𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓! | harry styles

𝐕𝐈

I let days go by. Thoughts and feelings changing by the hour.

Anxious and tempted. Forlorn then resigned. Pissed off but relieved knowing I've come out unscathed from my affair with an underage vixen. This is where I'm supposed to be, making spaghetti sauce next to Lydia on a Tuesday night. Moving the furniture in my old room under my mother's watchful eye to make it a 'craft room' on a Thursday afternoon. Tossing the football with Josh and my father on a brisk Saturday.

My plaid flannel shirt flaps behind me as I catch a pass on the lawn I grew up playing on. It's too light for this weather, but I know I'm wearing it because it was a favorite of hers, slipping it on over her naked body after fucking our brains out in the bed of my truck.

I want to pretend it smells like her vanilla, but that's gone.

School isn't easy. She's aloof, with no texts or hair flipping my way, knowing I'm watching. Cold, reserved, a girl that doesn't seem a bit sad she just had an illicit affair that ended.

She's on Mike in the lunchroom as usual, their friends crowded around and making jokes or whatever it is they do.

She doesn't look at me. She applies her red red lipstick but doesn't mouth those words to me she likes. The ones that question just what it is she is going to do with me.

I watch, trying to hide from Marcus just what it is I really do during our lunch duty. My fists clench, watching the display, supple arms and sinewy legs draped over the kid I had a football heart-to-heart with not more than twenty minutes ago.

She laughs; her fingers running through his hair. It's not new behavior, it's not behavior meant to make me jealous. Which pisses me off, because it means she's not doing it for my benefit.

It means… nothing.

* * *

"Lydia, I really don't think I look good in navy. What's wrong with the usual gray or black suit?"

"It's a spring wedding in the afternoon. Be happy I'm not making you wear tan." She smiles and winks, ignoring that we had another issue last night in the bedroom.

"The pants are too long."

"That's why we're at a tailor." My mother pinches the material on the leg, hitching it up to skim my socks. She confers with the old man making chalk lines and measuring.

"The material is scratchy."

Lydia's eyes get that sad look, the one she's showing more and more lately. The one she used to hide better. My mother stands in front of me, blocking my view of myself in the mirror. "Just what is your problem, Harry? You've done nothing but complain all day."

"He quit smoking," Lydia says quietly, and I lower my arms to pull her into a nice Duggar-style side hug.

"I'm sorry. Just give me some time." She leans up for a kiss I gladly give, guilty for the kind heart she always has for me.

"Of course. If you want black, Harry, we can do black." She rests her head against me, her eyes staring at the numerous reflections of a supposedly happy couple staring back at us.

"No, navy is fine. It's a good suit. I'll wear it again."

"And it'll go great with the blush-colored ties!" She's excited again, thinking about the final choice of wedding colors, the very shade of teenaged nipples on silk sheets.

The Empire Diner in town is full, but I find Mayor Castillo and my father seated in the corner booth easily enough, it's pretty much reserved for them.

"Mayor Castillo," I say thickly, reaching out to grab his outstretched hand as I slide in. My mind skews crazy a minute, wondering if he's washed his hand since he touched Evelyn this morning. Maybe I'm touching her by osmosis.

"It's Bruno, Harry. Please… I've known you most of your life." His mustache twitches up in a rare smile, which puts me at ease.

I order coffee and two fried eggs with bacon. Not caring much to stay fit now that… I shake my head to rid myself of her.

They start in about the scout from Oklahoma State, about how his visit falls in line perfectly with the town's bicentennial celebration. The wives are excited, and I remember Lydia telling me something about being on some sort of committee with Serena and my mother and wasn't that just wonderful?

I nod, smile, slurp, chew, not really knowing why I'm needed at this little meeting. I'll do whatever it is they want, they know it. So talk turns to boosters and the fundraiser Mom wants me to be in charge of, some sort of an indoor obstacle course for preschoolers that Saturday of the big town-wide celebration. I agree, because really, what else could I do? But I don't mind. I like kids. And it'll give me something else to think about.

"Evelyn…" The rest of Bruno's sentence gets lost on me, hearing her name suddenly, casually.

"She's a great girl, Bruno. You and Serena must be so proud of her. California is quite the change from a small town in Oklahoma." My father says as he puts his spoon down.

I cough a little, sip my water. "I'm sorry, what? I missed that."

Bruno wipes his mouth, setting his napkin back down in a ball. "I was just saying Evelyn is excited about the celebration. This will be really the last thing she's a part of before she leaves."

My ears ring, my pulse quickens and hiccups. I have to pretend. "Where is she going?" Shaky hands rest on my lap, afraid to betray the casualness of my question.

He tells all about his sister, the one taking Evelyn away from me, and the program she's been accepted into. "You have no issue letting your seventeen-year-old daughter move over a thousand miles from you?"

"Harry!" My father barks, looking between Bruno and me, always concerned about how he appears.

Bruno smirks a little, before resting his arm over the back of the booth. "She's very mature for her age. I have no doubt if this is what she wants, she'd do it regardless of my approval." He eyes me. "She'd be going off to college anyway if she didn't leave in spring. What's the difference? Trust me, if that girl wanted to go to college in Europe, she would. Distance means nothing. You don't know Evelyn like I do," he dismisses.

That's right, I don't know her like you do. I know her in all the ways you would hate to hear.

I know your baby naked under me, I know your little girl's mouth on me, and I know mine on every part of her, your precious daughter.

The eggs in my stomach sit like lead.

No, I knew her.

They start talking about Newton, thankful she's not leaving until after football season is over so it won't throw off his game, and that's enough for me and my stomach. I make my excuses, getting up and throwing a ten on the table.

* * *

I won't leave Lydia alone, getting her against the sink when she's putting mascara on, bending her over when she's doing the dishes, stripping her in the middle of the night when she's dreaming and muttering.

I take her fast and often, something she seems to forgive because to her this means whatever problems we are having are over. She just doesn't know.

I'm using her to fuck Evelyn out of my system.

And I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is.