CW: sugar daddy ceo harry x pa!yn. hella yearning but a rich af harry who wants to spoil his baby! there's a little bit of violence so be warned!! minors please dni!!! ENJOY!!
WC: 12.7k
Read part one here.
PREVIEW:
This should have rubbed him the wrong way… it should have stopped him from entering his card details on the website and paying an extra forty dollars for gift wrapping and an extra two hundred dollars for overnight delivery.
But it didn’t. It was like his fingers moved on their own accord when he purchased the item and wrote out the small note he wanted her to have. The man could only hope Y/N didn’t take his gesture the wrong way, though he was unsure if there was any other way to take it. He hoped she saw where he was coming from; hoped she didn’t get offended and send the parcel right back to the post shop.
His doubts were eased when he came into work that same afternoon after the conference him and Mitch had attended and Y/N seemed painfully normal. Maybe even a bit happy, if Harry’s own eyes weren’t betraying him. She was chippier than usual—she looked nicer today as well, sporting one of Harry’s favorite items on her which was the matching pink skirt and blazer set she wore very rarely. Her hair was down and her cheeks matched the shade of her lapels…
She was always very beautiful, but today she was pretty.
Most of the day today comprised of her, Mitch and Harry locked up in his office brainstorming ideas, and fuck, he was finding it hard to cocentrate on anything apart from her scent which quite literally invaded all of his senses. She was driving him nuts and he was sure she had no idea of it.
Harry was always a very calm and composed man.
Having been in a prestigious leadership position from such a young age, he had to learn how to adopt to every sort of situation, no matter how uncomfortable or awkward it may be. Countless events, interviews, deals, meetings he would attend where someone would say the wrong thing that rubbed him the wrong way, and Harry was forced to hold his tongue before his brain caught up with him. Usually, he’d give the other person a cold stare, followed by a soft warning, or if they were superior to him somehow, like he was closing in on a deal and really needed the other person on his side, the most he would do was clear his throat and move past the topic as quick as possible.
Very rarely did he ever lash out at someone. The last time he did something close to that was when Jerry insulted Y/N right in her face, like she wasn’t another human with real feelings and emotions. Like her idea wasn’t actually genius and a massive hit when it was sent to Analytics the following morning. Like she was disposable—which in reality, most of his PAs have been, considering they didn’t last more than three months under Harry’s nit-picky demands. But still, that gave the man no right to treat Y/N like she was nothing but garbage. If Harry was being honest, that day, after a long time, he truly felt what it was like to have his blood boiling.
He only knew Y/N for a very short time, but (by whatever fucking miracle) she earned a soft spot in the heart of the otherwise cold and estranged CEO. Maybe it was because she was just sweet—eager to please and well-spoken. Or maybe it was because Harry, no matter how much he prided himself in being emotionless and not the relationship type, was developing a little (fat) crush on her.
Now this took a lot of guts for him to admit, so it shouldn’t be taken lightly. Harry almost never had crushes on people. Sure, he would think they were cute—he wasn’t going to deny a bit of eye-candy every now and then. He could appreciate a good-looking person. But it usually just stopped there. Never running below the surface—always skin-deep. This time, he didn’t know what it was about her (and he was too scared to explore any further) that made him feel borderline obsessive. She consumed his senses; most days, being the first person he looked for when he entered the office building and the last person his mind went to before he went to bed.
Heck, she was starting to show up in his dreams at this point. Most of the time, they were weird—like her and Harry would be riding unicorns into the sunset or fighting alien gorilla warriors (don’t ask him why, he has no idea what goes on in his subconscious). But what was weirder was that she was there, invading his every thought, asleep or conscious, and her fucking scent lingered in his office and then his clothes all the goddamn time, and it was driving him nuts.
He hated feeling this way.
It was like he was in shackles, and the key was in her hands, which she dangled right before his eyes like she was taunting him. And maybe in a way she was; surely she knew the effect she had on him. She was around him for eight hours a day, and she was normally a very observant girl, from what he learned working with her (the first time Y/N brought Harry his morning coffee, he took the lid off before drinking because he hated the sippy-cup they served it in, and ever since that once, he never had to take a lid of himself—she’d serve it to him just how he liked, without a single word about it exchanged between them). There was simply no way she hadn’t caught on to his schoolgirl crush. If not, she’d have to be the most oblivious person in the world.
Nevertheless, he was tired of this helpless feeling. He wanted to take matters into his own hands and get back control of the reigns. Not knowing how things were going or how they would turn out was Harry’s biggest nightmare, and he just couldn’t bear to live like this anymore.
