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It Doesn't Have To Make Sense
"HARLOW?"
"Nan, I'm getting changed. Can you give me a second?" Mentally, Harlow patted herself on the quick reply she seemed to come up with, but the guilty feeling for lying to the people she loved left a bitter taste in her mouth. It seemed that Michael was rubbing off on her, influencing her lying self, and the funny thing about it is, she hadn't even spent that much time with him.
She groaned, "Okay, but hurry up. I want to talk to you about something."
Harlow couldn't help but mentally stop, as the 'something' must've had been severe enough if her nan was so hung up on talking to her about it now rather than leave it for later. She brought her fingers to her lips, motioning for Michael to be quiet. Straight after, she pushed him- or at least she tried to push him near her closet, but he was heavy and reluctant. He wouldn't budge.
"Michael," she hissed. "Get in."
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