Boo smooths her hands down the front of her dress, fighting the urge to hyperventilate. She twirls one way, then the other, then turns around with her neck craned so she can see herself from the back. The girl in the mirror bears the same unsure grimace as her.

"This was a mistake," she mumbles aloud, her lips sliding down into a frown. She hasn't worn a dress in years-not since Russell's funeral. Not only does it bring back unwanted memories of how it felt to watch her father be lowered into the ground, she hates how exposed she feels with her legs on display.

Not to mention that a small part of her is hoping to impress Harry, and her discomfort is preventing her from doing so.

"Forget it," she grumbles. "I'm not going."

The doorbell rings, stopping her from stomping into her closet and jumping into the nearest pair of leggings. She wrestles with a bout of momentary indecision before the bell chimes again and her mind is made up for her.

"Learn some patience!" she shouts at her mystery guest. Her stomach twists nervously as she recognizes the shadow standing behind the front door; Harry's silhouette dances against the frosted glass as he shifts at the sound of her voice.

"How can I be patient when I know what I'm waiting for?" he calls back playfully.

Oh God. Don't throw up on him.

She hesitantly pulls open the door, peeking out while keeping her body hidden. "Hey, Harry," she grins awkwardly. "I'm almost ready."

He raises an eyebrow and makes a move to step inside. "Why are you hiding?"

"Because," Boo retorts, "I need to change."

"Are you wearing a potato sack? Because I'm pretty sure you can pull even that off," he smirks.

She rolls her eyes. "Just wait out here, okay?"

"Not happening," he counters, before gently pushing his way into her living room.

"No-" she protests, sighing in annoyance as he steps inside regardless. His eyes immediately go to her dress and he falls silent. Boo feels her cheeks burn in embarrassment and she hides her face in her hands.

"Harry, I told you to wait outside, why didn't you listen to me?"

Her skin is red hot; she peeks through her fingers at him in time to see his gaze flicker up to her face. "What's wrong with your outfit?" he asks quietly.

She throws her hands up in frustration. "It's . . . I look so silly, and . . ."

"You look incredible. Way too good for some dumb town dance." His electric gaze is unwavering and her blush grows deeper.

"Really?"

A boyish grin spreads across his face, revealing his dimples. Boo's heart skips another beat, and not from embarrassment. "Without question. That dress is officially my favorite thing in the world."

"Harry," she giggles, surprised at how easily he's able to whisk away her anxiety. "Now you're just groveling."

She sidesteps him to enter her room and feels his gaze burn into her back as she walks away. When she turns around again, he's flopped onto her couch and is loosening his tie. "Maybe but I mean every word."

Boo pauses in her bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame as she studies him. Even in the low light of her living room, his beauty remains untainted. She's never had the experience of young innocent love; nothing ever went beyond her unrequited adoration for someone else. How this beautiful, selfless man ended up in the warmth of her home is something she still can't quite grasp. Boo doesn't doubt for a moment that Martha somehow plays a hand in cultivating her budding friendship with Harry.

It's an oddly comforting realization that even though she's long gone, Boo's grandmother still holds a necessary presence in her life. She's gained another angel to look down on her alongside her father, while Harry steadily fills the void left by Martha's death.

Looking at Harry, and seeing how he looks at her, gives Boo the smallest fraction of hope that she's finally come across someone that could love her in return.

The crooked grin returns as he catches her staring. "What?" he calls playfully.

"Nothing," she says gently, biting back a smile. "Just taking a good look at you."

« • »

Harry parks in a dark corner of the church parking lot, away from the other cars crowded near the entrance. His hand brushes against hers several times as they approach the doors, and by the time they step underneath the yellow fluorescent lights, her hand is fully enveloped by his. Hand-painted signs lead from the main floor of the church to the basement stairs; inside the stairwell, Boo can hear the muted thud of a bass drum.

As soon as they step foot into the basement, Boo drops Harry's hand and makes a beeline for the snack table, completely bypassing Faye standing meters from the doorway. By the time Harry reaches her, she's two bites deep into a slice of strawberry cheesecake.

"Dessert before dinner?" he remarks with a smirk. "How scandalous."

