him. A table sat in front of them, with two more chairs on the other side of it. Two single chairs were across the aisle, and four more sat closer to the cockpit. The chairs were about twice the size of the standard airline seats, which would make the eleven hour journey to London all the more comfortable. And while the cabin was far from private, there was a small room between the main cabin and the restroom, featuring a sofa, a couple of chairs and – most importantly – a locking door.

Jeff laughed loudly, sliding into the seat across from Harry. “You keep us up all night, we have the right to bug,” he told Harry, looking to Glenne for confirmation as she sat across from Olivia.

“It’s true,” Glenne replied. “Except, we don’t want to bug Liv. Just you,” she corrected, offering Olivia a reassuring smile. She’d wondered it before, she’d wonder it again, but Olivia couldn’t fathom why someone as kind as Glenne was with a putz like Jeff. She almost let her question slip once, in Mexico, but luckily she’d found a little bit of decorum amongst the tequila and kept her question to herself.

“She’s very bothered when you bug me,” Harry told Glenne. “Right, honey?” he asked, draping an arm across Olivia’s shoulders.

Olivia shrugged. “I kind of enjoy it,” she teased him, laughing as Harry’s frown deepened.

He scowled at his friend. “You’re all a bunch of assholes,” he grumbled, turning his scowling face to Olivia. “Especially you,” he told her, his scowl turning into a pout. “You’re supposed to be on my team!”

“I always forget that part,” Olivia answered innocently, reaching under the table for Harry’s hand. “You’ll have to get me a Team Harry t-shirt so I remember,” she told him, resting her head against his shoulder.

Harry shook his head before planting a kiss atop Olivia’s. “Pita, Pita, Pita…” he sighed dramatically. The nickname had taken off in the few days since Harry first coined the acronym, but Olivia didn’t mind it. She found it quite sweet, in a silly way.

“Oh, my! What a lovely plane!”

Harry and Olivia turned in their seats as Anne and Gemma boarded the plane. Seeing Gemma caused a knot to form in Olivia’s stomach, a knot she desperately wished would go away. She didn’t want Harry’s sister being any kind of issue in their relationship – they had enough to get through without her snide comments. Suddenly, Olivia was desperate for a large – massive, even – glass of wine. The eleven hours with Gemma would be torture regardless, but wine would help.

Olivia met Gemma’s eyes as the two women made their way down the aisle. They hadn’t seen one another since their kitchen altercation – Olivia had insisted on staying in the house, much to Harry’s chagrin. She knew he told Anne and Gemma that she wasn’t feeling well, but she also knew there was a very big chance that Gemma didn’t believe him.

“Hi, honey,” Anne greeted Olivia. “Are you feeling better?” she asked, caringly stroking Olivia’s hair.

Olivia nodded. “I am, thank you,” she answered, keeping her head down. She felt unbearably guilty lying to Anne – surely “liar, liar, pants on fire” wasn’t a trait she would be pleased about in her son’s partner – but it was easier to lie than to admit she loathed Gemma and couldn’t stand to be around her a second more than necessary.

“I’m glad,” Anne replied, reaching across Olivia’s seat to ruffle Harry’s hair before taking the seat across from Jeff and Glenne, leaving Gemma to sit in the seat just an arm’s length from Olivia. The only good thing about Gemma’s close proximity was the lack of eye contact it allowed.

Olivia hardly paid attention to the flight attendant as she talked to the passengers, going through a condensed version of the standard safety speech. She suddenly realised she was facing backwards, and would feel as though she was falling forwards as the plane was taking off.

“Ouch… you okay?” Harry whispered to Olivia as she tightened her grip on his hand. Olivia nodded rapidly, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She knew everyone knew the story of how she met Harry – he loved telling the story – but it didn’t mean she wanted anyone to see a repeat of that flight.

Harry rubbed Olivia’s hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he cooed lovingly to her. “I’m right beside you if you need to throw up on me.”

“You’re not funny,” Olivia told him through gritted teeth as the plane began to taxi. She kept her grip tight on Harry’s hand, not caring if she hindered his ability to play guitar, and kept her eyes closed.

“I’m a little funny,” Harry argued lightly, but Olivia was too focused on keeping her cool to answer him. She kept reminding herself to choose a different seat on the way home as the plane crept towards cruising altitude. She also found herself wondering if there was another way to London that didn’t involve flying – or boating, as she’d seen Titanic too many times, and the ocean was a terrifying enigma on earth.

