Miss You (Harry Styles)

Chapter 26

Harry

My father starts the engine, and we drive down the road listening to a David Bowie album. I lean my head against the window and lightly close my eyes since it's a 90-minute drive to Miranda's. I drift off to sleep and awaken by my father tapping my shoulder.

"We're here, grab a box," he says before walking out to the front door. I rub my eyes and look around the suburban neighbor. The houses were tremendous compared to my father's or mother's house. What job does Miranda have, and how much is she getting paid? Still astonished by the house, I grab a box and meet my father inside.

"Hey, Dad, where do you want these boxes?" I ask, noticing two women: the older one Miranda but, the younger about sixteen years old. I thought Miranda's daughter was thirteen; she obviously isn't. Her lack of clothing makes me avert my eyes.

"Right there is fine, come meet your future stepmother." I roll my eyes not liking the sound of that and place the boxes down by the front door.

I walk towards Miranda; she's beautiful and has surprisingly youthful skin considering she's my father's age. If I didn't know better, I would have mistaken her and Melanie as sisters instead of mother and daughter. Miranda is different than the women my father typically dates in many ways: she's a woman of color, American, and she's a higher paying job than him or her family's rich; otherwise, she wouldn't be able to afford this house by herself. I'll admit I enjoy seeing him with her. His other girlfriends were pretty much the same in every way. I'm glad to see him with someone who will push him to work harder and improve himself. I've been trying for years to make him ask for a raise at his old job, but they fired him before he got the courage too. I heard she's the one that told him to do that at his new occupation. My dad is someone who means well; he just needs to be pushed in the right direction sometimes.

"You must be Harold nice to meet you. I'm Miranda." Her teeth beam my way as I pull my hand out. She ignores it and pulls me into a bear hug. I quickly wrap my arms around her, wanting this embrace to come to an end.

"It's Harry, actually." The only person who calls me that is my grandfather. I corrected him so many times that I eventually gave up and got used to him calling me, Harold.

"And that's my not so dressed daughter, Melanie." I turn to her daughter, who rolls her eyes at her mother's comment. I'm assuming she didn't know we were coming or didn't care. Melanie's lips stay in a soft pout as I look her up and down. Her shorts slightly raise due to her moderately thick thighs. She isn't skinny, but her waistline is average. It's her hips and legs that will make her fit the curvy body type. Her brown, almond-shaped eyes express some discomfort. Yet, she's captivating in every way. I adore her kinky locks tied up in a ponytail and the way she wiggles her toes while awkwardly standing here, desperately wanting to leave.

"Hey," she finally speaks and twiddles with her fingers while biting her lip. I find her mesmerizing, she's beautiful, and I can tell she's pure at heart. I casually nod, trying to downplay my attraction to her.

"Melanie, why don't you show Harry where the guest room is." She sighs and rolls her eyes again, annoyed with her mother, and tells me to follow her. We walked up the stairs, but it didn't help that I could see up her shorts a little. She tries pulling them down as we walk up the steps, but still parts of her underwear peaked through.

"Here's your room, have fun," she bitterly snaps. I'm guessing she's not happy about the engagement nor us moving in. I put my bag on the neatly made bed with a black blanket and take a quick look around the olive-colored painted room. I wonder if Miranda will let me repaint after the wedding.

Bored with my room, I sneak over into the bedroom next to mine. The pastel purple walls and stuff animals would make me believe this room belongs to someone younger, but the posters of Tupac and Aaliyah tell me otherwise. I look at the pictures above her dresser, one with her mum when she was about ten years old and another with a blonde girl and shaggy light chestnut hair guy hugging her, this one was taken recently. I believe they're Melanie's friends. She looks delighted in both pictures. Her smile is gorgeous; too bad I haven't witnessed it in person. I start to take a peek into her drawers, curious to see what I'll find.