the favor (a Harry Styles fanfic)

32. scaredy cat

Mandy's POV:

"And what the heck are those supposed to be?" Juliana, my second eldest sister, (and also the biggest critic in the family), asked when she received a small porcelain bowl from mother.

"They are rare Mastutake mushrooms. We roasted them in olive oil and garlic. Eat them, they cost me nearly all of my spending money while Ken and I were in Japan." Kimberly, the eldest spoke up, her styled eyebrow raised in a sharp judgmental point. Her boyfriend of ten years, Ken, looked equally as offended.

"Why the fuck would you even buy them, then?" Juliana passed the bowl onto my step father, John.

"Because Ken likes cooking. He didn't go to Le Cordon Bleu for nothing, Julie." Monica, my third eldest sister spoke in clear sarcasm. I tried to hide my smirk. Juliana really had no clue about what was going on in whatever situation she was in. She was too high the majority of the time, drunk the others. I'm surprised she hasn't fallen out of her chair at least once today. It wouldn't be a normal Christmas dinner with the family without Juliana tipping over at least three times.

"Why would he go there? I thought he's an accountant." Juliana said before taking another sip of her glass of 'grape juice'. She tells mom she doesn't drink at the dinner table, although I can smell the wine from across the table.

"He is an accountant, darlin'. But he attended Le Cordon Bleu before he went to business school. He dropped out from Le Cordon Bleu, don't you remember?" Mom intervened and the room fell silent. Juliana's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, and she looks down at her plate. A small giggle escapes her lips.

"Oh shit. Yeah, sorry."

"Language, Julie." Mom glares at her sternly and Julie rolls her eyes.

Silence encompasses the room until finally Margo, the last of my sisters, the one closest in age to me, (a year apart from me, actually), asks me a question.

"So, Emmanuella," I cringe at the name, and I know the rest of my sisters are smirking at my discomfort. They love to use my full name to piss me off.

"Who's this new mystery hubby I keep seeing on insta?"

I freeze, turning slowly to face her. I knew I shouldn't have allowed her to follow me on social media...

"What? Who?"

Margo retrieves her phone, and although mom has yelled at me countless times for taking my phone out at the table, she says nothing to Margo. We've always thought she has a soft spot for Margo- the cancer kid, the child viola prodigy going to Cambridge for her masters on a part time scholarship- Mom loves her the most, although she won't admit it.

"Don't be stupid, little sis. Who's this?"

Margo shoves the phone in front of my face, and I have to blink in order to adjust to the bright florescence. The moment I can see it clearly, I gulp. I click on the photo and see that I am tagged, and it is on Harry's account. It is a selfie that Harry had taken a few weeks ago while we were out on the dock watching the holiday boat parade. I can see the deck in the background that we had been sitting underneath in boat chairs. The caption reads "boats, pals, and pretty gals". My heart leaps in my chest- did anyone from the sorority see this? Is it public?

"I would have thought you were just friends with him, but I know you and you don't make many friends- especially not with straight men. Who is he, Mandy?" Margo presses, and I feel everyone's eyes on me.

"He's- he's just-"

"Looking at his profile, he seems like a real weirdo. Only posts in black and white, barely any selfies... And what the heck is this. Why was he wearing a blonde wig with this blonde? She looks like that girl from your sorority... I saw you were tagged with her too... You're quite the popular girl, aren't you?"