So his solution (which he only gave about eight minutes of thought) was to offer her the arrangement. Hear him out for a second… he thought maybe his itch could finally be scratched if he just fucked her. Surely this whole crush thing was only happening because he wanted her in his bed… surely just having her in that way would make the pain go away. It would be just like a business arrangement—a give and take. In return for her body, he’d spoil her as much as she wanted. Frankly speaking, Harry had money to burn. Mountains of it, just accumulating with no true purpose. And Y/N was a girl with needs. She did tell him she was really desperate for the job because she worked at a shitty underpaying cafe, so she would appreciate this, right?
It was worth a shot, Harry decided. If the conversation didn’t go how he wanted it to, they could pretend like nothing happened and they would move on. Harry would just fuck Sophie instead and maybe that would satiate his needs (he knows it wouldn’t, but he literally cannot accept that right now because he needs this to work out. There was no desire to ever go through with plan B).
And if that kiss in his office meant anything to her, she had to at least give it some thought and consideration.
Typically, Harry was never much of a kisser. He thought it was too intimate—it introduced too many emotions between two people. The kiss was always the central, pivotal moment in almost every rom-com he ever watched. Meeting each other’s lips, tasting each other, holding each other—it always held so much meaning, and if there was one thing Harry avoided in any romantic relationship, it was meaning. He just didn’t have the time or capacity to give it any priority in his life.
But kissing Y/N was different. Maybe it was because he was thinking about doing it for a long time—ever since he first laid eyes on her, if he was being truthful. How could he not? She was pretty, she was smart, she was funny. She was obviously very good at her job. That was why he kissed her. It was more of a token of appreciation. At least that was what he told himself. And when she licked into his mouth and whimpered like that…he just couldn’t think straight. She’d single-handedly sent all of his nerves into haywire—his system was completely fried.
Now what Harry didn’t expect was to see Y/N wrapped up in another man’s arms the second he stepped out of his office to make the said offer to her. And that moment was precisely when he felt all the calmness and composure evaporate from his body within seconds for the first time in his life. He really had no right to feel that way—Y/N wasn’t his. A single kiss didn’t have to mean anything to either of them but fuck—it did to Harry. It meant way more than he would ever admit. He wondered how people could live like this; giving another person the power to control how they felt, how they acted… he never thought he would be in that position.
But here he was, watching the one girl he actually liked kiss her boyfriend, while he stood and watched like a sad puppy. For a second, he was wordless. His brain this time couldn’t catch up with him at all. Probably because this was something Harry seldom experienced… jealousy.
It took the two of them parting and smiling at each other for Harry to finally use his tongue. The boy was stuffing an obnoxious bunch of flowers into Y/N’s hands and was just about to say something (probably) sickeningly sweet to go along with it when Harry’s voice sliced through the air, “What’s this?”
The couple broke apart abruptly and Y/N looked at Harry with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. Her face was bright red, and in any other circumstance, Harry would find that endearing, but right now, he couldn’t think straight. Not when that twat kept his arm around her waist possessively, like he was scared the girl would be snatched away from him. Luckily, they were in Harry’s fucking building, so when Y/N stuttered, “Mr Styles! This… this is my boyfriend, Landon. He was just stopping by t—”
He could say things like: “Let’s keep the theatrics outside the office, please. I need to see you privately. Sheila will escort him out.”
His tone was hard and borderline rude—it wasn’t like him to speak to her like that, when he was normally softer, more understanding. Harry didn’t like being this way, but something in him at that moment just didn’t sit right. And that something was this newfound hot, raging, jealousy.
The boyfriend—Landon—opened his mouth in protest but Harry didn’t stay to hear any of it, turning around and storming back into his office to page Sheila. He could see through the glass Landon and Y/N engaged in a heated conversation, and for a second she felt him looking and locked eyes with him, an unreadable expression on her face. Harry busied himself with his computer, clicking and typing emptily at a random email he pulled up and pretended to read. A few seconds later, Y/N (and that fucking haunting scent she carried) slowly crept into his room.
She was fiddling with her hands. Her face was riddled with guilt—what for, Harry didn’t exactly know. Putting his unreasonableness aside, he could at least admit that she didn’t do anything like, extremely wrong. Harry knew she was in a relationship when he kissed her, he knew she was in a relationship when he decided to ask her to be his sugar baby.
