Tongue Tied - Harry Styles AU (on hold)

chapter 23

Harry ended up taking us to Le Bernardin, something about having to impress my father. As much as I argued about it being too much and unnecessary, I was immensely craving seafood so I kept my mouth shut.

Harry also insisted we take a cab, saying something about his truck not being worthy of taking us to such a remarkable high class restaurant. I know it pained him to say that about his car, as if his inner rich kid was talking and not him. But I somehow knew deep down it was because Papa was with us and he's trying his best to impress him. When in reality, the fact that Harry has a car is enough to impress Gary.

We take a table with a booth and two chairs facing it. Harry and I sat in the booth, while Papa sat on one of the opposing chair with an enormous grin on his face as he takes in the atmosphere of the tranquil restaurant - he isn't used to being pampered like this.

The restaurant was extravagant, with its grand walls made either from rich mahogany or crystal-like glass. It had an enormous lush portrait of ocean waves covering the entire wall, it as well as the dim lighting, added to the sedate and relatively sanguine atmosphere.

"You good?" Harry asks looking down at me.

My head snaps towards his voice, pulling me out of my trance state.

"Not so bad, I mean you could've taken us to a little more swanky restaurant." I shrug sarcastically. "But I guess this will do."

Harry doesn't catch onto my obvious sarcasm and his face falls, and I can almost see the anxiety rising in his dilated pupils. "You don't like it? Uh, we can leave?" He turns asking Papa.

"Nonsense, kitten." Papa waves his hand dismissively. "It's perfect. My daughter's just being as sardonic as ever."

Kitten? Really?

Harry turns to face me again with a slightly amused and less apprehensive expression. "Is that so, Ms. Hill?"

I shrug innocently, batting my lashes feigning innocence. He places his hand on my thighs just as a blonde waitress makes her way towards our table.

"Hello, my name is Angelina. And I'll be your waitress for today." She states confidentially, staring a little too long at Harry. Why is that pissing me off? Surely, I'm not jealous. We're not in fifth grade and Harry isn't even mine to claim. I try to brush it off, that is until she bends down giving Harry a full show of her non-existent breasts while biting her lower lip lightly when setting down our menus. Two can play at that game.

"Babe, I don't know what to get." I pout, running my hands through his, now almost shoulder length, hair. He turns to face me with a puzzled expression, taken aback by my sudden display of affection. "Help me? Maybe some oysters? Would you share?"

I continue to bat my eyelashes while keeping my hands all over him. I notice the waitress stiffening and standing straight when she notices me marking my territory - not that he's mine but what harm would it do if she thought so? The instant I mention oysters his eyes widen, slowly catching on to what I was getting at.

"Oysters!" Papa interrupts our show, clapping. "Yes, get them as many oysters as possible, it'll help Harold here get in the shack, if you know what I mean. But as for me, I have to cut off a little. Everyone knows oysters are an aphrodisiac, boosts your sexual desire like crazy. Trust me I'd know, back in '79 I had a date with this erotic French soldier-"

"Okay." I announce a little too loudly. "Enough, Papa. We'll get a plate of oysters."

"Please." Harry adds a little too kindly giving her the rest of our order, trying to balance out my clipped tone. "A bottle of your finest champagne as well."