At long last, my mother takes the turkey out of the oven, and finally, it is time to eat. My younger cousins have been literally whining for the past hour and a half, and I honestly don't blame them. In my family, we do a Thanksgiving lunch that is supposed to start at one, but in reality, it rarely starts prior to two-thirty. So needless to say, we're all starting to get a bit hangry.

Harry isn't here yet, but I really don't think it would be a good idea to make everyone else wait for him, so my mother decides to let everyone go ahead and assemble their plates. While everyone is loading up on mac 'n' cheese and various other comfort foods that are traditional for a Thanksgiving meal, I work on getting everyone's drinks settled. Apparently, that is one thing we forgot to do, so now I'm being forced to talk to every one of my relatives in an effort to fix such a tragic oversight.

As I am placing the last drink on the table, I am pulled into conversation with my very Southern grandmother, during which she asks me the number-one stereotypical relative-at-Thanksgiving question: "I'm so glad you're enjoying school, Camryn. Are you dating anyone yet?"

Ahh ha ha. Stress.

And just like there is a director giving cues to the characters in my life to make things more dramatic than they should be, the doorbell rings, signaling Harry's arrival. Man, my life really has a flare for convenient timing. Or rather, inconvenient timing.

Biting the inside of my lip and trying to force away the fresh blush that has risen to my cheeks, I use the opportunity to avoid my grandmother's inquiry, "I, um, I have to get the door."

I make my way out of the dining room perhaps a little to quickly, and a few of my relatives laugh at me as I trip on the edge of the upturned rug, making me even more embarrassed than before. I reach the door and curse myself for not telling him to come in through the basement. Of course, the front door is in direct sight of the dining room where the majority of the adults are sitting, so there's literally no chance of sneaking in unnoticed.

It's not that I want to hide Harry; that would be silly. I'd just rather have a less obvious entrance, because with the way my house is set up, I'm basically going to be parading him past every single relative I have. They are for sure going to embarrass both of us with their banter and mocking tones, and I am not ready for it. I just hope Harry is.

When I open the door, I slip outside and shut it again before Harry can even take a step. He looks at me very confusedly with that cute little smirk he often wears, and suddenly, as I am in the sight of him, I forget why I was so nervous. Though I am worried about what he will think of my family, I do not doubt that they will love him. He is stupidly gorgeous, ridiculously funny, and uncommonly kind, so what's not to like?

"Is something wrong?" Harry questions, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. When he does this, I realize that this is the first time I have seen him in blue jeans instead of his typical black jeans or other outrageously colored dress pants. I gotta say, those jeans with the crimson flannel button-down he is wearing really does make him look so damn fine. He has a few buttons undone, so I can just see the swallows tattooed on his defined chest. And he has the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, exposing the assortment of tattoos on his toned forearms.

Oh, fuck me. He's too damn hot for me to have to be with family right now. The last thing I want to do is act appropriately, if you know what I mean.

Leaning against the door, I shake my head with a smile, "No, I just wanted to warn you that everyone is in the dining room as soon as you walk in, so they might bombard you. I don't know though, hopefully the mashed potatoes are distracting them."

Harry perks up, noticeably more excited, "You made mashed potatoes?"

I feel ya, man. Food excites me like nothing else.

"Dude, it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without them," I laugh, wondering who the hell wouldn't have mashed potatoes for such a holiday.

A small silence falls over the both of us; I think it's the nerves. Or at least, for me it's the nerves. I'm dreading having to face the suggestive comments that my relatives will make regarding Harry and I's relationship. I'm willing to bet one of them will ask when the wedding will be, so I'm really scared that they will freak Harry out.

"Come here," Harry mumbles, interrupting the silence and biting down on the inside of his cheek.

Harry takes a step forward and reaches for my hand, pulling me towards him. He wraps his strong arms around me and draws me into a tight embrace with my cheek pressed against his warm chest. The feeling of his skin in contact with my mine feels like having that first sip of water after hours without it. I knew I missed him, but now that Harry is here holding me in his arms, I realize just how much I needed him. Being with Harry like this just feels right and safe and pretty much all the ways it should feel. I don't know how I ever lived without him, and I begin to fear that if this ever ends, I will be broken beyond repair.

Harry rests his chin gently on the top of my head and sighs like he is cherishing this feeling as much as I am, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too, I just wish we didn't have to go inside," I groan, and with my ear pressed to his chest like it is, I can hear is steady heartbeat become a little more erratic than just a few moments before.

Pulling away from him, I look him directly in the eyes and tell him the thing I should have told him the minute he got here, "They're going to love you, though, so I'm not worried."

At this, Harry seems to physically relax just a bit. He didn't appear stressed to begin with, but now that little crease on his forehead has smoothed out and there is a bit more enthusiasm in his expression.

So he is nervous? That's so sweet to me for some reason. I dunno, I guess him being nervous to meet my family means that he cares about our relationship in long-run, and that makes me feel just about as happy as Stanley Hudson on pretzel day. Almost.

