Lights (2013)

48

The next morning I wake up with Harry laying almost entirely on me, his head on my chest. I try to move out from under him, but he groans and wraps his arms around me tighter. I roll my eyes.

"Harry," I say in his ear. He doesn't move.

I sigh.

"Harold," I say louder. He jolts up, glaring at me.

"What?" He snaps, looking up at me. His voice is raspier than usual from sleep.

I giggle. "You're laying on me."

He looks down. "Oh." He shifts off of me, onto his side. "That's still not a reason to call me Harold."

I shrug and get out of bed, tying my hair up into a ponytail. "It's eight," I say. "Why don't we make breakfast for your mum since she made us dinner last night?"

Harry groans and gets out of bed, sliding a black t-shirt on. "But that's so much work."

"Fine. You can watch, then." I turn and walk out of the bedroom, a smirk making its way across my face. Harry jogs to catch up with me, still sleepy. He rubs his eyes and yawns.

I open the fridge once we get to the kitchen, pulling out pancake mix and milk. Harry leans against the counter lazily.

"Don't even try," he says as I grab a skillet from a drawer and put it on the stovetop.

"What?"

"You'll never make pancakes as good as IHOP."

I snort. "I can try," I tease, pouring some pancake batter onto the skillet. I grab some blueberries from the fridge and sprinkle them in the batter.

Harry watches me as I cook. I try not to mess up as I flip a pancake. It lands on its side, folding over. I curse and throw it out. Harry smirks.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I finally snap.

"Like what?"

"Like me making pancakes is a joke."

"It is, if you've tasted IHOP."

"Alright maestro, you give it a shot then." I cross my arms over my chest.

"Maestro?" He smirks again as I move aside and he takes the handle of the skillet in his hand. He expertly flips it in the air, and it lands almost perfectly. I stare at him.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I ask him.

"The IHOP gods have contacted me. Apparently I'm the chosen one."

I laugh. "You wish."

"No, really. They came to me in my dreams last night." He flips another one, then slides it onto a plate. "For you," he says, garnishing it with a blueberry. He winks at me.

"I'm flattered," I say, putting a hand on my chest.

"You should be," he says, pouring more batter into the pan. "Because I'm the chosen one."

I laugh as I cut into the pancake, trying a bite. Harry looks at me expectantly.

"Well?" He asks.

"Looks like IHOP may have some competition."

Harry laughs. "I told you," he says, flipping another one.

"If only you could learn what a spatula is."

"You'll never let that go, will you?"

"Nope." I take another bite of pancake.