(early update, short chapter, just a filler, but ayye you get to meet Nicole. love you lots & thank you for reading xx)

chapter nineteen

"HARRY, YOU HAVE not properly lived until you've had my grandma's baked turkey," I declared while skimming the list in my hand that Mom had given me.

"Isn't it just baked turkey?" he asked, eyebrows knitted together.

I glanced over my shoulder to gape at him. "'Just' baked turkey? Curse words, Harold. Never speak them aloud."

He smirked. "You know, Harold isn't actually my real name."

"Well, for most people Harry is short for Harold, therefore I will call you Harold in a time of crisis."

"This is a crisis?"

Finally, I turned fully to look at him, placing a hand on my hip. "Yes, it's a crisis. You don't seem to believe that my grandma's turkey will cause a puddle of drool to form at your feet."

He held his hands up in surrender. "I never said such a thing. But I will be suspicious until I've tried it for myself."

I nodded approvingly, beginning to walk again. "Okay, we're looking for scallions. Have you ever had shrimp salad?"

"Can't say I have."

I tutted. "You've got a lot of catching up to do, Harold."

He was pushing the cart, following me as I weaved in and out of aisles with a concentrated face. We'd already had to circle back around to a couple of aisles because I'd overlooked what Mom had written. Harry didn't seem to mind, though. Occasionally he'd stop to look in the bakery section, and I'd have to grab the front of the cart to get him focused again.

"Will you be making another of your delicious cakes?" he questioned.

"Do I need to?"

"I mean, I'd eat it if you did..."

I laughed. "We've got to go back to the other side of the store, then, for ingredients."

Harry was already spinning the cart around. "You're the one who needs to catch up now, Delilah. Double time!"

"I assure you, it isn't going anywhere. Besides, we'd have to come back here. Let me just finish getting all the produce."

He pouted, his bottom lip jutting out.

I gave him a look. "Really? The 'puppy' face? You honestly expect me to give in just because you made your eyes bigger and sad-looking?"

His puppy face didn't falter when he said, "Is it working?"

"No."

"Damn."

"See, you've made us take longer now. I could've already had potatoes if you hadn't of held me up."

Harry let out a dramatic sigh, throwing his head back. "I just want some cake."

Taking Harry through the store was like looking after a child. Whenever I would stop to grab something, he'd bump the cart into my butt as a sign to hurry up. When I told him we'd have plenty of sweets Thanksgiving and he didn't need the bakery cupcakes, he threw on another pout and I eventually had to ignore him for him to let it go.

The toy aisle was even worse. The only reason we went down it was because they had bathroom necessities and I needed more shampoo. He'd found a Nerf gun that was broken out of its package, and I instantly felt little foam bullets hitting my arm. I'd glare at him; he'd snicker to himself and venture to pick them all up before reloading and shooting me again.

Once I got my shampoo (and another foam bullet to the forehead), I huffed. "Harry, how old are you?"

He tilted his head. "Twenty-two."

"You're acting like you're five."

"I was trying to cheer you up."

I frowned, my own head tilting this time. "I'm not upset."

He set the toy gun down, then stepped closer to me, his hands on my shoulders. "No, but you're stressed. You spent ten minutes trying to decide if you should get whole carrots or baby carrots."

"It was a big decision."

Harry smiled softly. "Do you always get so stressed for holidays? I mean... it's just a dinner."

I shuffled from foot to foot, looking at my toes as I did so. The truth was, Harry was having Thanksgiving dinner with my family. And it did stress me out just the slightest. I guess I obtained that quality from my mother, who could never have company over and not worry about having a tablecloth or not. She panicked easily, and so did I, apparently. I'm not sure why it bothered me so much considering he'd already met my family. Well, my closest family.

"You said you've never actually celebrated Thanksgiving," I reminded him. "It's important to me that you experience a good one."

He seemed bewildered at first, a small sparkle in his green eyes. Then he chuckled and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. "You think the food is going to dictate whether or not I enjoy myself?"

"It always did for me," I mumbled. "You have to have decent food to enjoy yourself."

"Well, I mainly need decent company, and I think I've got that covered."

"Nat? Yeah, he's decent, I suppose," I joked.

Harry pulled back, kissing my forehead. "You're right. He's far more interesting to hang around than you are."

"I mean, I can understand that. Nat's crazy."

He laughed, pushing my hair off my shoulder. "In all honesty, though, I'm just honored you invited me. The food could be rubbish, but I wouldn't mind too much."

"You're too good. If someone gave me rubbish--" I mimicked his accent "--food, I'd regret leaving the house in the first place."

He shrugged. "At least you're honest."

I smiled, rolling my eyes at him. Realizing we were still in the middle of an aisle, I snapped my fingers towards the cart. "Let's go, cart-pusher-dude. We haven't got all day."

***

Harry and I were in the midst of putting the groceries in the back of my car when another vehicle, a very expensive looking one, pulled into the parking space beside us. I hadn't thought much of it at first. Why would I? It was just another person coming to the grocery store for last minute shopping.

