High Noon [H.S]

three's a crowd

Not even five minutes after posting my newest Instagram photo, my phone is vibrating against the sheets of my bed where I had aimlessly thrown it earlier, waiting for the call I knew would eventually come.

Harry's name flashes across the screen as I answer the call, pressing the device between my ear and shoulder as I continue to fill my bag with unlimited supplies and unlimited snacks— both absolutely essential for our newest Astronomy project we had on the agenda for tonight.

We were going back to Digger's Forest to document a supposed meteor shower that was, according to Professor Wayne, going to be seen all across London in the early hours of the morning. Even though I was skeptical, I knew that no after midnight assignment could be done without the fuel of caffeine.

I forgo a typical greeting and ignore the reason I knew he was calling in the first place as I shuffle through the hangers in my closet absentmindedly. "Do you think I'm going to need a jacket tonight? The forecast doesn't look too bad, but you never know, right?"

He avoids my question all together.

"Where is she?" Harry asks with mock panic.

I can hear sounds of scuffed footsteps and wind whipping in the background and I grin to myself, knowing my plan had worked. Putty in my hands.

"Where is who?" I ask, innocently, slipping on an oversized sweater atop Harry's shirt I was holding hostage.

Harry scoffs, playing along. "Oh, don't play coy with me, Shirt Thief." The sounds of his door opening and slamming and the car ignition starting muffles in the background. I picture him picking out the perfect playlist for a Saving His Favourite Shirt Mission before speeding off into the night. "Name your price."

"I named it already. Coffee within the hour." I tie my hair up, deciding to test my power. "Actually, throw in a stop for some candy corn while you're at it and I'll make out with you."

"Candy corn?" There's a beat of silence and for a split moment Harry breaks character. I can envision the exact look of disgust on his face that I knew he was wearing. "What about sour skittles or gummy worms? Aren't those your go-to project snacks?"

I eye the overstuffed rudsack on my desk chair in front of me, the overflowing bags of candy and chocolate looking back at me.

"I already packed both of those."

"Both?" He asks, bewildered, like he didn't already know me by now. I refrain from telling him I've also packed a carton of milk duds and the Haribo I know he likes. "And you still want me to get you bloody candy corn of all things?"

I raise a brow. "Is that a problem?"

"No problem other than the fact that the cashier is going to think I'm willingly buying the worlds worst candy for myself." Harry's words are laced with heavy sarcasm and I picture the wild grin he's probably sporting as he drives down the road through the late autumn breeze. "Don't know if the prize is worth all that shame and embarrassment to be fair."