Close Quarters / hs

Close Quarters

"What the f-"

You gasped and nearly jumped out of your skin when a strong pair of hands squeezed your shoulders. Whipping around, you found your new "housemate" smirking sweetly at you. "Harry!"

He squinted through his thick-rimmed glasses as he peered at the glowing computer screen on the counter in front of you. "Working much too hard for 1:30 in the morning," he drawled.

You stretched where you were sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, noting the way Harry's fingers sank into the knit sweater over your nightshirt to knead at your tense muscles. "Seem to be most productive at night right now," you sighed, rolling your neck on your shoulders. He really was good with his hands, you had to admit; not that you'd give him the satisfaction of letting him know.

It had been three weeks since California had been ordered to shelter in place. Three weeks since your friend and colleague Glenne suggested you hole up with her; at the time you assumed it would only be a week or so max, and it was better than being isolated alone in your tiny apartment. She and her boyfriend Jeff had a gorgeous house up in the hills with a pool and plenty of easy access to hiking; rather than sulk at home and work 24/7, you figured you might as well try to enjoy this surreal time with a few friends.

What Glenne had neglected to mention was that Jeff had also invited Harry to crash with them after his plans to return to London fell through. You'd met their friend and Jeff's client a few times before at dinner parties and other get-togethers, and he seemed like a nice guy. In the past you'd always been in attendance with your ex and Harry had been busy working the room, which meant you'd never had much face time with him.

Until now.

Because it felt like he was in your face constantly.

The first week was fine; you all treated it more like a staycation than a quarantine. Days lounging by the pool, ordering in meals from your favorite local restaurants, escaping once or twice for hikes at Runyon Canyon. At night you'd sit around the fire pit, drinking and telling campy ghost stories. Harry and Jeff even joined you and Glenne donning face masks, and Harry proved to be an excellent manicurist. In fact, all four of you were currently sporting the same shade of baby blue on your nails - because why the hell not?

But as the second week slowly wound to a close, you were no doubt feeling the effects of the close quarters. Working remotely was proving to be a bigger challenge than you expected, and you missed your regular routine and your space. You knew how incredibly lucky you were to be safe and healthy, but you were beginning to go a little stir crazy.

And you weren't the only one. Jeff and Glenne had started to get snippy with one another; nothing more than a little domestic spat here and there over the dishes or who got control of the remote, but it was enough for you and Harry to awkwardly avert your eyes - or, more recently, to exchange knowing looks whenever you heard "that" tone.

As for Harry...well, Harry was going through it in his own way.

Initially, he spent a lot of his time out by the pool scribbling in his notebooks. Songs, you assumed, because you could also hear him across the hall in his guest room strumming at his guitar. He was always up for hikes and games and movies, but most of the day he was hard at work on his own projects like the rest of you.

And then he started baking. You couldn't remember the last time you had seen someone as excited as Harry was when a five pound bag of flour was delivered to the house last week. Most afternoons he could be found shuffling around the kitchen, hair tied up atop his head, Glenne's ruffled apron around his waist and flour streaked through his rapidly growing beard. Bread with every meal (and most snacks too) had quickly become a way of life. You couldn't say you minded.