Finally, the plane began to level out and the sole flight attendant – a middle-aged woman who seemed to know Jeff, Glenne and Harry personally – approached them and began asking if they wanted drinks.

Harry laughed. “This one does,” he answered, nudging Olivia playfully as he massaged his crushed hand. “What’s that wine you like called?” he wondered. “Salmon… something?”

Despite feeling slightly woozy, Olivia let out a loud chuckle. “Salmon?” she retorted, shaking her head at Harry. He was so adorably dumb. “Sauvignon Blanc,” she corrected, looking at the stewardess, who shared Olivia’s sentiments and laughed.

“Sounds a bit better than salmon wine,” she agreed teasingly. “And some snacks?” she offered. Olivia confirmed with a nod, knowing a handful of saltines would ease her stomach. After which, the wine would be hugely appreciated.

~*~*~*~

“This is ridiculous!” Gemma grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest in a huff. “I don’t have enough money to pay stupid rent to her!” She looked up from the Monopoly board, shooting a glare in Olivia’s direction, as though she had power over the roll of the dice.

“You have to mortgage something then,” Glenne reminded Gemma, taking a sip of her drink before carefully straightening out her massive pile of bills.

“I know the fucking rules, Glenne!” Gemma snapped, letting out a loud sigh. “Fuck, this sucks!” she complained, angrily flipping through her property cards.

Anne frowned. “Gemma, enough with the language,” she told her daughter. “We are trying to have a fun game here, but if you’re just going to throw a tantrum every time you have to pay someone rent, then you don’t have to play.”

“I can’t anymore, anyway!” Gemma screeched, grabbing the few houses she had on the board and tossing them towards the game box.

Olivia refrained from sighing, but it was difficult not to. Not long into the flight, Jeff had pulled Harry away from the table, telling everyone else there was business to discuss. Olivia didn’t think it was imperative to discuss at that moment, but she bit her tongue. Glenne had suggested the girls play Monopoly, which had turned into the worst idea of the century. First, Gemma was angry that Olivia took the iron token, baffling Olivia – no one ever wanted the iron. Then, because the Patron Saints of Monopoly wanted to have a little fun at Olivia’s expense, Gemma landed on one of Olivia’s properties with nearly every roll, unless she was going to Jail, which also happened frequently. Gemma was not having a good game of Monopoly, but rather than being mature and shrugging it off, she vehemently blamed Olivia for her game demise.

“You know what… why don’t we just pretend I missed this one?” Olivia suggested, the thought of not getting the rent on a hoteled Pacific Avenue almost killing her. But she’d promised Harry she would be the bigger person. She was still winning with or without Gemma’s rent, anyway.

Gemma frowned at Olivia. “I don’t need your pity,” she spat out, shoving her remaining bills in Olivia’s direction before standing up and stalking towards the bathroom.

“It’s just a game…” Olivia called out after her, though against her better judgment. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was how she acted when she lost a board game. She would seriously have to check herself if it was.

“Well!” Anne commented after a moment, attempting to lighten to mood. “I’m sorry about Gemma, but… shall we continue?”

The three women continued the game, though lackluster at best. Olivia just wanted it to be over, and she almost suggested it a couple of times. She needed to talk to Harry – clearly he hadn’t done his part and talked to his sister, and if he had, he needed to do it again. Olivia knew she wasn’t going to put up with Gemma’s surely attitude for much longer, but making a scene would be worse than dealing with Gemma’s attitude.

Just when it seemed as though the game would never end, and the boys would never finish talking business, Glenne built hotels on Park Place and Boardwalk, easily calling the game, and the boys put their work hats away and rejoined the girls.

“Where’s Gem?” was the first thing Harry asked. “Heard her screeching like a pterodactyl. She lost the game, I reckon?”

Olivia met Harry’s eyes, her lips pursed together. “The Monopoly gods weren’t exactly on her side…” she told him, silently telling him to find his sister – who, no doubt, was now sprawled out on the private sofa that was supposed to be Harry and Olivia’s making out spot – and give her a serious tongue lashing.

Harry glanced towards the closed door before looking back at Olivia. His forehead was creased – clearly he didn’t want to confront his sister, but when Olivia raised an eyebrow at him, his head drooped slightly as he nodded.

