𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐑! | harry styles

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐗𝐗

THE wave of euphoria Bree was riding after the time she'd spent with Harry over that weekend with Connie and Tom had to carry her for days, because it quickly became apparent that in their time apart, Harry had developed a routine that left little time for her – for them.

On the days when he didn't have tutoring sessions with a literary specialist, he was at Pipeline, and when he wasn't at Pipeline, he was doing his driver's education hours for his behind-the-wheel test.

But Bree didn't complain – at least not out loud. She was proud of the strides Harry was making, and even though he pretended not to, she knew he loved it when she told him so.

She knew how important it was for him to complete the goals he'd set up for himself, even if it meant their relationship was relegated to school hours, weekends and late night phone calls.

"Hey."

It was a Thursday night, way beyond the appropriate time to receive a phone call.

"Hey," Bree smiled as if Harry could see it. "How'd your driving lesson go?"

Harry uttered a muffled pshaw. "Those lessons are a waste of time. I drive fine. I could go down to get my license tomorrow if I didn't need those stupid hours."

"Yeah, well, your car isn't ready anyway."

There was a pause in the conversation, as Harry didn't like to rehash the damage that he'd brought upon the gift his father had given him.

So instead, he changed the subject.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked.

"Aren't we going out?" Bree asked in response. She'd figured that since they spent so little time together during the week that it would go without saying that the weekends were theirs.

"Well…" Harry hesitated. "I actually have to work until ten."

"Oh." The disappointment in Bree's voice was evident.

"You want to come by?"

"Where? Your job?"

"Yeah."

"Is that allowed?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah. The guys have their girlfriends down there all the time. You can't like, hang out my whole shift or anything, but if you come a couple hours before closing we could…go to my house after or something."

"Yeah, okay," Bree readily agreed.

The next day, it was fully Bree's intention not to show up early to distract Harry, but then Johnny had begun throwing words like 'curfew' and 'no car' around, and Bree knew that if she didn't see Harry early, she wouldn't be seeing him at all. So at nearly seven-thirty, Bree grabbed Johnny's keys, with his reluctant permission, and headed down to Pipeline to see her one and only.

Harry wasn't expecting her and Bree didn't want to distract him, so she sat in the small lobby on an overstuffed red sofa and looked around until her eyes finally landed on him. Immediately a smile dressed her face at the sight of Harry in a new element. A gentle stirring tugged, not at her heart, but at her mind. She leaned back into the plush furniture, happy to watch him for hours.

"Can I help you?"

A gruff voice broke through her cinematic experience. Bree looked up to see a well-worn man standing before her, wringing his hands on a blue shop towel.

"Oh, no. I'm fine," Bree smiled up at him when she read the title 'Manager' written underneath the name Brian on his smock. She knew him to be Harry's boss. "I'm just loitering."