Make It Work (Harry Styles)

Chapter 29

(A/N: So the boys performed in Oakland last night, and I couldn't go so one of my friends recorded it all for me, and another facetimed me the whole time. So not only did I see it, but I have videos to watch whenever I want. It's like I went. The boys were so good and I cried all night. I'm crying just thinking about it. Ok. Back to the story.)

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Jenna's POV
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"Hi, honey! How was the concert?!" I heard my mom greet Lexi as she walked in.

"Great, Aunt Becky!"

"Did you meet all the boys? Aren't they lovely? All but that no-good, rotten, heartbreaker."

"I wouldn't speak too soon..." Lexi said as Harry and I approached the door.

"Why's th-....hello, Harry...." My mom said as we awkwardly stepped inside.

"Hi, mom." I said hugging her.

"I'd ask how the concert went...but I think I see it went well?" It was more of a question than a statement, so I nodded in response.

"It's lovely to see you again, Mrs. Wilson." Harry said giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Is the Mr. around?" He asked.

"Oh he's always around. Always watching. Always protecting." We all turned to see my dad leaned against the dining room frame, snapping his shotgun.

"Dad, come on. With the gun? Really? I think we both know that's unnecessary." I said walking up and taking it from him. "Harry knows what he's done. No need to make him pee." I popped the gun back open, waiting for the shells to pop out of the back. "It's not even loaded. Seriously?" My lips were in a line and my eyebrows were raised. This was typical of my father.

"I was just cleaning it. Figured it'd be the perfect time to scare the shit out of the boy." He chuckled and I turned to see Harry, his eyes still wide.

"Go put it away, jackwagon." I laugh as my dad reluctantly heads to the gun case in the garage. "Mom, Harry and I will be upstairs. I'll come down to talk in a minute." I say, pulling Harry behind me.

"What's a jackwagon..." Harry asked as we entered my room.

"It's just like saying 'dummy' or..I dunno?"

"So you used a word you don't know the meaning of?"

"It was either that, or something vulgar like asshole, douchebag....something along those lines." I laughed a little at his expression. I rarely cuss, and when I do it's only because I'm mad. So, I'm sure the casual way I said the first name caught him off guard.

"You'd never call your father that." He said.

"Actually I would. It's a form of respect to him. Having the balls to call him a name shows him that he 'did something right'." It was true. My dad never liked being called stuff like 'sir' or anything along those lines. It was too formal. My dad preferred someone who could take a joke and roll with the punches.

"I don't understand your father."

"Well whatever you do...stick with calling him Gary. If you call him a name without knowing him at least 5 years...I don't think it'll end well." I joked.

"Noted." He said as he took a seat on my bed.

I reached into my closet and grabbed my suitcase. "Are you going to help?" I ask Harry.

"I figured you could grab stuff, and I'll fold." I like my things a certain way, and I was almost certain Harry couldn't do it. "You can show me how to roll a shirt, babe." He laughed. I must've looked like I was freaking out inside. I'm so OCD when it comes to packing.