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Dating Harry was better than I ever could’ve imagined.
At first, I’d been afraid merging our schedules would be near impossible, but I wouldn’t let my parents dictate my life. Granted, I definitely would not confront them about anything. Not yet. Instead, when Mom told me my volunteering schedule, I’d call the day of to cancel everything I could. “Sorry, I can’t walk your dog, Mrs. Miller. Something came up.” “Maybe next week I can run your car through the wash, Mrs. Robertson.” “Is there anyone else who can deliver your dry cleaning, Mr. Talbot?”
Each time I canceled and took back my own time, the exhilarating sense of freedom spiked like an endorphin rush.
And I spent that newfound free time with Harry. Most nights we met at Le Petit Bateau and delivered for Dial and Dine. We’d alternate who would run food to the door, making a game of who got the friendlier customer. It was hard to tell who was “friendlier” in a three-second interaction, so we typically settled on a tie. But the winner got to pick where we’d have a snack to top the night off.
Everything was perfect.
Jamie never mentioned anything about seeing Harry that night in February, and after a while, the looming anxiety of him saying anything disappeared.
Time with him just flew by, and suddenly it was the last week of March. Mom started getting excited to hear about college acceptances, and the twins were eager for warmer weather so they could finally play outside again, whereas I was finally content with where I ended up.
Especially now.
“It’s not much,” Harry repeated for what felt like the billionth time, flipping on his blinker. The sound echoed loudly in his car. “It’sreallysmall. Nothing special.”
I laid my hand over his, which had been resting on the gearshift. “Stop,” I told him. “It’s small because it’s justyou. No annoying parents, no noisy siblings.”
“I guess.”
Even though his words were uncertain, excitement rippled through me. I finally got to see where he lived. He had a freedom that I always longed for, a freedom so tantalizing, and I wanted to see it all. There was something intimate about seeing where Harry lived. Something personal. We’d been covering the basics in the month since we’d become exclusive—favorite colors, embarrassing memories, biggest dreams—but there were other things we hadn’t talked about. Where he lived, past relationships.
Really,pastin general.
Aside from this car, I hadn’t seen anything that was totallyhim. It washishouse; he didn’t share it with anyone else.
Harry continued to follow the road as it wound around a few hills before finally turning into a driveway. I couldn’t help but gasp a little at the house that appeared in front of the windshield. “I know,” he hurried to say. “Like I said, not much.”
“Harry, it’s socute!”
And it was. The house, though small, wasbeautiful. The siding was a pristine white accented by black shutters on every visible window. The roof looked almost metal, and that, too, was black. A small porch sat in the front, stained a dark color, contrasting perfectly next to the white.
“I’ve been doing renovations since the end of last summer,” he said, pulling the key from the ignition. He sat back in his seat, gazing at the structure. “I’ve still got a few things to do, like landscaping, but I’ll worry about that later in the spring.”
I looked at him closely. “You’ve been doing the renovations yourself?”
“You know, what I can.WhenI can. I just refinished the bathroom, actually.” Harry shuffled the keys in his hand, jingling them loudly. He almost looked self-conscious. “Shall we go in?”
All too eagerly, I unlatched my buckle and hopped out of the car. The wind tugged my curls around, and I pushed them behind my ear. No Stella today, only Destelle.
Despite getting closer to Harry, it still felt strange being Destelle around him. Bit by bit, though, I’d been getting used to it.
And good gosh, it wassonice to not have to scramble to get dressed in order to hang out with him. Those tights were such a pain to rush into.
“When did you say you moved into this place?”
“August.” Harry squinted at the building. “I hired someone to redo the siding. Refinished the porch myself—thatwas a task and a half, especially all by myself in the heat.”
“You know, I’d never pictured you for the handy type.”
“I’m thebroketype,” he said with a laugh. “Can’t hire everything done.”
I couldn’t help but smile a little, taking the three steps onto the porch, admiring the handiwork. Harry moved in front of the black-painted door and stuck a key into the deadbolt, giving it a sharp twist.
“Remember, it’s—”
“Harry, I bet it’s amazing.” And with that, I reached past him and twisted the doorknob, shoving it inward.
