Constant // Harry Styles

Chapter Eight: "Don't apologize."

"Do you have a nine?"

"Go fish."

"Do you have a queen?"

"Go fish."

"Do you have a three?"

"Go fish."

"Do you have a queen?"

"Dammit, Harry," Dana muttered, slapping her card down on the ground.  The smug grin of the queen on the playing card matched the triumphant grin on Harry's. Dana shoved her son's shoulder, forcing him to catch his balance and sit up straight before he toppled over to the floor. "I just asked Rory for a nine," she whined.

"That's why I asked you, mum," Harry said, taking the card from his mother.  He held the pair between his two fingers and waved them at all of us before putting the pair of nines in front of him on the shaggy carpet. "I knew you had it." 

I laughed, but stopped when Cameron started to talk to me. "Do you have a five?" He asked. I knew he was just playing the game with us to pass the time, but I really wished he wouldn't talk at all.

"Go fish," I muttered, staring into the lit fireplace a few feet away from us. I pulled the heavy, blue blanket around my shoulders more tightly around my body. When the power went out in the house, Dana lit the fireplace and grabbed all of the blankets that she had. This hellacious storm came out of nowhere. I was certain my mother would have been raving about it for days if she'd heard about it before it happened. Even Dana said she saw no indication on the weather channel about such a storm happening today. I used Harry's phone to text my parents that I was fine, but I'd heard no response. I was sure this storm and being locked in with both Harry and Cameron was God's way of punishing me for rolling my eyes at my mother too many times.

"Do you have a six?" I asked Harry, my eyes scanning the numbers on the three cards I had fanned out in my hand. Harry's hair was up in a bun and he was swaddled in a blanket of his own, as well as a black, tight-fitted high school hoodie and grey sweatpants that he had obviously grown out of. I almost felt bad for stealing his pajamas, but then again, seeing him in such attire was exceptionally amusing.

"Go fish," he said after a second of squinting at the card in his hand. It was hard to see from the wavering light of the fire. He looked at his mother. "Do you have a two?"

"Harold, you are grounded," Dana groaned, throwing one of her cards at him.

Harry grinned and put down the last of his cards on the carpet. "I win."

Cameron and I tossed the remainder of our cards onto the floor in front of us.

"We should play again," Dana suggested, but she was quickly shot down by a reluctant stare from Harry. We'd played the game seven times, and at that point, I was more willing to stare at the shadows dancing on the wall of the living room than play the card game again.  Dana stood. "Well, if that's the case, I'll go see what I can find for food. This is why I keep telling your father that I want a damn gas stove..."

Dana disappeared into the kitchen, using a flashlight to find her way. Instantly, the room felt colder. The three of us were silent. I tugged at the plaid fabric of Harry's flannel pajamas on my body and glanced back at the fire, popping every so often. My eyes flickered to Harry sitting beside me. He suddenly looked dead. Lifeless. It was like the Harry that I saw when we got to his Kappa Sig party, silent and expressionless. However, I couldn't say I was any different. When I'd returned downstairs to Cameron and Harry from changing a few hours ago, I'd already shut down mentally and emotionally. This was how I was in confrontations and situations I didn't want to deal with. At the moment, I did not want to deal with Cameron.