“I’ll go see if she’s done being a baby about it,” he finally said, stepping towards the door. He tapped lightly before pushing the door open and disappearing behind it. The click of the latch ensured his conversation with his sister would unfortunately remain private.

Jeff reached into the overhead compartment, pulling out his laptop bag. “Want to watch that movie now?” he asked Glenne. “Game’s over?”

Glenne nodded, standing up. “Let me just help clean up,” she told Jeff, grabbing a handful of Chance cards.

“I can do it,” Olivia assured her. Glenne was lovely, but she didn’t insist upon organization while cleaning up the board game like Olivia did. It would be easier without her help.

Glenne smiled. “Okay, thanks,” she answered, seeming relieved that she didn’t have to spend time tidying up. She followed Jeff closer to the front of the plane, leaving Olivia and Anne alone.

Olivia bit her lip, concentrating on rearranging the Monopoly money into proper stacks. She kept her head down, hoping Anne wouldn’t want to discuss Gemma’s behaviour. It was one thing for Olivia to call Gemma a bitch in front of Harry, but she couldn’t say the same in front of Anne, and she worried she would be powerless to stop the words from coming out.

“Well… the game looked like yours for a while there,” Anne remarked, picking up the car piece and absentmindedly rolling it between her fingers.

Olivia smirked, tapping a stack of bills against the table. “Yeah, it was close,” she agreed, refraining from pointing out that if Gemma hadn’t thrown a fit and properly paid Olivia, she might have been able to win the game.

Anne smiled, her mouth making the same opened and closed movements as Harry’s did when he wanted to say something and couldn’t find the words. “Olivia, I… I know Gemma is being very difficult right now…” she began. “I don’t want to make excuses for her, because her behaviour is far from acceptable, but…” Anne let out a quiet sigh, running the car token along the top of the table.

Olivia dismissed Anne’s comment with a wave of her hand. “Oh, it’s fine,” she lied, wrapping an elastic band around the stack of Monopoly money. It was far from fine, but that was something Olivia would tell Harry, not Anne. “I’m a teacher, I’m used to people not liking me,” Olivia reminded Anne, letting out a quiet laugh in hopes of cutting through the tension.

“It’s not fine,” Anne disagreed. “You’ve done nothing but be a kind, caring, lovely woman… and I know Harry is completely besotted with you,” she added with a reassuring smile. “And you with him… right?”

Olivia looked up at Anne, taken aback by her question. “Of course I am,” she answered, her brow furrowed with confusion. Gemma didn’t believe Olivia when she said she loved Harry, but she thought Anne did. “He’s… the absolute love of my life,” Olivia told Anne, wondering if her words – while entirely truthful – came off as sincere.

Anne smiled, her relief apparent on her face. “I’m so happy to hear that,” she told Olivia, reaching out and touching her hand. “Gemma… she will warm up. I promise. She’s just seen Harry go through a lot with women, and she’s fiercely protective. I know it’s not fair, and it’s not an excuse… But… I promise she will come around.”

Olivia nodded, suppressing a sigh. If Anne didn’t think “she’s protective” was an excuse, Olivia wondered what an excuse looked like in Anne’s books. She wanted to slam her fist against the table and shout at Anne that her daughter was just a bitch, not protective, but she refrained – she was becoming awfully good at stifling her emotions, and while it might seem like a good thing, Olivia wasn’t entirely convinced.

~*~*~*~

After what seemed like hours, the door to the back cabin finally opened and a sour-faced Gemma stepped out, completely avoiding Olivia’s eyes. Olivia watched her carefully, almost challenging the girl to look at her and say something, anything. But Gemma expertly kept her head away from Olivia, rooting though her bag for a book, her iPod and headphones – the ultimate trifecta for ignoring someone.

Olivia stood up, darting into the back cabin before Jeff could drum up more business to discuss, and locked the door behind her. Harry was sprawled out on the couch, elevating his injured leg. He flashed Olivia a dimpled grin as she closed the door.

“I was going to shout like a brat for you,” he teased, pulling himself into a seated position.

Olivia rolled her eyes at Harry before settling behind him on the sofa. She stretched her leg out against the back of the couch and wrapped her arms around Harry, letting him lean back against her chest. She loved feeling his weight against her. “Now, now… I think there’s only room for one brat in your family…” Olivia answered, gently running her hands through Harry’s hair.