"I'm warming up my stomach," she says, stuffing another forkful into her mouth.

Harry chuckles quietly and runs a hand through his hair. Boo drops her eyes to her plate, suddenly nervous to meet his electric gaze head-on. "So, how do we play this?" she asks.

He shrugs. "I guess we should split up and try to cover more ground. Just talk to people, see who was doing what during the hurricane. Maybe someone noticed something odd about Martha in the days leading up to it."

Boo nods solemnly, her appetite suddenly diminishing. She's about to rehash a fresh wound, all for the sake of truth.

"Here, you've got a little something on your lip," Harry says, pulling her from her reverie. She looks up to see him gesturing to her mouth.

"Ah, shit," she groans, reaching for a napkin. To her surprise, he gently catches her wrist and stops her.

"Let me," he says, flashing her a crooked grin. Boo freezes, staring up at him with wide eyes and a pounding heart. His hand stays around her wrist while the other goes to the nape of her neck, turning her face up to meet his as he leans in.

Boo would be lying if she didn't acknowledge all the times she'd imagined kissing Harry or the multitude of sinful thoughts she kept tucked away in the back of her mind. She'd imagined he'd be gentle, probably tasting like mint or something else comforting.

Her secret fantasies could've never done the real thing any justice. The moment his lips meet hers, Boo's legs turn to to jelly and her thoughts become clouded with Harry-his smell, his touch, the heat of his body pressed flush against hers. He's every good thing she's ever encountered; each thrilling touch, every shared enigmatic glance plays in her mind as he kisses her. Her pulse turns into a rainstorm. Lightning runs from his mouth through hers and down to her toes.

She fumbles to set down her plate, no longer concerned about dessert before dinner, and tugs him closer. His hands cradle her face, palms pressed flat to her jaw while his thumbs stroke her cheeks lightly. She's precious cargo-a treasure long searched for. His mouth molds to hers, doing more than a satisfactory job of removing any cheesecake from her lips.

When he pulls away, Boo has stars in her eyes. Inside her chest, her heart and lungs are recovering from a marathon. Harry pokes his tongue into the corner of his mouth and watches her expectantly. His own cheeks are flushed and his eyes hold a wildness she's not witnessed before.

"I'm beginning to think there was no cheesecake on my mouth," she remarks breathlessly.

Her comment invokes a crooked smile. "There definitely was. I taste strawberries."

Boo takes another moment to gather her thoughts before gesturing to her mouth again. "I think you missed a spot."

His brows pull together in faux concentration. "Oh you're right, it's right there."

He kisses her again, this time with less hesitation, and the electric feeling is just as fresh. His tongue sweeps her mouth and Boo knows that she would've kissed Harry the day they met if she knew it would feel this powerful. Her heart is still racing when they break apart a second time.

"Be safe," he whispers in her ear. Boo doesn't have a chance to respond or even catch her breath before he slips away into the crowd and she's alone at the table.

Boo begins making her rounds, weaving through the mingling crowd and casually chatting with several of Martha's friends. Unfortunately, nobody seems to remember a thing-they were all at home with their families during the hurricane. Boo leaves each conversation feeling more frustrated than before.

Soon another familiar face catches her eye-Janet Waters, sitting forlornly at an empty table. Boo cuts through the crowd to join her.

"Hey, Janet," she says genially. "How are you?"

"Oh, hi, honey," Janet says, caught off guard. She gives Boo a brisk hug but doesn't get up from her seat. "I'm alright, how are you?"

"I'm good. Mind if I join you?" Janet nods and Boo plops down beside her. "I wanted to thank you for coming to the funeral. Nana would've appreciated it."

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything," Janet replies. A tired smile lingers on her face. "It's just crazy to believe she could be gone like that."

"Trust me, I can hardly believe it either," Boo sighs. "Everything just feels like a dream lately. But I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

Confusion passes over Janet's face. "What do you mean?"

"Calum mentioned he came back because you were sick," Boo answers hesitantly.

"Oh, yeah," Janet agrees quickly. "Yeah, I'm feeling better, thank you."

Boo feels compelled to delve deeper; something about Janet's sudden change in demeanor isn't sitting right with her. "If you don't mind me asking, what were you sick with?'

