LISTEN {H.S.} A.U.

Adore You (Pt. 1)

"I think the red sweater was the best choice." Sylvia says as we finally arrive at the house. I try to think of all the things she bought today. It was as if the world was opening its arms to Sylvia today, and Sylvia waltzed right in the arms of shopping glory.

I took her to this place I saved in my notes while scrolling through the internet. It was this place that the more elderly demographic usually shop in and I found it charming; hence why I saved it. Sylvia thought my idea to go there was tacky but here she is, devouring every article she bought.

"The one with the lace stitching, and embroidered elbows?" Yes you heard that correctly. I said embroidered elbows. Once she came out the dressing room, it was a wrap. She wanted one in every color. You can take the business casual out of the girl, but you can't take the girl away from the business casual.

"Yes, that one. It also looked peng as hell in the royal blue color. Yeah?" She beams in excitement, and I laugh as we enter the house. All I hear is soft talking. Harry.

I tried not to think about our conversation while I was with Sylvia, but it gnawed at me. Couldn't give me a break, especially when I was in my fucking element. Very relentless, and here I am pounding away at the mere sight of a certain man. Fuck men, honestly. Why do I have to be attracted to such a man. It is gnawing at me.

"Very peng, darling. Very." I do an elderly accent, and Sylvia just laughs. I set the bags down on the side where the staircase starts. I follow behind Sylvia, and my heart thumps.

Harry stands there leaning on the counter. His hair is all disheveled and in random places, while he played with his lips with his index and thumb. His lips sandwiched between both as he focuses on whoever is speaking to him.

When he notices that we walked in, he says something in the phone and hangs up. Everyone is so weird here in London. Is being coy and secretive a British thing? No wonder America wanted their freedom from them. That's sugarcoating it of course; not a history buff, whatsoever.

"How was shopping?" Harry asks but I try to signal him to not finish his sentences. Before I can even breathe in Sylvia is already at it.

"You HAVE to check out this place that Mari took me. I bought the most cutest pack of sweaters." Sylvia claps her hands and runs out of the kitchen. Harry turns to me with a look of bewilderment.

"I would have thought that it was the other way around. You showing Mari something." Harry refocuses on his cousin who walks in with the two bags filled with the multi coloured elbow sweater. Sylvia starts to pull them out and throws some at Harry.

"Innit cute?" She presses the sweater against her, obviously the red one. Harry nods as he looks at the sweater. He doesn't like it. Harry stares at the sweater, and then looks at me as he scrunches his nose in disgust. I stifle a quick laugh before Sylvia sways at me with all her sweaters.

"Cute, maybe you can have one for each day of the week." I lean on the counter. That's when I lose it, because just as I said this I make eye contact with Harry.

"Its not funny, hey, quit laughing." Sylvia swings a sweater at me, and I let her hit me. My comment clearly made both, Harry and I's absolute distaste for the sweater abundantly clear.

"Red can be for Mondays because red, anger, and Monday, bad." Harry plucks the sweater as he laughs. The way he said the sentence makes me laugh a bit harder. I look at Sylvia who is standing there waiting for us to finish. She would make a wonderful middle school teacher. Might fulfil her desire to boss everyone around.

"You lot can go fuck yourselves. Yeah? How about that. Rude." Her accent comes off a bit stronger, which makes me cross my legs from the pressure in my stomach from the laughter. I bow my head down as I try to hold in the piss that will sprinkle out of me if Sylvia keeps laughing.