Idiosyncrasy (Harry Styles AU)

Twelve

Chapter 12

Bethany

I growl and curse under my breath.

“Come on! Start!” I yell at my stubborn car.

But it only sputters and turns over again. I groan, throwing my hands up and sitting back. I grab my phone and dial an auto shop’s number I thankfully have saved on my phone.

I’m definitely going to be late to work now.

“Hello? This is John’s Auto shop, how may I help you?” a deep, masculine voice speaks into my ear.

I explain my situation halfheartedly, then hang up and await the tow truck.

I haven’t spoken to Harry since the night he quickly disappeared. Today I was going to bring some of the cookies we baked to him, but now I can see that’s not going to happen.

I wonder why he was so quick to leave and was acting so awkward after Sandy had come in. Does he . . . like her or something?

No. That’s absurd.

Soon, I’m in the lobby of a small auto repair shop, waiting impatiently for my car to be ready.

“Bethany Carol?”

I stand up, looking for the person who called my name.

My mouth falls open slightly as my eyes land on a familiar figure. He seems to be appearing everywhere lately.

“Harry? I didn’t know you worked here,” I voice my thoughts, walking over to him.

He’s dressed in a work shirt with John’s Auto Repair shop stitched neatly into the breast pocket, along with dirty skinny jeans. His curly hair is pulled back with a cloth headband, and car oil stains and dirt blotch his tired face.

He smiles, but it looks forced. “Yeah . . . four years so far,” he says in his raspy voice, wiping his hands off on a rag. “Your car is having engine is having troubles. I can fix it, but it’ll take a while to get the parts in.”

I cringe. That was not what I wanted to hear at all. “How long?” I ask warily.

Harry scratches the back of his neck. “A week . . . Maybe more.”

I groan, abandoning all thoughts of getting to work today. The tube station is on the other side of town, and I’m pretty sure I left all my money for cab fare at home.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?” Harry asks, as if reading my mind.

I want to scream “yes!” but I can’t just ask him to take off work to drive me.

He offered, you dipshit. I mentally slap myself.

“Well I was going to go to work when I found out my car wouldn’t start . . .,” I trail off, chewing my lip.

He adjusts his head band and smiles crookedly. “Well, it just so happens that it’s my lunch break now and I live where you work.” H winks, unbuttoning his work shirt to reveal a white v-necked t shirt underneath.

I smile gratefully, pulling the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “Thank you, Harry.”

The ride to work is silent besides the faint sound of the radio in the background. Harry seems really deep in thought, and I decide not to bother him, although the curiosity to know what’s on his mind is eating at me.

When he drops me off, he smiles and waves goodbye. I thank him profusely for his kind act, and walk inside.

It’s already twelve-forty-five, and I still haven’t eaten yet, but all I have are Harry’s cookies, and I’m not going to eat those.

I sign in and sit at my desk, busying myself with some paperwork. A few minutes pass, and I’ve greeted and answered several people’s questions. The place is quite busy today, which is unusual.

“Hey, Bethany.” I turn to the door as I hear my name.

“Harry,” I smile. “What are you doing back here?”

He awkwardly shifts his weight from foot to foot, as if he doesn’t know himself. “I . . . I brought you lunch.” He holds up a Nando’s bag.

I smile gratefully, and hold up the container of cookies I had pulled out of my car before we left. “And I brought you cookies.”

Something flashes across his face for a moment, but just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, a smile in its place. “Thank you,” he whispers.

As we eat, I watch Harry out of the corner of my eye. He looks deep in thought again, like in the car, but it’s different this time. His eyes are dark and sullen, like he’s angry at something.

“Are you okay?” I ask, scrunching my eyebrows together.

He looks up at me like he’s never seen me before.

“Uh . . . Yeah. These cookies are good,” he mumbles quietly, looking off into the distance again.

I raise my eyebrows and lean back into my chair.

He stands abruptly, opening his mouth like he wants to say something; but he closes it again, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Thanks for the cookies, Bethany.”

Then he walks out the door, not looking back.

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This is a short filler chapter, but the next two will be intense ;)