LIGHTHOUSE // a harry styles au

six

"How's work sweetie?" Your mom asked from your couch, sipping on her favorite wine as you fried chicken cutlets at the stove.

"It's good. Busy, yanno - juggling a couple things at once, like always. But good," you spoke as you dipped the chicken into the egg, then the bread crumbs, before slowly placing it in the frying pan to try to avoid being splashed with oil. It never worked though, you always got a little zap of the scorching oil hitting your hand at some point. A battle wound for a good meal, you supposed.

"How's the difficult one?" She laughed as she got up from the couch to walk over to the wine bottle sitting on your counter.

It had been nearly a week since you had seen your mom last, meaning this would be the first time for her to hear about your dinner with Harry two nights ago.

"Oh, he's alright," you nodded as you forked the chicken in the pan to check if it was brown enough to be flipped. You liked your cutlets crispy.

"Still giving you a run for your money, huh?"

You cringed the tiniest bit at her question because, yes, he was still giving you a run for your money - that's for sure. And yes, you had complained about him to your mom more than a few times by now. But now, after your dinner, you couldn't help but feel like maybe you were developing this unspoken friendship with him? You weren't even sure. You felt this sort of understanding with him, even though you didn't understand him at all.

"Oh, I mean, yeah. Still haven't found anything for him," you shrugged as you pulled the chicken that was done from the pan to lay it on a paper towel lined plate. "But... I don't know. I'm not hating the process as much anymore. He's gotten nicer."

"Oh really?" She sounded so surprised, which didn't shock you. You had talked a lot of shit about Harry to your mother.

"Yeah. We went to this awful place a couple days ago, like, literally falling apart Mom. I almost fell through the fucking floor!"

"Oh my god," she gasped, listening intently as she refilled your own wine glass that was sitting beside the stovetop.

"Yeah it was bad," you shook your head.

You never experienced a house that bad without knowing it beforehand. Usually if they are that messy you would get a heads up from the seller's realtor. It left you feeling a little embarrassed, to be honest, that you took Harry there without knowing first. You would have expected a buyer to be annoyed at that, because it was a waste of time after all. But he didn't bat an eye. He didn't seem to mind - at all.

"But he was really good about it," you continued. "He actually eased me, instead of vice versa. That never happens. We ended up grabbing dinner after."

"Hmmmm," she hummed. "Sounds like there is more to him than just being a dickhead after all," she repeated your previous choice of word back to you with a raise of her brow.

"Maybe," you laughed. "I mean, he still doesn't know shit. But I guess I'm just going with the process now? I don't know. I just hope I can find it for him."

"You will, honey. Don't doubt yourself. He wouldn't still be working with you if he didn't have faith in you, right?"

"Yeah," you considered her logic. "You're right."

"I know," she smiled. "Now is this almost done? I'm withering away to nothing here." She bumped her hip into yours with a loud, infectious chuckle that had you giggling right along with her.

It wasn't until a couple hours later, after lots of food and conversation, that you checked your phone where it had been sitting abandoned on the kitchen counter while your mom was entranced with some house remodeling show.