He just didn’t care. Which is an awful thing to admit, he knows, but he had to give her the benefit of the doubt. Y/N wasn’t at fault. And there should be no reason for her to stand before him looking like that; like she’d committed a horrible crime and Harry was going to deliver her a sentence.
Despite all this, Harry remained stoic.
“I’m so sorry, Mr Styles,” She started, “I didn’t know he was coming. I would never had let him come all the way up to my desk like that. And…and I guess I shouldn’t have kissed you either. It was a m—”
“The report from Analytics is ready.” Harry cut her off, schooling his expression into one of professionalism. He was a businessman through and through—he knew how to handle himself (or that’s what he told himself, anyway).
“Hmm?” Y/N appeared genuinely befuddled. She met his gaze. “About your internal suppliers proposal.” Harry said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world—it should’ve been really, since she was the one who sent it off to the team to be evaluated. She must be way out of sorts if she couldn’t keep up with him; normally, she was always two steps ahead.
“Oh, right. How did it, uh— how did it land?”
“Good. You and I are going to present it to the board next month. We need a presentation, opening and closing speeches and stats. This is big, Y/N.” Harry said. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, “Me? I’m going to be presenting to the board?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I’ll be there with you.”
It took a few seconds for the gravity of the situation set in—Harry watched as she went through about five different emotions—confused, scared, worried, happy and then finally, excited. A big smile stretched across her pretty face. “This is huge, Mr Styles. Thank you so much! I won’t let you down,” She exclaimed, akin to a puppy he just told could go for a walk in the park. Her joy was so contagious, Harry almost forgot the inner turmoil eating him alive. Almost.
Instead, he hummed, trying to look nonchalant; like he didn’t want to just grab her and kiss her again, tell her to break up with her boyfriend and become his spoiled plaything. “Mitch should be back next week from Taiwan so he’ll be helping us prepare for this.”
“Thank you,” She said, one more time. Harry felt his heart race as he drank her in—her hands were crossed sincerely behind her back, face tinged slightly pink from adrenaline. Her lips were still graced with a grin and her eyes were sparkling.
She looked beautiful.
“And I’m sorry. About Landon. And… earlier.” Y/N broke him from his trance, taking a step closer to his table. Harry didn’t let his face falter—he didn’t want her to think the kiss meant anything more to him than it did her—call him immature, but it was his first time dealing with emotions like these and he didn’t really know how to navigate them.
“It’s fine. Just keep your personal life and your work life separate. What happened was obviously a mistake.”
The words tasted sour on his tongue as he uttered them out loud; each one stabbing his heart separately. He didn’t believe anything he was saying, yet he said it anway, all thanks to his big fucking ego he couldn’t get over. The impact of them landed right before his eyes, as he noticed Y/N look almost hurt, but she was a smart girl, so she immediately wiped the look off her face. She set her lips in a straight line, “Yes, Mr. Styles.” She said, understandingly.
When Harry murmured, “Good. I’ll send you an email with all the details for this presentation,” And diverted his attention back to his screen, Y/N took that as her que to nod and leave. And just then, with the weight of her presence finally leaving his space, did Harry release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His heart pounded in his chest—a feeling so unfamiliar to him.
He cursed the moment he let his feelings get in the way of this otherwise very professional relationship and forced his fingers to type a real response to this email he was staring at uselessly for the past twenty minutes.
-
From the eight billion souls that graced this place that Y/N was able to call earth, there were about five people in total whose opinions she truly cared about. Who she knew that if they were ever to say anything critical to her, it would never be from hatred or animosity. These five or so people, Y/N fully believed, were the sole people she could trust with her life. Two of them being her mum and dad, one, her baby sister (who had the most brutal opinions, which hit so close to home sometimes, Y/N has to actively remind herself they’re coming with good intentions), her childhood best friend Zita who she only saw every two or three years since she lived on another continent, and Niall.
Y/N wants to say she’s known Niall for years, and they bumped into each other in high school and have been inseparable since—or they were sandpit besties, having grown up together in diapers—but none of that was true.
Even though they might act that way with each other, given they were incredibly close, both emotionally and lowkey physically (because Y/N was just a touch starved thing and Niall was a massive cuddler), anyone who was introduced to both of them could never believe they only met about fourteen months ago when Niall first started working at Bluebird.
He was very reserved when he first started—he barely spoke to anyone, kept to himself, always came on time and he was exceptional at his job. Unlike Y/N, he was actually happy working at Bluebird and he was saving up to get into a good culinary school. This information, of course, Y/N only sucked out of him after about three weeks of quiet, awkward shifts where neither of them talked much and just robotically did their closing tasks like the other didn’t exist.
