oh, anna [-hs]

guts

a/n fucking hell here we go everybody. buckle up.


55.

I decide the best course of action will be for me to sleep on the bus ride there.

That way I can't panic. I don't want to work myself up. And I just know I will.

It took a minute for Harry to coax me onto the bus. And he was smart about holding my hand. He had a deathgrip on me until the vehicle pulled out onto the freeway. Then he relaxed, a small smile tracing the edges of his lips. I just know he's proud of himself. He thinks he's wormed his way into my life. Done something I've never done with anyone else. The fucker.

I kind of want to punch the smile off his face. My heart is beating like a drum and we're not even in Wisconsin yet.

So I try my best to fall asleep. I prop my cheek up against the freezing window and cross my arms. The cold surface immediately adheres to my skin. I ignore the discomfort and shut my eyes tight, willing myself to drift off as quickly as possible. Thankfully, I do. The weightless rocking of the bus leads to a weird, light sleep. I think I'm dreaming about driving, or maybe I'm in some weird limbo of lucid dreams.

I come to when Harry gently shakes my shoulder. I blink and peek out the big bus window. The world is white, frosted and iced to perfection. Across the street is a Dairy Queen. It's dark, very dark. The orange glow from the ice cream shop hits the bus window in a kaleidoscope of reflections.

"Good morning," he jokes beside me. I smile sleepily and sit up, moving with him to climb out of our bus seats.

"Where are we?"

"Duluth."

My heart falls to my stomach. I bite the inside of my cheek and wrap my coat tighter around my torso. We pull down our luggage and step off the bus into the icy bank of snow. "It was seven hours by the way."

I look up at him. "What?"

"You said it was ten. It was seven."

I blink and glance at the Dairy Queen across the street. "I see."

"I think we should rent a car from here. We still have about an hour and a half."

"Okay," I sit on top of my suitcase and push myself back and forth with my toe. He squints at his phone for a minute and then picks a direction to walk. I leap off the luggage and jog after him.

"Do you want to call your parents? Tell them we're coming?"

I didn't even think about that. I'm about to show up out of the blue, after six years, with a boyfriend. What the fuck are we doing. "Yeah probably," I mumble numbly, fishing for my own phone.

I call them from the car rental building. It rings for an eternity. I realize I'm calling them just after dinner time. Something they hate. When I was younger, they'd always let the phone ring until it died. That was family time, solicitors should know that. I beg them to pick up now.

"Hello?"

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Fuck.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi, Dad." I swallow dryly and curl deeper into the plastic chair screwed onto the wall.

There's a chilling silence. Neither of us know what to say. Harry comes back from the desk with a set of keys and a stack of papers. He raises his eyebrows curiously at me, standing before the chair.

"Quentin."

"Yeah."

"What happened? Are you okay?" He finally manages.