Taking Harry's hand in mine, Harry nods at me and I open the door, beginning what will probably be a day of great stress and discomfort. We walk inside and are immediately stopped by the voices of some of my relatives asking who my guest might be.

With my heart racing, I gesture towards Harry, "Uh, this is Harry; he's–"

"Is he your boyfriend?" my grandmother inquires excitedly, and I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I'm not embarrassed by him, obviously, just embarrassed that I'm having to do this at all. I've never introduced a boy to my family like this before, so I'm really struggling with finding the right way to do it. Sorry, Harry, if my inexperience is off-putting.

I glance up at Harry who is smiling and look to my grandmother who seems to be waiting patiently for my response, "Um, yes. He is... my boyfriend, and he's eating lunch with us."

Yoooo... I didn't know I needed to say that Harry is my boyfriend out loud, but I really did, and it felt amazing.

However, my inner dance party is interrupted as all hell seems to break loose in the dining room. I have never even had a legitimate boyfriend before this, so my family bursts into a chorus of "finally"s and childish "ooh"ing.

Shaking my head in embarrassment, I grab Harry's arm and begin to drag him away, "We're going to get food."

Harry laughs and follows behind me, saying, "It's nice to meet you all" to my family as we make our way to the kitchen. As soon as he speaks, they then begin to discuss the fact that Harry is, in fact, British. I can't be certain, but as Harry and I put more distance between us and the dining room, I think I hear my uncle ask something about why the hell a Brit is celebrating Thanksgiving.

Oh, hell. It has begun.

When we reach the kitchen, I release Harry's arm and gesture towards the food-filled counter, "There are the plates, and you can get however much you want... Except for the rolls. Those we have a strict two-roll limit on."

Harry picks up a plate and looks at me confusedly, "Is there a story behind that, or is it just an effort to limit everyone's carb intake?"

Laughing to myself, I take a plate and follow Harry in gathering generous helpings of everything, "Um, both? One year, I decided to only eat rolls because, I dunno, what's better than bread? So then there wasn't enough for everyone else, and ever since, we have had a two-roll limit both to make sure everyone gets one and also, to make sure that I don't die from a carb overdose."

Harry stops what he is doing, eyeing me in disbelief, "You can't be serious?"

When I don't respond, Harry simply shakes his head and chuckles to himself, "You know, I thought you were kidding all those times you said bread is life, but I see now that you were entirely serious."

Placing two rolls on my plate, I nod solemnly and attempt to keep a straight face, "Bread is not a joke, Harry. It never has been, and never will be."

After a few seconds of just staring at each other intensely, very much like one of those awkward scenes in Twilight where Bella and Edward stare into each other's souls for no reason at all, Harry and I both crack and begin laughing at my foolishness. Bread is indeed life, but never again will I eat that many rolls in one sitting.

Just as we're putting the finishing touches on our rather overloaded plates, my father walks into the kitchen and leans nonchalantly against the doorframe with a rather concerning and mischievious smile on his face.

Harry greets him politely, and my dad uses the opportunity to make us all uncomfortable like any self-respecting dad would do in this situation.

"So, I hear you're the boyfriend now, huh?" My dad smirks at Harry, taking a sip of his beer and looking very pleased with the surprised expressions on both Harry and I's faces. Let me just say, my dad is very chill man at heart, but sometimes when it comes to me, he likes to be not so chill.

Harry nods, uncertain of what to say, and I decide to save him from this bound-to-be uncomfortable conversation by replying for him, "Yes, dad, but can we do the intimidation thing later?"

My dad laughs and fake pouts at me, "But Cam, I've never gotten to do it before. I was born for this moment."

Rolling my eyes, I hand Harry some silverware and a napkin, "Dad, please. It's Thanksgiving. As soon as everyone leaves, you have my full approval to intimidate him as much as you want."

Harry widens his eyes at me, like he is pleading me to take back what I have just said, and my father correspondingly laughs like one of those cheesy, cartoon evil villains.

"I'm just kidding," I laugh at Harry's stress and look back to my father. "You won't do anything. Right, Dad?"

He recovers from his fake evil-laugh and sighs dramatically, "I suppose. Just know that you're depriving me from some joy amongst the sufferings from your mother's family." My Dad whispers the last bit, evoking a laugh from both of us.

Thus begins Harry and I's first Thanksgiving together. Much food is had, many jokes are exchanged, and way too many questions are asked regarding Harry and I's relationship. So you know, it's basically your typical awkward family meeting, and I find myself realizing throughout the day that I have been stressing out for absolutely no reason at all.

My family is undoubtedly crazy, but Harry's charm and quick wit unfailingly entertains me and puts them in their place. And, in an unforeseen turn of events, Harry actually spends part of the evening watching last year's college football National Championship with my dad and some of my uncles. This surprises me greatly, seeing as Harry has never even showed any interest in going to the football games at our own school. Not to be creepy, but I may or may not have watched them banter together about the ridiculous calls made by the referees for a bit, and it literally makes me so happy to see Harry and my dad getting along so well. I value my dad's opinion immensely, so for things to be going so well, I am legitimately over the moon with excitement because now I won't have to have the terrible internal battle over whether I should listen to my dad or my heart.

