While I was lying on my bed, trying to decide my approach to my newfound tutor, my cell phone began vibrating like crazy in my pocket. I had completely neglected it! I removed it carefully, worried to see how many missed calls and unread text messages.
5 Missed Calls! 15 New Text Messages! greeted my phone. "Mama Mia!" I shouted. All five of the missed calls were from Lily (wait, no, one was from my daddy) and a third of the text messages were from Lily, the rest an assortment of my dad, Oliver, and Jake. I decided to only open the text messages, and only the ones from Lily and my father. Lily's last four text messages said, "Hello? Are you there? Miley! Why are you ignoring me???" Her original text message stated, "Hey, Miles, missing you like crazy! Hannah may be temporarily gone, but she's still super popular! So (I can't remember if you're going to an all-girls school or not) are there any cute boys that you've met? Text me back ASAP. Love you, babe. Lily." I sighed. I couldn't disclose my secret location, so I just said to Lily: Hey, girl! It's so beautiful here. No there's no cute guys. I am so angry! The dorms are awesome and this place is unique. Sorry if I can't text you—I am so busy. I mashed the send button, but it immediately displayed the "failed" sign. I groaned and rushed to Harry. "Why won't my cell phone work?" I demanded. He grimaced. "Ooh, sorry, Miley, but remember? None of the Muggle devices work here. Sorry again."
I sighed in pure frustration. "It's alright," I said calmly. Harry smiled sympathetically. "Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked suddenly, his face becoming alert. I was taken aback. I stared at him blankly for a couple moments, and he became embarrassed and starting blushing. "No, no, no, don't be upset! Of course I'll go on a walk with you. Where to?" Harry immediately brightened. "I think we should go down to the lake; they have a beautiful sitting area right by the water." I blushed and offered a nervous smile. "Let's go."
We left the castle quickly and hurried outside. When we located a rundown path that led to the lake area, we eagerly took it; we'd been traveling on rough and uneven gravel with hidden tree roots (Harry tripped twice; since I'm used to having to be agile and quick and light as a feather on stage, I didn't). Finally, I saw what he was talking about. A wooden bench that was a little beaten up rested on top of a slight hill. It was framed by beautiful trees and had a perfect view of the sun sinking and the moon rising, creating glossy and beautiful shadows over the lake. It was totally romantic. For a traumatized kid, Harry knew how to be romantic. Too bad he was a little awkward.
We sat down and after a few silent moments, Harry attempted conversation. "Hey, Miley, what's it like in America?" he asked, never diverting his eyes from the lake. I followed suit. "Nice, I guess. But we don't have the same beauties that England does. I suppose we have our own unique beauties, but nothing compared to yours. Except in the area I live in. Our beaches could kick your guys' butts." He laughed timidly. A few more awkward moments, then, "Miley, listen, I'm going to be dead honest with you; I know I only just met you, but I feel deeply and passionately connected to you." My eyes bulged. I hoped he hadn't noticed. I liked Harry already, but how awkward would it be to hook up after a few measly hours? Kind of pathetic and desperate, if you ask me. Harry inhaled slowly and picked up where he left off confidently. "And not only are you kind and fair, but you are stunning and everything I hope for in a girl. I hope I'm not going too fast." He glanced at me hopefully. I shook my head in a taunt manner. "Well, I just wanted to bring you down here so I could do something." That caught my attention. What was he going to do? "What?" I asked semi-sheepishly. "This." Harry rushed in and pressed his lips—against mine. One of the places they really did not belong.
While I was being forced into this awkward (how many times have I used that word to describe Harry/something that pertains to Harry?) kiss, I heard Ron's familiar voice piercing the quiet. "Hey, Harry, you better—" Silence. What happened to Ron? I broke the kiss quickly and whipped my head around. Ron looked—I can't even explain it. I guess like his best friend betrayed him. He didn't look angry; he looked helpless, betrayed, upset, and pained. I felt a thoughtful pang in my heart; poor Ron. I wondered if he liked me—liked me. And maybe he told Harry, or maybe he didn't. Either way, he had an excuse to be upset, but not at the same people or for the same reasons.
"Ron?" I asked quietly. Ron looked from Harry to me. I scanned Harry's face; he didn't look smug or upset or apologetic—I don't think he knew he was hurting Ron. "Harry," stuttered Ron, "how could you?" I guess Harry knew…? Or maybe he didn't and Ron was blaming him. Or maybe Ron told him or hinted and Harry just didn't quite pick it up. Or maybe he was busing plotting his surprise attack on me.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he was immediately stifled—Ron lunged at him and clear knocked him off of the bench. I shrieked as they tumbled down and plunged into the murky and unfamiliar waters.