Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

10. Sunday Dinner

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"You were quick," I hear from the lounge room, and I'm thrilled to see Harry acquainted with Brooklyn, playing some random soccer game on PlayStation.

"So Harry, how much is Ava paying you to hang out with her?" Brooklyn asks Harry, while being his usual smart ass self. Congratulations Brooklyn, on being the most immature 22 year old I've ever come across.

"Piss off," I tell him.

"Language," I hear Mum call out warningly from the kitchen.

"Loads," Harry replies while sending a playful grin my way. "She's also promised me a dinner out of it too, which I've come to collect."

I throw a couple of of the couch cushions at the pair of them and offer to help Mum and Marnie with last minute preparation. I set some water, as well as a bottle of red and white and glasses out on the table, but am distracted in the sense that I can feel a pair of eyes focused solely on me. Looking up, I lock eyes with a desperate Marnie trying to make eye contact with me, and with fear of being overheard she mouths, "How?"

"Later," I reply back in hushed whispers, with a raise of the brow. "Not now."

Mum calls everyone to dinner and we all make our way over to the table. I sit in my usual spot and Harry looks a little lost as he decides on a place, before choosing opposite me, and besides Marnie. The look on her face pretty much says it all - she's on cloud nine, and who could blame her? He's easily one of her favourite people in the world, and he's sitting right beside her. It's like that game you would play in school where you would list people; living or dead, who you would like to attend a dinner party with. Funnily enough, Marnie has played, and she is currently winning at life.

My thoughts are shortly interrupted by the shuffling of a box, and my heart sinks.

"Phones," my mother requests, holding out the box for everyone to comply.

An age old rule that for Sunday dinner, we all place our phones in a box to ensure that we're all focused on each other, rather than our social media. Mum had enough of the lack of proper interaction and us kids responding with grunts in reply to her questions, that she decided to do something about it. I understand why she's done it, and I actually think it's a pretty good rule, but not tonight. Please, not tonight.

"Mum, no," I pipe up, eyes wide, hoping I can communicate telepathically with her.

Harry looks genuinely curious about what is going on, while Marnie nervously explains the concept and rules - unnecessarily adding on that I am known for losing.

"And loser does dishes," Brooklyn adds, looking straight at me. "Ava, you should probably get a start on them now, because we all know it's going to be you in there."

I quickly shoot him a scathing look.

"Don't worry Harry, you don't have to participate with these prehistoric rules," I offer.

"No, I want to. I like this idea," he says as he places his phone in the box, raising an eyebrow to me, in an almost daring manner.

"Phones," she demands again of me, and I begrudgingly place my phone in the box.

"Well I can tell you now, that I know I won't be doing dishes later," Harry challenges as he looks over at me.

Game on Styles.