Nowhere In Particular // H.S.

Eleven: "We're not going skinny dipping."

I'm used to looking at shelves. It's practically been my job the last few years working at Powell's. Since it's probably the most popular bookstore in Portland I have to be efficient in the task because without it, I wouldn't have a job.

When it comes to looking at shelves of books, I'm set. I can read titles quickly and find what I'm looking for with ease. But looking at the shelf in front of me now, I'm at a complete loss. I have no idea where to even start.

"What do you think we should get?" Harry asks, standing next to me with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

We've been scanning the shelves of this liquor store for the last ten minutes. Harry's decided to be exceptionally annoying and not give any input when it comes to picking out our choice of drink for the night. The only advice he's given me is "choose what feels right to you."

This seems like valid advice for most things in life but I'm not sure I'm falling for it when it comes to picking out which bottle to choose for our potential drunken adventure. It feels like I'm picking poison and no matter what I choose it's still going to taste awful.

"I don't know," I shrug. "Something that doesn't draw too much attention."

I'm not fully convinced my fake ID is going to work and since we aren't twenty one I'm feeling a bit shaky with the thought of getting caught. Harry laughs at my nervous movements as we continue to stare at the shelf in front of us. I feel like pushing him with his casual teasing and laughter at my uncertainty.

"Was there anything in particular that you enjoyed in the past?" he asks, finally being a little bit helpful with the search.

"Not exactly," I shrug again. "But it isn't supposed to taste good, right? It's only supposed to make you feel good."

"It can taste good too," he chuckles. "At least decently good... we'll just have to put my bar tending skills to the test."

He grabs a few things from the shelf and I try to read what the contents are. While they're the smaller options for bottles it still seems like a lot. I really don't think we need this much to get me sufficiently drunk. I'm sure I'm a lightweight considering I'm a rookie when it comes to this sort of thing.

Harry senses my perplexed look and shrugs his shoulders as he holds onto the bottles.

"What?" he laughs. "We need options."

I follow him down the aisle and the bottles in his hand clink together. We walk around the small store a bit more, trying to figure out if we need anything else... but I'm just trying to kill time.

I feel like the man at the front counter is staring us down, like he knows that we aren't technically supposed to be buying things in here. I'm sure it's just my mind playing tricks on me, paranoid that I'll have to awkwardly explain why I thought I would be able to buy alcohol even though I'm legally not allowed to. I think Harry finds my concern slightly amusing because he keeps looking at me and laughing quietly to himself.

"Greta," he whispers, with our backs turned to the man at the register. We're in the furthest corner of the store but I still feel like he could be listening in. "Lighten up, sweet girl. The first step to pulling this off is confidence."

I can't help but let out a sarcastic puff of air because he sounds exactly like Laurel.

"What if we get caught?" I ask with nervous eyes, looking up at Harry.

He smirks down at me, leaning closer until I feel him breathing out onto my face, "We can always just steal it," he winks as he whispers. Then he laughs at my shocked reaction, earning a glare from me.