And obviously, my mother likes Harry, too. I mean, he calls her Margaret for fuck's sake, and he helped her with the dishes once everyone was finished eating. So for real, Harry is golden on the mom points.

My extended family leaves after a while, all of them piling into their various vehicles and speeding away to beat some of the Black Friday traffic. When the last of them leaves, my parents and I collapse in the living room, sprawling ourselves across the floor and the furniture with little to no energy remaining. Harry was previously in the bathroom, so when he walks in seeing us all laying there like actual dead people, he is, needless to say, very confused.

"Um, what–" Harry begins, but he is cut off by my rather exhausted mother.

"Don't question it," she says from the couch with an exasperated sigh. "Just pick a spot and sit."

I watch Harry from my place on the floor as he hesitantly plops down beside me, bending his legs and propping his forearms up on his knees. He looks down at me questioningly and I huff in amusement at his confusion.

"We always host since our house is in the middle of everyone else's, and laying on the floor in defeat has become somewhat of a ritual," I tell him quietly, knowing that my mom will probably yell at me if I speak too loudly.

Harry nods understandingly and looks curiously around the room, fixing his eyes on the many embarrassing pictures and random knick-knacks that are strewn across pretty much every surface. A few moments of silence pass before someone speaks, and to my surprise, it's my dad that says something.

"We've enjoyed having you around today, Jerry," my father says, keeping his eyes fixed absentmindedly on the ceiling. I try to fight the smile that is overtaking my mouth at the name my dad has just used to address Harry, knowing full-well that he is in-the-know about the whole Jerry Miles thing.

I watch as Harry rolls his eyes and looks down at me, "Really? Your dad, too?"

I shrug, allowing myself to laugh at Harry's frustration, "Where do you think I get my fantastic sense of humor?"

"That's right," my dad announces, lifting his head from the chair back and looking over at us on the floor. "You hear that, Margaret? She gets her humor from me."

Without even opening her eyes, my mother replies dryly, "Since it is Thanksgiving, I will allow you to think that just this once."

Now this is how the dynamic between my parents and I normally is, and I'm really glad that they're acting the same with Harry here. This is just further evidence that they like him.

Harry laughs, rather amused at the banter between my parents, "Regardless of where she gets it, I really appreciate you letting me crash your family time. It's refreshing to see people who genuinely care about each other gathered together for something like this."

As Harry turns the conversation to one with a little more substance, I can't help but feel sad for him that he can't experience Thanksgiving with his family. I mean, yeah, I made a big deal about my family being crazy, but at the end of the day, I love them and I do genuinely enjoy when everyone is over here, despite all the stress it might cause me. I just wish that Harry could feel the same way about his family, even if it is his stepdad's family. I understand that it might never be that way for him, but it still makes me sad.

I look sympathetically at Harry and slide my hand to his thigh as a reassuring gesture, to which Harry responds by smiling gratefully at me and putting his large hand over mine.

My mother props herself up on the couch and watches us, her soft expression looking very much like she is about to say something very motherly, "Harry, you are welcome here any time. Any man who cares for Camryn the way you have in the last few months is definitely a man we'd like to see more of in this house."

Mom, I retweet that, but don't make me sound like I talk about him all the time. Thanks.

I would just like to clarify that I have told my mother about Harry and I hanging out, but up until today, she did not know the extent of our relationship. However, knowing my mother and the nature of moms everywhere, I probably should have known that she knew about Harry and I's feelings for each other all along.

At this, a bashful smile claims Harry's expression and he takes on that adorable look of a little boy who can't take a compliment. Let's just say, it's in moments like these that I'm reminded of how he's genuinely too pretty to be with me of all people. But despite my insecurity about that, I just focus on him and how cute he is. Because let's face it, what else would I rather be doing?

My dad pulls me from my thoughts as he agrees with my mom, "Thumbs up to what she just said. Also, any man that has the wisdom to hate on Alabama football is a friend of mine."

I can't help but laugh at my dad's ridiculous standards, "I'm pretty sure you only hate them because they keep winning."

"I will not tolerate that kind of talk in this house, young lady," my dad snaps at me playfully, earning a laugh from each of us. He then continues, addressing Harry once more, "no, but in all seriousness, I like you, Harry. I just hope you have more sense in you than the rest of these college boys."

Harry nods thoughtfully, "if I said I did, that'd make me an idiot, so I won't do that. But I will say that I don't want to mess this up."

Wow. Talk about swoon moment, ammiright?

•••

Yooo what's everyone up to? I went and saw Post Malone in Atlanta last night so HARRY WAS IN THE SAME CITY AS ME AND I DIDNT GET TO STALK HIM LIKE ANY SANE PERSon would and it made me sad... BUT my Harry concert is tomorrow and I am legit going to cry. It's fine. I'm fine.

Anyways, thanks so much for reading! Please vote if you can, and I hope everyone has a wonderful day/night! :)