Floss // A Harry Styles AU

twenty-eight

I felt conspicuous sitting in the car outside the flat we'd come to view. Not least because of my bright orange car, but because we'd pulled up and not even made the slightest attempt to get out yet. Mickey and Federico were late, to no surprise. Mickey wasn't the most punctual of people and we had been early, but I always accounted for time getting lost. It happened more than I'd like to admit. Twenty minutes late, though, to an appointment they'd set up was a bit of a piss take.

We were outside a tall complex built of greyish gold Cotswold stone, three storeys tall and in a pentagon shape with two missing sides to box in a generous green communal garden. It needed a bit of a trim but I supposed that didn't really matter. Maybe it was due one.

I sat with my elbow against the window, sliding my index finger between my lips and leg bouncing impatiently.

I was trying to hide my irritation from Ruby, but she hadn't seemed to notice. She was comfortably sitting in the passenger seat with her legs hanging out the side playing Animal Crossing. She'd been quiet and I knew why - she was trying to keep her emotions calm for me while she went through her second cycle.

Helpless, I reached over and stroked my hand down her hair. She fidgeted and shuffled forwards away from me.

"Tickles." She said in a mumble.

"Sorry."

Bongo was in the boot of the car, parcel rack removed so he could stare out the back window. Every time someone walked past he started pacing, and I could only laugh at him.

"Why are we here again?" Ruby asked but never actually looked at me.

Great question, wish I knew. "We're here to help Federico view a flat."

"Your friend Federico?"

"Mhmm."

She turned over her shoulder then, eyes inquisitive. "The pretty one who was at our house last week?"

I really wished she didn't call him pretty. "The very one."

Her gaze fell, but it was no less curious. "He was nice."

"He is nice. That's why we're here." Although we won't be if he's not here in five minutes.

"Where is he from? He had a funny accent."

"He's Italian."

"Sounds fancy."

I snorted and pinched her cheek. "Don't tell your abuela that. She likes to be the fanciest."

"What's it like? Where he's from?"

"Italy? I don't know, I've never been. It's warm, though. Lots of pretty places and things to do."

"Can we go?" Ruby climbed onto the car seat and properly faced me. "I want to go to pretty places."

I smiled over at her, stroking the backs of my fingers along her cheekbones. "Maybe one day, muffin. I need to find somewhere to take you this year first."

"Why not Italy?"

I didn't have an answer for that. At least not one I could justify to her. I shouldn't have been surprised that her curiosity piqued at the mention of a country she had heritage in. I couldn't keep her from it, either. One day she would probably travel there, with or without me. I'd rather it be with me.

Fortunately, the arrival of her father and Mickey saved me from having to give an answer.

Mickey pulled his black beamer into the empty space next to us on the passenger side, throwing me an apologetic smile. I finally got out of the car and scowled at him over the roof.