Well, Y/N did try to talk to him in the beginning—she asked him about uni, his previous work place, tried to make conversation about the weather and how bad traffic was that morning but he would give her half-assed replies, humming here and there, maybe mumbling some words of approval or disapproval but she never got a good conversation.
That was, until one night all the girls from the cafe decided to go get drinks after a crazy closing shift. They were having a crazy week anyway, and Mina was constantly talking about how she finally wanted to get completely fucked out of her mind because she was so tired; so that night, they threw all reason out the window, got in Mina’s little van and drove downtown to a nifty rooftop bar that was all the rage.
About three drinks in, Y/N realised Niall was a fucking lightweight.
That was the first time she saw him utter more than seven words in a row to a single person that was not a customer, and Y/N was completely taken aback. Niall was a different person entirely when he was drunk—when she brings up that pivotal night now, he says it was his alter ego that came out that night and just never left ‘cos it loved sweet Y/N too much.’
He was talkative, flirty, very touchy and very emotional. Y/N went out to let off some steam and have some fun dancing with her girls that night, but she ended up glued to Niall’s side, because apparently she was the only one he trusted when he was ‘vulnerable and broken’ (his words, not hers) listening to him talk about his ex work mates who always made fun of his accent behind his back and made him feel insecure about talking to customers.
Things got out of hand, and Y/N was a very confrontational drunk, so when he told her this, she was right ready to go to his old restaurant and give them all a hiding. And this did wonders for sensitive, touched Niall, who teared up like she pepper sprayed him and held both of her hands to his chest, telling her how she was so special to him, how he always liked her but was too shy to say anything because he didn’t want to be bullied again.
The night took an emotional turn, so they both ended up getting in the same uber and going home and the next Tuesday when they saw each other for the opening shift, things were very much the same. Niall was chatty, witty, funny, touchy and sweet, and after a few weeks of convincing him the others were not going to talk bad about him behind his back, he opened up to the rest of the girls too.
That was precisely how the two of them became best friends, and how Niall wormed his way into Y/N’s heart. He was one of the most treasured people in her life, and he felt the same way too.
Which was why when he found out Landon was in town, he basically spammed Y/N’s phone with texts in all caps yelling at her to bring him ‘round to the cafe so they could “casually” meet and Niall could give his opinion on him—which is currently not that great, if Y/N was being honest.
The first problem was that Landon didn’t really know Y/N was friends with Niall like that… he always got jealous when she had male friends, and if he knew how close the two were, he would literally throw the biggest fit known to mankind. The other problem was that Niall disliked Landon to a great great degree. Y/N told him everything about her relationship—Landon’s conservative nature, his possessiveness, his desire to wait till marriage… and sadly none of that sat right with Niall. From the getgo he’d been telling Y/N she could do so much better than him but Y/N just never had the balls to do anything.
But maybe seeing him in person would change what Niall thought about him…or surely it would make his opinion just a tad bit sweeter.
Niall
im literally dying to see u
Y/N hearted the text and rumpled her lips, tucking her phone into her back pocket as Landon squeezed her hand in his. She was oddly very, very nervous about this—she wasn’t a very good actor either, so she was worried she won’t be able to hide her friendship from Landon that well, but she had to give it her best. He must have sensed the nerves coming off of her like radio signals because he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, “You okay? Who texted you?”
Trying to appear nonchalant, Y/N gave him a reassuring smile, “Just my mum. Hey, this is where I used to work!” She tried to segway into the bit, slowing her step hen she reached the familiar path that lead down to the cafe. Landon raised his brows, “Charming,” he mumbled, eyeing the shop from the outside. His tone was weird and it was giving back-handed, but at this point Y/N was so used to his little gestures she didn’t say anything. “Let’s get a coffee, yeah? I need to use the toilet anyway.”
“Can’t we just go down to the mall? There’s this game you can only get at PopMart and they only have one—”
“Landon. Please,” Y/N tried to reason with him. She gave him her best ‘bored and over-it look’ and didn’t bother hearing his dumb protests before she tugged his arm into the cafe. The familiar scent of cinnamon chai and fresh croissants invaded her senses, the comforting blue and white stripped wallpaper and oak seating making her feel right at home. She spent so many hours holed up in here just dreading to leave, she never really got the chance to have a good look and admire it for what it was.
