The Choreographer

36: Sugar Plum

It's not over yet, I like writing it too much. I also found a picture of someone who I think actually looks like I picture Isabel. Anna Sophia Robb wasn't quite how I imagined her. Isabel is not based off a certain celebrities looks, so this is just someone who looks similar to how I pictured Isabel. Of course, now Isabel has brown hair, just use your imagination. :)

And a huge thank you to everyone who reads and votes, I love you, you're amazing. :)

"Wake up!" Harry starts jumping on my bed. "Wake up!"

"Go away..." I murmur swatting at the air with my arm.

"You have to get ready so we can make it to my parents house tonight!" He says, still jumping.

I groan, loudly, and sit up. "Don't talk to me until I say you can." I am not in a good mood. I've been feeling sick and I do not want it to be December twenty third and I do not want to go and see Harry's family for the second Christmas in a row.

"Someone is grumpy." He says, his tone patronizing.

I slam the door to the bathroom to prove my 'don't talk to me' point and start the shower. I look in the mirror. I blink at myself. Brown hair, falling halfway down my back, brown eyes. I still dance professionally and have been back in the studio. I decided to forgo The Nutcracker this year. I just didnt feel like the added stress of an actual production, especially during the holidays. I pull my leg up to my face and stretch. I need to calm myself. I need to be nice tonight. Social and charming. I sigh at the improbability of the occurance of me being either and step in the warm shower.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells..." I sing softly while shampooing my hair. I get soap in my eyes so I stop and make pitiful noises until the soap is out.

I hear Harry impatiently knock on the door. "Isabel, I need to pee!"

"I got shampoo in my eye!" I complain.

"I'm coming in now." He says and I hear the door open. The shower curtain is thick, so I can't see Harry. I just hear him shuffling around.

"You're so impatient." I shout over the water.

"You're so wasteful. All that water." He makes a scolding noise.

We're both quiet. I shave my legs. I know Harry is still in the bathroom, the door hasn't opened and shut and his feet havent made the floor creak.

I sigh as I finish the shower. I stand in the water, wondering if Harry was intentionally creating an awkward situation. I roll my eyes at him even though he can't see me. "Hand me my towel." I say.

I hear the linen closet door open and then a towel is thrown over the top of the shower. "Thank you." I say.

I take a breath, prepping myself for Harry and open the shower curtain. He's leaning back on the counter, his arms supporting himself. He's in a sleeveless shirt. His arms look basically amazing. He knows that I like his arms. My eyes flick up to his after I stare at his biceps for a moment.

"Hello." He says, a smug look on his face.

"Don't even play like that." I say opening that bathroom door.

He follows me out. "Play like what?"

I turn to face him. "Like I was the only one staring."

"Do you have proof?" He asks.

"You grabbed the smallest towel in the closet. And I know for a fact that you like my legs." I raise my eyebrows.

"Smallest towel? We have a smallest towel?" He raises his eyebrows at me.

I turn away from him. I'm right and we both know it. I look through my section of Harry's closet for a dress that I could wear. I want it to say 'festive' but not 'a Christmas tree threw up on me.'

I can't find either. And I'm sick and tired of holding up this stupid towel. "Harry!" I whine. I whine, I really do. I am so done with this dress situation.

"Yes, my love." He says poking his head in the large closet/small room.

"Pick it." I pout.

Harry smiles, assessing my impatience and lack of self control. "Okay."

"Okay." I tease.

"The fault, dear Isabel, is not in our stars but in ourselves." He says, I hear the smile in his voice.

"Thanks Cassius." I smile.

"This one." He pulls out a dark purple dress. It's technically maxi but it's sheer from my knees down so I don't exactly know what to call it. The top is a halter.

"It's purple." I say.

"I do realize that."

"It's supposed to be Christmas - y."

"You're a dissapointment." Harry says, shaking his head in mock horror.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Were you or were you not a sugar plum fairy in The Nutcracker when you were sixteen?" He asks.

"I was..." I have no idea what he's getting at.

"Your dress is the color of a sugar plum." He smiles, pleased with himself. "Bam, Christmas."

I shake my head and smile at him. "You're cute."

"I know." He smiles, cheeky.

I take the dress from him and get dressed in the bathroom. I blow dry and curl my hair. We're going to some fancy Harry's entire family Christmas thing. I already hate it. Harry seems excited though, so I try to mimic his emotions. It's not working very well, but whatever.

I am putting on foundation when Harry re appears. "Face goo." He says, nodding at my brush and foundation bottle.

"Very close." I say. He comes around behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

"Why do you like it so much?" He asks.

"Evens out the skin tone and covers the uglies."

He nods like he understands but I know he doesn't really get it. He doesn't need to, honestly.

I put on some eye makeup and Harry watches. Fluffy eyeshadow brushes, menacing mascara wands and deadly eyelining pencils. I put on a pinkish nude lipstick.

I turn around and make a kissing noise at Harry. "Mwah!"

He smiles before cupping the back of my neck in his hand and kissing me recklessly. We were slightly late to his family get together. I also had to reapply lipstick and get some of it off Harry's face. I asked him if he realized what a bad idea that was. He said he didn't, then kissed my cheek. I was left smiling, like an idiot, by myself. What am I to do with Harry?