8: An Intro to Kennedy's Head

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When do you think Harry will resurface in Kennedy's life though, and how?

Ps: Vid above shows how wild the Walsh siblings are together, especially these two lol it's definitely challenging to put that chaotic energy into words.

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We decide to go home to our house in Maryland on Wednesday afternoon instead of driving all the way back to Brandon and I's apartment in Florida. We then drop by the vet to check on Salem. The moment we walk through the doors, I spot her—immediately, she gets up and mews endlessly, stretching in a way that lets me know she wants her back scratched.

The doctor filled us in on Salem's behavior while I held her in my arms. She purrs and relaxes into me, a telling sign of forgiveness for the lost hours. Relief floods through me at knowing she's fine.

Although I try to push the feeling back, a tiny, tiny bit of regret sits inside me, having not finished the show. The regret becomes heavier as I put more thought into it. That had probably been the one and only time I could get to see Harry and I blew it.

"That means we could take her home now, right?" Mom asks, bringing a piece of cat food to Salem's mouth. She takes it and swallows.

He smiles. "We'd normally keep her for another night for observation, but seeing her response to your presence, I can say she'll be just fine."

He says some things more to Mom but I decide to tune them out. The vibrations and pings from my phone had died down since I'd turned the notifications off on the drive back. The only ones I get now are from my close friends and mutuals.

The reminder of the attention that barreled my way during the show makes me wince involuntarily. I had fun, don't get me wrong, more fun than I'd ever had the past year, but being under the spotlight had never appealed to me. Finding myself under the scrutiny of hundreds of thousands of girls is something I didn't sign up for when I attended that show. I try to convince myself to look at it in a logical way, to trying to chalk it up to happenstance—had it been any other girl on her phone and not my mom, the night may have ended differently. A different girl may have been the subject of Harry's antics, a different girl may have fainted or trended on Twitter for that matter.

It was a case of being the right person at the right time, I tell myself. It's nothing more than just a coincidence.

My phone beeps. It's a tweet from Harry, a candid picture of him in his dressing room, his phone to his ear, and a woman blow-drying his hair. It was captioned "NEW YORK July 7 2020," I tap the like button and scroll through the app, watching videos of our exchange filmed from multiple angles. I watched and bookmarked every single one, focusing on Harry and I's facial expressions.

A strange flutter fills my stomach. I looked like a big idiot with a massive crush on an even bigger idiot who kept picking on me. He looked like he was having fun, this wide and genuine smile plastered on his face all throughout before I got whisked into the private room. It was a bit weird having to watch myself on a screen—way different from editing and re-watching my Youtube videos. This one seems raw, I looked (and felt) completely caught off-guard, and Harry obviously enjoyed every second of me getting flustered.

When it got to the part where I shot back that bit about a potential husband, I watch as they zoom in on his reaction. A couple of background noises cut through the audio, from the girls filming, as they guffawed and cheered with the rest of the crowd. The most prominent ones being, "Oh you go, sista!" and "He's so fuckin' cute!"

I laugh and shake my head, remembering Harry using the same term—sista—in some of his shows and appearances. It was strangely endearing.

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