From behind the counter she noticed Niall’s familiar frame—his back was turned to them while he whisked a drink, and Y/N had to use the little bell by the tip jar to get his attention. When she did, he gave her a small, knowing smile.
So far, so good.
“Y/N! We haven’t seen you for ages!” He exclaimed, recognition glinting in his eyes. Y/N gave him a grin, “Niall, hey, how are you?” Her tone was slightly rehearsed, but she hoped Landon wouldn’t notice how robotic she sounded to herself.
“Great, thanks, how are you? Is this your boyfriend?”
Of course that’s what he says.
Niall wasted no time—getting right down into the dirty business. This is what he was pining after her for, so he had to get his money’s worth. Y/N gave him a pinched look—one that said “I’m going to kill you the second I get the chance too” and turned to Landon, who was standing there silently like he didn’t realise there was a conversation happening.
“Oh, yeah, this is Landon. Landon, this is Niall. We used to work together.” She was anxious as she introduced them, looking between the two with worried eyes. Niall gave her a quick look, his eyebrows dipping just for a fraction of a second. “I can tell, Y/N,” Landon started, holding his hand out for Niall to shake, “Nice to see ya, man.”
Niall gave him a polite smile and shook his hand over the counter. Y/N was watching him closely, trying to pick up on any more hints about what he thought but he was doing a good job at schooling his expressions. “You too. So, are you just visiting?”
“Yup.” Landon nodded.
He didn’t say anything further, apparently ending the interaction right then and there. Just like Y/N expected (but hoped didn’t actually happen), the air turned awkward as her and Niall had a silent conversation with their eyes. Right off the bat, it wasn’t hard to decipher he wasn’t vibing with whatever was going on with Landon. “Can I… get you guys anything?” He spoke up, lips pressed in a thin line. Landon narrowed his eyes as he read the menu behind the counter, “Uhh… I’ll have a flat white, please. Y/N?”
“Hot chocolate?”
“Skim milk for her.”
Great. This was going just swimmingly.
Y/N was used to Landon’s rude comments but obviously Niall wasn’t, and he didn’t take this one well when his eyebrows dipped angrily. He looked right about to pop off at Landon when Y/N suddenly spoke up, “Yes! Skim milk for me. You know me, Niall.”
She gave him a look, her pupils wide and mouth agape. Niall appeared moments from jumping over the counter and pouncing on Landon, but hopefully Y/N’s pleading gaze would hold him back.
“Coming right up.”
His tone was dry and to the point. Y/N ended up paying and Landon took a seat down the far end of the store, and Y/N took the opportunity to pretend to slip away to the bathroom when she actually just wanted to talk to Niall. He didn’t waste any time seeking her out—right as Y/N turned the corner past the kitchen door, Niall wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her inside the small, quiet toilet.
“Who the fuck is this fucking guy, Y/N?” He whisper-yelled. He looked genuinely disturbed—concern overcoming his features as he searchd her face frantically, “Like I knew your boyfriend was fucked but this is something else. This is some Jake Gyllenhal from All Too Well type shit.”
Y/N sighed. Deep down, she knew he was right, and she knew he was coming from a good place. Maybe this is exactly what she needed to take that step she’d been wanting to take for so long. Maybe this will finally push her over the edge and she will break up with Landon like she’s been wanting to for the longest time now.
“I know. I know, he’s terrible.”
“Terrible? He’s like, the worst!”
“I’m going to break up with him.” She said, finally.
Niall looked relieved.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Because I happen to know of a hot CEO who’s pining after you—who you’ve kissed, by the way—who would jump at the opp—”
“This isn’t about Harry,” Y/N replied. This was a lie. Even if it wasn’t completely about him, it had a lot to do with him, anyway. A huge part of the reason she doesn’t feel the same way about Landon is because of that kiss with Harry… and the dinner… she hadn’t felt so cared for and so heard in such a long time.
“You keep telling yourself that.”
After that, Y/N’s phone began buzzing, and when she looked it was Landon wondering what was taking her so long, followed by him cursing her ex-workplace because they took ages to get their drinks. Y/N and Niall scurried away and apart. He busied himself with brewing coffee while Y/N took a seat across an angry Landon. Every now and then her and Niall would lock eyes and she could only read the disappointment in his expression.
When they get their drinks and she bid a quiet goodbye to Niall, Landon leaned down and attempted to whisper in hear, but she’s sure at least four people (including Niall) heard what he had to say.
“What a fucking weirdo. You sure he isn’t gay or something?”
Something told Y/N this breakup was going to take a lot out of her.
