Coffee Cups (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Two

Andrea Palestine
                         -54 days prior-

       The clattering of cups was heard through the hallway as was the roar of laughter erupting from the men sat there. I peeked in through the creek of our old wooden door catching a glimpse of dress pants and faint smoke from the cigarettes.

         Father never let me into the room like always, claiming it was 'man talk' which meant agressive and violent. Ever since I was young, he always had meetings with old men, in a closed room away from mine suggesting I stay out. They smoked and drinked and discussed sports. I dont find anything aggressive in that, just manly and now, that I am twenty two I feel the right to be introduced to his friends who I suppose are about sixty and seventy. But yet, here I am crouching on the floor and spying on them like the ten year old me which is ridiculous.

        "Ah! The lads, they got a goal right up next to the score." A hoarse voice hummed, laughing bitterly. To be honest, I didnt get a word he said. I dont even know if that makes sense. And it was just hopeless anyway, so I stood up, walking back to my room that stood a mile away from this.

         "Andrea!" Samantha's voice called out. She was entering the main door with grocery bags perched on her hands. Her stout figure strutted towards me as she tried to keep her posture, like father always asks her to. According to him, a lady must walk straight, neck up and eyes forward. And that was exactly what Samantha was ordered to do lest she get fired.

        "Yes?" I hummed in response walking to her while she laid the bags beside me below a table.

          " Did Mr.Clifford come out yet?" She asked shyly, though her facial expressions were stern. I nodded, a no, which she took as an answer before walking into the kitchen to prepare the afternoon meal. I followed shortly, seating myself on the island that separates the kitchen from the living.

          "Why? Whats the matter?" I questioned, starting the conversation again, trying to take it formal though.

        "A Mr.Jeremy wanted to be notified to Mr.Clifford." She talked, profressionally while laying out the cooking vessels. I reckon that to be one of the reasons father hired her not only as the keeper but as his assistant too. We arent really rich but I suppose you could say we are important and people hold a lot of respect for the Cliffords, aka me and father, hence the assistant and securities.

        "What are you doing?"

"Some beef steaks and rice. Would you like anything with it?"

         "Not really." I shook my head, grabbing an orange from the fruit basket. Samantha stopped working, turning around to look at me with a polite smile. I returned the smile, while frowning. She never really engages in talk, in the name of being profressional and respectful, so it was surprising when she started.

       "If you dont mind, can I know what you do?" She mumbled softly, fidgeting with her plump fingers.

        "I dont really work." I spoke out frankly though it was embarressing to admit. "Father suggests I stay home, thinks its too dangerous after the rumours of attacks. And I was homeschooled, never really got the the liberty of doing my college or masters which is quite necessary to get a job these days."

         "I never really went to school either. We couldnt afford education. And there were twelve in our family anyway. The farming only provided us food and shelter. We were starving and broke and poor, quite obviously."

         "Well we might meet the same fate though, no offense. Me not working and father already retired from whatever the hell he was doing, we are most likely broke. Or maybe will be broke in a few months? And I still dont get why he needs security. There are ten around this shit shack, Sammantha. Ten. How can we afford them. And you. You are his assistant? For what? Keeping track of his alcohol intake and cigarette use?" I rambled. I thought Samantha would snap for talking like that. I dont really know her. I hardly know her, though I do know she is a very formal lady and does not curse or encourage cursing.

      So it was surprising when her loud laughter was all I got as a response before she resumed working.  I sighed, peeling off the orange and taking in two at a time. "Sometimes I think he is a criminal or something along those lines. I dont even know who he is, never have. I guess you could make a better daughter than I am. I bet you know a lot more about him. Do you Samantha?"

           "You have grown up, havent you?"

         "I am twenty two and clueless." I giggled. "This is the first time we are properly talking, right? Other than the 'father's calling' or 'breakfast ready'."

          "Right."

"Its pathetic. I must be the most abnormal girl in town. You dont mind me talking right?"

         "No. I quite like it." She confirmed, turning back and smiling at me to continue.

         "Well. There was this one day, I was at the local coffee shop, just down the road, dont tell father. And I have my own reasons, it was raining heavily. Anyway, back to the shop. I met this thirteen year old boy, and when I told him I was a Palestine, not clifford, but Palestine, he got all excited and told me, I quote the exact words, 'He is a devil of a man, Clifford.' He sounded like a proper man. Insane and abnornal. Devil of a man? How does he even know father? Its just weird."

        "Devil of a man, he said?" Samantha hummed, knitting her eyebrows together and staring at me intently.

        "Uhuh."

"You have a way of speaking. Its nice. But you are verbally very confusing."

          "What?"

"You tell a lot at once, I mean. Its hard to catch up."

           "Oh! But thats not it, what did he mean? How does he know my father. I dont even know my father and he does. Actually, a lot of people know father, and they respect him too. He must have been someone of great importance. That would explain the security. Or...or maybe he is still secretly working. That would explain you and the security. But devil? Se-"

         "Enough Andrea!" Samantha chuckled and I joined in. I see what she tells me. I do ramble. A lot.

           "Its maybe because I havent really had a proper talk in years and I have so much to tell." I defended myself slowly after our outburst. Its true though. Its nice to release and think out loud than in my mind, which is very constricting. This gives me more space.

       "I understand."

"Thats it? Thats what my long rambling gets? Dont you have anything to say. Maybe like answer some of my questions?"

          "I dont really have answers to your questions but I can say you have a plausible and creative way of thinking."

           "Oh jesus! Forget it."

"But I do think I know the boy you are talking about."

(A/N : Forgive me if it is a confusing chapter, but as you can see or more logically put, read, Andrea rambles and hence her POVs are confusing and all over the place in some chapters when she is excited. But I hope you like it. And Harry will be coming soon. I just want you to understand Andrea's character first before introducing Harry's.)