Peach // H.S.

Eleven.

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As soon as Tawny received your payphone call about a much-needed Harry makeover, she claimed that the both of you needed to be at her house in no more than ten minutes.

You got there in nine, thanks to Harry's inability to listen to your directions due to his aggressive self-confidence. He claims he knows his way around town, which is clearly a false statement, but you're not going to try to knock him off of his high horse. God, that'd be a nightmare to deal with. He was fussy the entire breakfast after you managed to get him to agree to visit Tawny before your own mother, claiming that if you really liked him, you wouldn't have him change. It was humorous, really, because it wasn't about you and how you felt about him, but rather about your mother and her own beliefs. You tried your best to explain it to him, thumb grazing over his knuckles as he sucked down his shake in less than four minutes due to the fact that he kept himself quiet during your little monologue by never letting his lips leave the straw, but it was clear that it was going in one ear and out the other.

He's not good at hiding the fact that he's not listening, especially 'cause sometimes he'll adopt a blank stare. It's hilarious, adorable too, but still frustrating.

There's a violent knot of worry growing angry deep in the pit of your stomach, nipping at you nastily with each new anxious thought swirling around your already obsessive brain, but you try your best to ignore it by humming a combination of random songs to yourself. The thought of your mother rejecting Harry completely is so prevalent that you could swear it's happening at this very moment, it's like you're imagining being plopped down on the edge of Tawny's bed. If your mom won't have anything nice to say about Harry, it'll be even worse coming from your father. You can only pray that some makeup, hair gel, and a fake job can convince your mother to at least tolerate him.

"Mari, would you shut up? I'm trying to plan this, and you're over there buzzing like a busy bee. I know Harry wasn't listening, but you, too? Am I talking to the wall here?"

Tawny snaps, giving a light smack to your shoulder with a frustrated huff. You overreact to the blow, whining dramatically with a pained expression painted across your face. She shoots you a telling glare, and you shrug it off as Tawny wanting to be in charge of everything, but what's new? If she's not the leader, she'll make herself the leader. It's that simple.

Harry's sat on the shaggy carpet between your legs, back facing you, as you run your fingers through his messy mop of hair. He hums when you lower your nails and drag them gently, tipping his head back with a content smile, which you entertain with a quick peck to his forehead.

"You two make me sick. You've just met, and you're already acting like you've been married for years, good lord! Wish Alex would be like that with me, I won't lie."

"Tough luck, buttercup. Guess you'll just have to try harder at nailing him down. Maybe he just doesn't fancy you like that. Ever weigh that option?"

Harry snips, cackling at his poorly executed jab before hissing at a rough tug of his hair.

"Harry! You're too rude. That's enough from you. Tawny's sweet enough to lend you her own makeup, and this is how you act?"

"Mmph, my bad! I just want to remind you both that this wasn't my idea. I'm fine the way I am."

As much as you'd love to agree with Harry, he is in fact perfect to you, you've got to keep in mind what your mother would think. You're not positive what exactly Tawny has in mind for this makeover, but you're putting all your trust in her. She's bent over and rummaging through a bin of beauty products — concealers, lipsticks, and an unbelievable amount of hair products. She pauses with a tin in her hands, narrowing her eyes as she lifts it closer to her face to read over the small font on the backside of it.