Coalescence ➳ H.S.

Eight: Impressions

Harry's POV

It wasn't the first time I had been caught off-guard kissing a girl.

I distinctly remember a time in university, in my American Politics class, when the young, seventeen year old version of myself fell head over heels for a young woman by the name of Selina Price. She was in her twenties, I believe. Her hair was raven black and extremely curly, and her eyebrows framed her face very well despite how thick they were. She wore tortoiseshell spectacles, which paired nicely with the plum lip stain she donned every day. Selina had a reputation for wearing short skirts, which, as a hormonally rampant teenage boy, was very thrilling indeed.

My dorm-mate caught me making out with her in our room after a heated debate topic which I had rebutted her ineffectively (we argued the effectiveness of the death penalty and I was on the side opposing it; either way, I was beyond excited—we very nearly took off our clothes) and kindly told her on my behalf that I wasn't legal yet. That ended awkwardly.

Today I was caught off-guard by a three year old sticking her little fingers out the window and pointing at Sperling and me. What had my criminal life come to? What was next? Torturing my foes with apple juice? Knocking people out with toy guns? It really was a shame on my end.

"Momma, Aunty Clare has a boyfriend? Grandpa, look, Aunty Clare has a boyfriend!" she squealed excitedly, nearly falling out the window to get a better look at the two of us. Sperling pulled away from me, quickly clearing her throat and wiping my saliva off her lips with the back of her hand before racing over to ensure the little girl didn't topple onto the concrete while the car was still moving. I saw the looks on the faces of the rest of the people in the car; the older man looked horribly confused (perhaps even disgusted), the brunette woman had her jaw dropped in shock, and the red haired woman clapped her hands and roared with laughter. Their SUV came to a stop at the curb by Sperling's mailbox and the little girl sprinted out from the car.

"Hi, Aunty Clare!" she chirped, jumping into Sperling's arms with a wide smile on her face. She looked strikingly similar to the red haired woman whom I assumed to be her mother.

"Hey, Mabel, hey," Sperling greeted, picking her up and looking back at me with an air of uncertainty. I could tell that the same thing was running through my mind as her: how in the world were we going to pull this one off? The rest of the people came clambering out of the car with very different reactions.

"Clarine Yvonne Sperling, I can not believe that you would keep some...some boy away from your own father!"

"Dad, hush. Clarine's allowed to date; she's got a place to live and a job," implored the red haired woman towards the older man before turning to Sperling and lowering her voice. "Clarine, please tell me he isn't like Andy. God, remember that thing he used to do with his chopsticks? Uncultured swine."

"Dad, Hyacinth, really, it's nothing," Sperling tried to explain before getting cut off by the brunette woman.

"Clarine, he's so good looking! You know what they say about tall guys, right? They've got big di—"

"Child! I have a child!" Sperling interrupted her innuendo, pointing at Mabel and glaring at all of them. In turn, they all looked at me; I was sure I looked like a deer in the headlights. Without a clue of what to do next, I raised my hand and waved. Sperling turned to face me and took a deep breath in. "Everybody, this is...Trevor, my...boyfriend?"

She hesitated. She was uncomfortable with lying. Jesus fucking Christ, this was going to difficult. I stepped forward to join her.

"Trevor, this is my dad, Quentin,"—I shook his hand; he didn't look very thrilled and nearly crushed my fingers with his grip—"my sister, Hyacinth,"—I shook the red haired woman's hand, and she willingly shook mine as she bowed her head at me—"and her wife, Alexa."