But then I heard Harry's intake of breath and he muttered, "You can't be serious."

Before I could question him, a girl with dark brown hair and tan skin emerged from the vehicle and was standing beside us. She was thin, yet had defined curves her skin-tight tank top happily showed off. Her hair fell just above her lower back, cascading in perfect waves. Her lips were full, her eyes were bright blue, and she was overall the epitome of what every girl dreamed to look like.

Not a single flaw in sight.

Practically intimidated, I shrank back at her stunning appearance. She seemed to notice, a bitter smile gracing her red lips that made her impossibly more beautiful.

I almost didn't hear Harry grumble through the tension. "Nicole, this is getting ridiculous."

She batted her long, dark eyelashes innocently. "I'm simply here to shop, Harry. What a coincidence you happened to be here to..." Her eyes flitted over to me, sharp and narrowed. "With your... her."

Harry visibly straightened, his jaw clenching. "She has a name, one of which I'm afraid you won't get the pleasure of knowing, because we're leaving."

He tugged the hem of my shirt to move me out of the way so he could close the trunk, then gently pushed me by the hip to the driver's side. He opened the door, but Nicole had strutted around the front and was closing it.

"Oh, don't be rude. I've been looking forward to meeting her." She pursed her lips, leaning forward as if speaking to a child. "What's your name?"

"You don't have to answer her," murmured Harry.

"It's just her name. What harm could that do?"

"Delilah," I mumbled, somehow finding my voice.

"I guess it has some appeal to it," she said, flipping her hair off her shoulder with impeccable manicured nails. "I'm sure Harry's told you about me. We were together for a while, you know, until he randomly left one day without a word. I figured he'd found some toys of sorts..." Her eyes gave me a once over, her lips curling in distaste. "However, this I hadn't expected."

"Alright, enough." Harry put his hand on Nicole's shoulder, making her take a step back. "Your immaturity is why I left you, and I did leave a note since you refused to even speak to me. But I'm tired of arguing with you, Nicole. Just, please, leave me alone."

She glared at him, so much hatred and disgust in her eyes that I had to look away. "I can't do that, Harry. Not until you realize what a stupid mistake you made when you threw me away like trash. And for what?" She scoffed, jabbing her finger in my direction. "Her?"

"I didn't even know Delilah when we broke up," he pointed out.

"Would you pick her over me now?" She jutted her hip out, her hand falling on it.

Harry took in a breath, as if to keep from shouting. "Yes, actually, I would."

He opened the car door again, ushering me inside. He closed it quickly, slipping past Nicole to walk to the passenger side. She was saying something, her heart-shaped lips moving at the speed of light, but I couldn't make out any words. She stomped her foot, Harry turning around only for a moment to reply, and then he was in the car, locking the doors behind him.

I cranked it up, coming to my senses long enough to back out of the spot. Nicole was still rambling, sticking up her middle finger. Harry drooped in his seat, one of his hands running over his face while the other pulled his seatbelt on. Neither of us spoke while I drove, until we pulled up to a spotlight.

I couldn't help myself. "She's pretty..."

He snorted. "Only on the outside."

I bit my lip to prevent myself from saying anything stupid. I know I shouldn't be worrying about "competition." Harry had expressed many times how annoyed she made him, and if he wanted her then he would've gotten back together with her by now. But there was still that gnawing feeling in the back of my mind, knowing I'd never amount to her. Not in looks, at least.

And looks were important. As much as people tried to say "the inside is what counts," nobody really bothered to actually see someone for who they are. Appearances draw people in and hold them there. Personalities merely make them enjoy being around you. However, there are too many people in the world who'd choose a model over their best friend solely for their reputation, or how they'd look together in public.

I could have the best personality in the world, but surely Harry would eventually choose the pretty one. It's just how life worked.

Either I was more obvious than I thought, or Harry had just gotten to know me well enough, because as soon as we were in the driveway he spoke my thoughts. "Delilah, I know what you're thinking and you're wrong."

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

He sighed, knowing I was merely trying to avoid the subject. "There's not enough money in the world to make me go back to Nicole. And even if there was, I'd still choose you."

"I know," I lied, mustering my best smile.

He didn't really look like he believed me, so his response was to lean over the console and kiss me instead of using actual words, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek. I felt myself melting under his lips, his touch. I wondered if such a feeling would always occur when he kissed me. Like a match had been struck to send off a thousand sparks in every direction in my body, making my stomach flutter with the warmth.

When we detached, my heart was beating fast and my cheeks were flushed. Subconsciously my hand lifted to push his hair off his forehead, lingering a moment too long in the soft curls. His eyes were gazing into mine and I could see it--his genuine feelings towards me--and the realization of finally being treated with care made my heart beat even faster.

"Do you believe me now?" he whispered.

I kissed him this time, only briefly. "Yeah, I do," I whispered back, and maybe I actually did.