You Were a House on Fire | Harry Styles

three*

Harry entered Ruby's Diner that Friday just as he had at the shop the past week. Except for this time, the ding of the cash register greeted him instead of his new auburn-haired friend. The term suited her well; he hoped she wouldn't be offended by him referring to her as such. He searched the corners of the near-empty room with his eyes, still standing by the front door. Every day before he left, Roe made sure to tell him her work schedule in the most nonchalant way possible. It wasn't quite an invitation, rather an open acceptance to him becoming a regular at her workbench. She said she worked on Friday from seven to noon at the diner instead of Keystone, the auto body shop. He hadn't been back since that first night they met, but they had good pie, he'll admit. Keystone's constant screeching of metal and the faint smell of burning oil didn't deter him from seeing her, but Ruby's had cushioned seating, a quieter crowd, and offered comfort food. It was obvious to him where he preferred to be.

Harry pulled his phone from his coat pocket. Seven-thirty-two. He bit his lip for a second but released it when he approached a woman with an apron tied around her round waist and a pen tucked into her short gray ponytail.

"Excuse me, Gretta," Harry read from the name tag pinned on her plump chest, "I was wondering if Roe is working here today?"

"Darlin', your guess is as good as mine. Was 'possed to show up half an hour ago, but she ain't here an' didn't call or nothin'." Her southern drawl took him by surprise, given how far north they were. American accents no longer stumped him as they used to when he was seventeen and first touring overseas. But every once and a while, his ears decided their vowels and consonants were now a mystery. It frustrated him. Harry attempted to string thoughts together to give a response, but before he could, the bell above the front door jingled. "Well, speak o' the devil!"

Roe frantically shoved her way behind the counter and grabbed a spare apron from a shelf below. It took more coordination than Harry guessed it would normally; a small boy sat on her left hip. His fists clung to her over sized Led Zeppelin shirt and he kept his head tucked into the side of her neck the entire time she went about setting up for the beginning of her shift. Despite the shadow of Roe's chin concealing his face, Harry discerned from just one glimpse that the pair shared the same pointed nose and full cheeks.

"You better have a damn good excuse," Gretta scolded when Roe finally stood in front of her.

"I know, I'm sorry. I was up with River all night, he's sick, and the girl that normally babysits him is sick too so I had to- never mind, it doesn't matter." Roe must not have realized Harry was there already, he thought. She never acted like this in front of him before. "Lucas had a graveyard shift, but he just got off and he'll be here any minute to take River." She used the hand that wasn't supporting the young boy to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then rubbed his back as he started to go into a coughing fit.

River hiccuped once, rubbed his nose on Roe's shirt collar and whimpered, "Mama."

Roe gently shushed him, still rubbing his back. His breathing evened slowly and the tears that threatened to spill subsided. Gretta served Roe a disapproving glare but left her when a customer entered, looking for a table. Before Harry could make his presence known, someone else entered the diner and caught her attention. She sighed a breath of relief at the sight of him. Lucas.

A black button-up shirt with the word SECURITY embroidered above the left breast pocket clung to his broad frame. Like Roe, his thick, dark eyebrows drew close together, but as Roe swept closer, his shoulders visibly relaxed. The crease in his forehead below the edge of his nearly shaved head, however, remained ever-present.

They hugged, consequently pressing River in between them. Lucas placed a kiss on both of their foreheads and added his own hand to Rivers back alongside Roe's. It was at this moment, Harry realized he knew absolutely nothing about the woman he devoted his week to. They occupied the same space and spoke often. They spoke about Chicago, their favorite movies, and his damaged car. But here, with a child wrapped in her arms and wrinkles deeply set around her eyes and corners of her mouth- he knew nothing.