Janet looks strangely pale. "Coxsackie," she answers hurriedly. "Listen, honey, I've got to go find my son, he's been staying with my father and I've no idea what the two of them get up to when I'm not around."

Abruptly Janet is on her feet, followed by Boo. "Wait, Calum isn't staying with you? Even though you were sick?"

"No," Janet replies, looking strangely uncomfortable. "But it's alright, like I said I'm feeling better. Have a good night, sweetheart."

Boo is left struggling to grasp where the conversation went wrong as Janet scurries away. Everything about that family makes my fucking head spin, she thinks crossly. She begins to edge her way through the crowd and back to the snack table when a stray piece of conversation catches her attention. She glances over to see two of Martha's friends from her knitting circle, chatting to themselves and unaware of Boo standing only feet away.

"Can you believe it? The entire house was gone," Carole says dubiously. "Just like that."

"We barely had a broken window at mine," Debby says, pursing her lips. "Just goes to show that Martha didn't take the right precautions."

"I don't think it was that," Carole counters, stirring her straw through her drink. "Martha was one of those real prepared types. It's just crazy how the same storm can affect someone so much more than other people. Even her neighbors houses weren't hit that hard."

Debby nods and sips from her Bloody Mary. "Well, like I said, it'll be a shame not to have her in the group anymore. She made me a mean pair of wool socks last Christmas."

Boo rolls her eyes and continues her trek to the table, fully fed up with the lack of information she's receiving. She hopes that Harry is having better luck, wherever he is. A quick scan of her surroundings doesn't yield any sight of him; maybe he's seated at one of the dozens of tables. Try as she might, she can't keep him in her mind for long.

Her thoughts keep going back to what Janet said. Why would Calum be staying with Nathaniel? Perhaps Boo is putting too much emphasis on something Janet only meant in passing, but the uncomfortable look on her face is what Boo really can't place.

A look of fear-being caught in a lie with no way out.

Boo can't shake the deep chill inside. That sinking sensation only grows when she catches a brief glimpse of Nathaniel across the room, his narrowed eyes sweeping the room.

Does Janet know he's here?

She briefly wonders where Calum is while continuing to stare at Nathaniel from afar, unable to look away for fear of losing sight of him. Thankfully he hasn't noticed her yet, but even so she wishes Harry were beside her again.

Her reverie is interrupted by someone tapping on a live mic. The chatter around the room dies as everyone's attention turns to the stage, where a woman is waiting patiently to make a speech. Boo immediately searches for Harry; she spots him across the room, already making his way over to her.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, just let me steal your attention for a quick moment," the woman grins. "My name is Eugenia, I'm the head of the community board, and on behalf of all our members I'd like to thank you for coming out tonight. This turnout is better than we could've anticipated."

A small round of clapping circles the room. Fingers brush against Boo's arm-Harry letting her know he's there. She automatically reaches for his hand, grasping it firmly and tethering him to her.

"Did you see Nathaniel is here?" Boo whispers to him, peeking up to gauge his reaction. He nods stolidly but doesn't reply otherwise. Eugenia's voice booms out over the mic once more.

"Tonight's dinner was generously catered by different members of the church, let's give them a hand for their wonderful cooking skills!"

Another round of applause. Boo rocks anxiously on her heels. Nothing about this evening feels right; she can faintly hear Russell in her mind's ear, telling her to trust her instincts.

"And another thanks to the Center Street Rockers for providing our musical entertainment!" Eugenia gestures to the homely band seated to her right; a group of gray-haired men and women wave to the room and Boo has to refrain from breaking into laughter.

"I hope my glory days consist of playing eighties covers in church basements," Harry whispers in her ear.

Eugenia carries on with a few other announcements, ones that Boo and Harry mostly ignore as they continue making quiet jokes to each other. The only time her ears perk up is when Eugenia launches into the more serious aspect of her speech.

"Now, I'd like to remind us all why we're here," she says solemnly. The mood in the room falls and Boo feels the smile drop from her face as she sees how blank Eugenia's expression is. "Hurricane Monroe left a tragic imprint on this town. It's heartwarming to see everyone gathered in one space, healing together, but let's not forget that some of our dearest residents were lost on that terrible night."

