 ~ Mrs. Steve Harrington ~ It be like that sometimes.
In his defense, he preferred to lift the boxes anyway. His mother would strongly disapprove if he caught Keighley lifting any up the stairs. Charlie had figured that he’d give the girlfriend a little time to try to figure out where she wanted certain of his possessions to go. But yes. Him being much closer to Keighley now was so much more important. Thank the heavens his mother had taken the job here in the UK at that Observatory. Thank the heavens that she had wanted him to come along. Charlie would miss his father, his six siblings and life over in Sweden, however. He would miss his horse, Thunder. He would miss Durmstrang, the outdoor air of his home country and everything else.These were all grounds for him falling homesick if he wasn’t careful.
Speaking to Keighley in Swedish had become second nature to him. She was such a quick learner that her knowledge of the language had only gotten stronger. Charlie was so proud of her. “I’m alright.” It was true; being a Beater, being on the rowing team and benign overall athletic had its perks. “Thank you for always caring.” Char moved close to Keigh and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Then he peered into the box of trophies. “Kolla på den här." {"Look at this one.”} He plucked a shiny silver cup about seven inches in height from the mix. “I got third place in an MMA competition. I think I was a first year at the time.” This would certainly interest Keigh. |