He sighed with contentment at her touch. “Mm-hmm…” he hummed distractedly. “You give the best head massage, love. Both heads,” he added cheekily, reaching over his shoulder to grab Olivia’s breast.

“Yeah, yeah… I know…” Olivia replied, elbowing his hand away. “So… did you talk to your sister?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Harry sighed again, letting his head fall heavier against Olivia’s chest. “Ahh… she’s right pissed at me now, says I’m taking your side.”

The way it should be, Olivia thought. “There wouldn’t be a side to pick if she could just grow up and act like an adult,” Olivia pointed out instead.

“That’s what I said.”

Olivia huffed out a breath. “So, is she going to grow up, or do I get to continue to be her punching bag?” she asked. “Because, Harry, I really don’t want to keep biting my tongue while she slings mud at me. And you know I have a really tough time keeping my mouth shut, anyway.”

Harry scoffed. “Don’t I know it,” he answered in agreement. “She’s going to come around. Said you’ve got to prove yourself to her first,” he added, his lashes fluttering as he rolled his eyes.

“Prove myself to her?” Olivia retorted angrily. “Prove that I’m a fucking human being who deserves to get treated with common respect? Prove that she’s full of shit and I’m actually not looking to fuck you over? How the hell am I supposed to do that?” She huffed out another sigh, her fingers pressing harder into Harry’s scalp with frustration.

“Ouch, hon. Hey!” Harry shook his head from Olivia’s grasp before rolling onto his stomach.

“Sorry,” Olivia said, brushing a lock of Harry’s hair from his forehead. She stared into his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh. Her love for him was scarily overpowering, and she couldn’t imagine not looking into his bright green eyes every day for the rest of her life. And while she knew she wouldn’t let any outside influence dictate their relationship, Olivia couldn’t be entirely certain Harry wouldn’t.

“What?” Harry asked her, resting his chin in his hands as he looked at Olivia inquisitively.

She didn’t want to ask the question, but she had to know the answer. “Are you going to let her change your mind?” Olivia asked hesitantly, her gaze dropping. She hoped she already knew the answer, but the bond between Gemma and Harry was intense, and Olivia knew he valued his sister’s opinion on almost everything.

Harry was quiet for a second or two before letting out an uproarious chuckle. Olivia’s head snapped up as he continued to laugh, as though she’d just told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. His eyes squeezed shut as he cackled his adorable, high-pitched giggle. He wrapped his arms around Olivia’s waist, pulling her into a more reclined position.

“Change my mind? About you?” Harry asked, laughing incredulously. “Oh, hon…” He snickered again, stretching his body across hers and pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. “You’re such a dope,” he said endearingly. “You really think my idiot sister would be able to convince me to not be with you?”

Olivia shrugged, a sense of relief coursing through her. “I mean… I don’t know… that’s why I asked…” she explained, feeling silly. “You’re so close with her, and…”

“Oh, fuck off with that,” Harry instructed. “You know no one could ever change my mind about you, least of all my dumbass sister. She’s a pain in the ass, but she’ll get the fuck over it because I told her you’re not going anywhere. And you’re not. And I’m not,” he reminded her.

Olivia nodded. Maybe she did know. “I’m not,” she promised him. She closed her eyes as Harry kissed her forehead again. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to fucking prove it to her. Who does she think she is, fucking President Snow?” Olivia asked rhetorically.

“I don’t know who that is,” Harry replied. Olivia knew he did – they had a Hunger Games marathon not long after she’d arrived in LA, though they were both preoccupied. “But I do have a great idea about how you can start to win her over.”

“How?” Olivia asked curiously. Harry’s self-proclaimed great ideas were more often than not, not, but seeing as how she was desperate for an alliance with Gemma, she would be open to most ideas Harry could dream up.

“Well… I sort of bribed her… with a credit card and a shopping trip,” Harry told Olivia, his index finger lightly tracing along her cheekbone. “She said she didn’t have anything to wear to the premiere. And…” Harry continued, a cheeky smirk forming on his face. “I know you said you didn’t have anything either, so…” He grinned at Olivia, her stomach sinking as she knew what he was about to say.

“You’re going to go with her!”

Notes