The muscles in Boo's chest tighten nervously. Harry releases her hand and wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to his frame. She leans on him for support, no longer trusting her legs to keep her steady.

"Let us also not forget another tragedy that took place many years ago, before some of you in this room were even born," Eugenia continues, and Boo already knows what she's referencing. "The disappearance of Damien Burkwell is still unsolved, and tomorrow is unfortunately going to be forty-five years, officially, since he went missing."

Goosebumps erupt across Boo's skin. She looks up at Harry, who's watching Eugenia with a tense look on his face.

"Let's all say a prayer for him," Eugenia prompts the crowd. Her head bows and the crowd follows suit-all except for Boo and Harry.

"Boo," he says softly. "Where's Nathaniel?"

He nudges her towards where Nathaniel had been standing minutes earlier, but now that corner of the room is sorely empty. Boo hadn't noticed his absence until Harry did, but now as she looks around the room she can see neither hide nor hair of Jack Creek's police captain.

"That's weird," she whispers. "He was just there."

"What kind of police captain leaves in the middle of a speech about a missing person?" Harry remarks, keeping his voice to a low whisper. "Isn't that his prerogative?"

Nathaniel had the ability to churn stomachs with one single look, but Boo doesn't feel any more at ease now that he's out of sight. She can't help but hold Harry a little tighter. Who knows what kinds of mayhem Nathaniel is up to when he's alone?

An acrid smell suddenly drifts past her nose, and she wrinkles her face in disgust. "Yuck, do you smell something burning?"

Harry frowns before shaking his head. The smell is gone as quickly as it appeared, and Boo's attention returns to Eugenia's speech. Now she's talking about Damien's sister, who isn't at the social.

"Let us never forget the pain that woman felt," Eugenia implores, shaking her fists as she gazes at the crowd.

Boo knows Eugenia means well, but that doesn't quell the surge of irritation that rises within. Eugenia was part of the same generation as Damien; he'd be her age if he were still around. Prayers for his family are nice but they don't bring home missing persons - actions do. Was Eugenia this broken up about Damien when he first disappeared? Or is her display of compassion the result of years of guilt at not doing anything?

A lump surfaces in her throat. Harry seems to sense her tension because he squeezes her gently, as if to say Don't worry, I'm here.

Suddenly the burnt smell returns, much stronger. Boo pulls a face of disgust, and when she looks around she finds the same expression mirrored on the faces of the people around her.

"There it is again," she whispers to Harry. "Who's cooking right now?"

"I smell it too," he grimaces. "What is that?"

They aren't left to wonder for long; an ear-shattering scream pierces the air, interrupting Eugenia's speech and the gentle atmosphere in the basement. A frenzy begins as people turn in panic, struggling to find the source of the scream. Above the brewing chaos, someone yells the word "Fire!" and all hell breaks loose.

Boo sees the smoke before she sees the flames. Black clouds pour in from the basement windows, billowing on the ground and curling between the ankles of partygoers like vicious snakes. She reaches to grab Harry but they're immediately separated by a rush of bodies flooding the basement's only exit.

"Harry!" she screams, her voice breaking from exertion.

He's desperately pushing through people to get to her but it's futile; the gap between them only grows. Boo, too weak to fight her way to him, watches in horror as he's washed away in the crowd and out of sight. More people are shoving, slowly pushing her further from the exit. Her back brushes the wall and she looks up just as a plume of smoke drapes over her like a deadly veil.

The acrid taste floods her mouth and clouds her lungs, suffocating her from the inside out. Her eyes begin to water and her knees go weak as she struggles to get away from the windows.

Get to the ground! her subconscious is screaming.

Get to Harry! the rest of her shouts.

Cold tile hits her knees; she's somehow ended up on the ground, cowering beside the blackened tables underneath the windows. Her skin prickles with the heat behind her. The fire is beginning to spread into the basement, following the black shadows left by the smoke. Tears spring from Boo's eyes and she wonders in terror where Harry is-how he could leave her to die alone.

still sad but pushing through. i think i'll feel this way forever.

thank you for reading, i hope this wasn't terrible lol. how are you doing?