It's You [H.S.]

11.4 | You're it

7th February 2019 (continued)

"Shit, H!", Jeff reaches quickly over to right the fallen tumbler, as Mitch attempts to mop the table with the already soggy little serviette from beneath his beer bottle.

"Still a clumsy sod, then!", Tom sits back and shakes his head, keeping a keen eye on Harry.

Sitting there stock still, he just gapes at his phone.

"H?", Mitch prompts, looking up from the table.

Mutely turning his phone, he reveals the notification.

He cuts his eyes to see Jeff's widen in surprise, mouth dropping open. Mitch offers up a wide-eyed, encouraging smile.

"Well, fucking hell, play it already!", Tom sasses, already reaching across the table to snatch it.

Despite his distraction, Harry effortlessly blocks him with a reflexive swipe of his forearm.

"Whoa, ouch! No need for the ninja moves, just fucking listen to it, you pussy!".

Harry flips him off smoothly, midway to running a hand through his hair.

With a subtle shove to Tom, Jeff lends some reassurance. "We're here for you, man, whatever happens".

Pressing play with a shaky finger, Harry then throws himself back on his chair with a groan, nervously hiding his face in the crook of his arm.

Watching on tenterhooks, they hold their breath when he gasps and his body goes rigid.

After hurling himself forward, Harry freezes - elbows on his knees, mouth agape, phone still to his ear.

"What? What did she say?", Mitch prompts.

"Umm...", Harry offers a sheepish grin. "I'm not sure I got anything after 'It's me...'. Fuck, it's good to hear her voice!".

Playing it again, his grin stretches wider.

It gives the boys hope.

"So?", Jeff asks eagerly.

Still staring moonily at his phone, Harry paraphrases. "It's done. He's already been extradited for sentencing in Sweden. And she knows... She's fucking furious, but she knows! And she's on her way, here. She told me not to dare move".

His relief is palpable, but his grin falters as he clocks their mixed reactions.

Totally out of character, Mitch claps gleefully, eyes looking suspiciously shiny.

Jeff is smiling, but has his thinking face on.

Tom's grimacing. "Well, when? You know, just so we can alert the authorities about Typhoon Eloise... So they can batten down the hatches and all", he jests.

That breaks Harry out of his daze, and he jumps to his feet, startling them. "Oh, God! She's coming here? Now?", he tugs at his hair. "Fuck! I think I'm going to be sick...".

He dashes to the toilets, already entirely overcome with nervous anticipation.

>

Gingerly re-emerging a few minutes later, he's a little more composed, but visibly rattled.

Sipping the water one of them had thoughtfully ordered for him, Harry picks up his discarded phone, juggling it between his hands distractedly as he starts voicing his jumbled thoughts. "Crispin or Ben must have squealed and told her everything... And where to find me".

"So, when is she arriving?", Jeff asks softly, trying to calm him down.

"She didn't say; just said she's on her way... It's a twelve hour flight from Heathrow, so, allowing some time at either end, she could make it in, what, seventeen or eighteen hours?".