The Choreographer

13: The 'L' Word

"Harry?" I call out. He told me that if I didn't stop painting my nails he was going to hide and scare me. If we were at my apartment I wouldn't be worried, but we're at Harry's house, and it's so much larger than mine. I regret finishing my nails with a top coat. "Harry?" I call again, then stomp my foot in frustration. "Seriously this isn't funny!" I search the upstairs hoping to find him before he finds me. I walks softly down the stairs and peek over the staircase. "Harry...stop...I give up! You're making me nervous!" I whine, knowing that this was his plan. I walk around the downstairs, my fear of being scared scaring me.

I search the living room and then the kitchen. I peek in his living room. I search behind his couch. I look in his lower level bathroom. "Harry?" I call out, like he's actually going to answer me.

I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I've gained six pounds in the last month. Harry assures me that I look "so wonderfultastically beautiful." I sigh and continue looking for him.

He finds me, and I scream bloody murder when he pulls me into the dark hall closet.

"Shh! Isabel!" Harry says while laughing. I can't see him in the blackness of the closet but I can feel his hands on my waist.

"You...scared...me...so...bad." I tell him while taking deep breaths, trying to control my heart rate.

"Maybe next time you'll stop painting your stupid nails." He teases. I reach out to hit him but he grabs my hand.

"I can't see." I complain.

"Your eyes will adjust." He says simply.

"I don't plan on being in here that long."

"To bad. You're my prisoner." He leans in and whispers in my ear. "Be afraid."

"My bunny slippers just ran for cover." I whisper back. My eyes adjusting slightly so I can see the outline of his face. He chuckles softly and presses his lips to mine. I pull away. "No way, you don't get kisses, you made me almost pee myself and are holding me captive. I don't think so." I wag my finger in his face and he lightly swats it away.

"Hey!" He complains "I'm the captor, you have to do what I say." He mock pouts.

"We have a dysfunctional relationship." I explain to him.

"No." He responds squishing me against the wall and tickling me.

"Yes!" I scream laughing. "Harry!" I try to squirm away but bump into the coats. I can't stop laughing. "Stop! Please! I'll do anything!"

He stops "anything?" I don't have to look to know there's a glint in his eyes.

"Maybe."

He pokes me in the side causing me to giggle. "Yes or no?"

"Yes! Okay!" I agree. I catch my breath and Harry is quiet for a moment.

Finally, he opens the closet door and I blink at the bright light. He walks out and I follow him, anxiously wondering what anything is.

"Do you want to get lunch?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, do I have to pay?" I wonder if this is anything.

"Nope." He grabs his jacket.

"Oh." I grab my jacket. And look at him. What is this anything going to be?

****

"What's anything?" I ask him that evening, sitting on his bed.

"What?" Harry asks from the bathroom attached to his room.

"What's the anything I promised to do?" I ask hesitantly.