Again

Chapter 40.

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"Mum?" I hear Harry ask, when I climb out of the car, followed by Harry who stands at least two feet away from me. I try to ignore the fact that he's keeping me distant as if we didn't just make out. But I still feel the invisible string stretching between us. I can't be the only one feeling that, right?
Only now I realize how I must be looking, messy hair, wide eyes, and swollen lips. I quickly try to straighten my hair out as Mr. and Mrs... Anne's eyes shift to Harry who -like always- looks amused but also unreachable at the same time. But this time there is something else as well.

"Hello son," Mr. Styles acknowledges Harry rather coldly, but Harry doesn't seem impressed. If I didn't knew it better I would say that he looks angry, no furious. He runs his hand over his head, back and forth, leaving his dirty blonde hair to stand upright but doesn't look our way. Instead his eyes are focused on his house walls. I remember all the countless times I had witnessed a heavy argument between these two and how it almost always ended up with Harry driving away as soon as he got his license. I always wondered where he would have went - I bet his parents did, too.

He moves, but doesn't look my way even though I can feel him reach his hand out and streak mine behind my back. I can smell his scent. He smells like mint and sweat and Harry. Anne is focused on me as she says in her slight British accent: "Mia, darling it is so nice to see you!" She always has that aura around her, like sunbeams welcoming anyone whom she likes. But there is also a hidden shadow that leaves you wondering: what lies behind the light?

For a moment I don't know how to react. I know she saw me at the Grill, she even acknowledged me with a nod, so why does she act like she hadn't? I look at Harry who has come even closer. Anne's eyes flash when she notices but quickly recovers. Her eyes are big and I know we are thinking the same thing at the moment. And I know that she is begging me not to tell. Instead of calling his her out I put on the best fake smile I can manage. "Likewise, Anne. How has been your day?"

"Very good so far," she says casually, but I can tell she's lying. I've seen the tensing of her shoulders before. On Harry. "And since we are already talking I can tell you directly that we just invited you and Bob and your mother to come have dinner with us."

I can feel Harry's body stiffening by his mother's words. For the first time since we are standing in front of my house, Mr. Styles brings his eyes to Harry. "Can I expect you to be there as well, Harold?"

Harry presses his lips into a fine line. "I don't know, can you, Matthew?"

Harry's father turns around, the color of his cheeks turning even darker and for a moment I am scared he might randomly bursts into flames. "Harold, I have given you enough chances to make up the many mistakes you made. I am your father, and that means you do as I say when I say. I do not expect any cocky answers."

Harry's breathing has picked up with every word. Anne bites her lip, and reaches her hand out to touch her husband, but he backs away. "Do you understand me or has all the alcohol finally eaten up the last brain cells you had left?"

"Matthew!" Anne hisses, and I can see Mr. Styles wince a little, but quickly recovers. The way he stands there, the eyes angrily blazing... I now see the resemblance. I feel incredibly awkward, out of place. I desperately want to reach my hand out and hug Harry. He's standing right next to me, but seems so far away. On the other hand I want to run into the house. I feel like the time I was at Em's house, eating dinner with her parents. I remember wanting to ask for the salt, but the salt was right between their upcoming divorce. "Hello Amelia," he suddenly speaks, but his eyes are still set on his son. "Please don't take the rudeness of my son personally. Apparently he has his own head and only does as he pleases anyway," he says, eyes blazing Harry, who frowns at his father words. For a moment the shock I feel by his words freezes the blood in my veins. How can a father be so mean towards his own son? Suddenly I have this strong urge to defend Harry, but hold myself back. It is not my place to call Harry's father off. This isn't like him, though, he's been so calm before.

"I'll be there," is all Harry says, his calming tone sends a shiver down my spine. His hand isn't on mine anymore, he doesn't even look at me. His cheeks are visibly red under the paleness of his skin and his eyes big as he turns on his heels and moves towards his own house - across the street. With a bang he closes the front door. He didn't even look after me. I don't dare to look at any of them, and I think they are glad that I just smile and mumble a rushed "Goodbye," before running up the stairs to my house.

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A/N.: Parenting.

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