-
Being back at the office gave Y/N the reprieve she desperately needed, after being attached to the hip with Landon the entire weekend. Having her head down and fingers busy typing away on her monitors was her favorite way to drown out reality and enter into workmode, where she could exist on another plane entirely. Her days were always packed—starting off with grabbing Harry’s coffee and muffin, going over his day and moving things around if needed, replying to his emails, taking his calls, scheduling flights, meetings, appointments—the lot.
When Y/N came in the following Monday, she thought things would be exactly like that. Business as usual. But when she greeted Harry with a smile on her face and a styrofoam cup with no lid wrapped between her fingers, she could immediately sense the vibe was off.
She noticed it in the way he avoided making eye contact with her, which usually was something he used to his advantage, knowing it made people bend and twist to his every command. Y/N tried to talk to him about swapping a meeting he had with someone for a dentist appointment which he was putting off for the past two weeks but even then his replies were minimal, and he basically told her to do whatever she thought fit as long as she kept him in the loop.
Which was so unlike Harry. He was a control-freak through and through—Y/N wasn’t allowed to move a single thing on his calendar without having at least a ten minute conversation with him but he was being weird so Y/N just didn’t say anything. And maybe she was being oversensitive and reading into the situation too much, but it hurt when he didn’t even tell her he was leaving when he went to get his lunch (which he didn’t tell Y/N to do for him like he normally did, by the way—another one of his weird antics of the day where he did whatever he pleased like she didn’t exist solely for his convenience).
Despite everything she busied herself with working on the board presentation due next month. The opportunity was a once in a lifetime one, and Y/N, when she first started at Grapejuice never thought she would be doing this. She was exchanging countless messages and emails with both Mitch and Harry, passing around drafts of the presentation and speeches she was responsible for, but nothing was sitting right. Maybe it was because of Harry’s limited input—he resorted to mainly reacting to all the texts with thumbs up or thumbs down and Y/N was going nuts tying to decipher his intentions.
Things only got worse when during a quiet moment on Wednesday while Harry was in a meeting, Y/N went down to the communal kitchen to make herself a hot drink. The day was bringing on a headache, and Y/N’s thoughts bounced from work, to Harry’s behaviour, to having to go back home to Landon, and to Niall’s constant texts asking if she’d broken up with him yet and if not, when she was planning to do it. So it was safe to say that Y/N was in severe need of a quick break.
She walked in to find Logan waiting by the microwave, scrolling mindlessly on his phone, though he shut it and put it in his pocket when he saw her coming, “Y/N, hey.”
Y/N gave him a tired smile and grabbed her favorite yellow mug and settled it under the Nespresso, “Hey Logan, how are you?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you but you’re always so busy…”
He paused, interrupted by the microwave beeping. Y/N waited curiously to hear what he had to say as he turned to open the door and carefully pulled out a bowl of what looked and smelled like cottage-cheese pasta. He set it down on the counter to cool, “You were saying?” Y/N reminded him.
“Are you alright?”
Her brows dipped. Why would he ask her this? Did she look not alright?
“It’s just… Sarah told Becca who told Mika who told me that apparently your boyfriend came to surprise you at your desk and Mr. Styles called security on him and was like… jealous?”
“What?”
“No, it’s like…it’s not like that, like I don’t mean to worry you or like be a tattletale—I’m genuinely concerned, like are you alright? You…you seem a bit stressed and I don’t know if Mr. Styles is maybe taking something out on you, he’s been on edge all we—”
“Please stop talking.”
Her heart was near racing out of her chest.
If there was one thing Y/N hated the most in the world, it was being talked about behind her back—be it good or bad, she just hated the thought of being discussed while she wasn’t there to know how she was being perceived… and now knowing that technically the whole office knew of Landon and Y/N and Harry’s little performance last week… Y/N couldn’t do this right now.
“I’m sorry, hey, I don’t mean this in like a bad way, I’m only concerned.”
“I’m a grown woman, Logan, I can look after myself. Thanks for your concern, but I don’t need it right now,” With that, she left her cup, forgotten on the Nespresso and briskly made her way back to her desk. Maybe her tone was slightly rude, but she couldn’t find it in herself in that moment to care—there were a million things racing through her mind and neither of them were reasonable. She knew she wasn’t thinking straight enough to have a proper talk with Harry, but she felt like if she didn’t do it now, she’d never find the right time again. She didn’t want to loose her momentum.
Thankfully, the client he was meeting with was stepping out of his office the same time Y/N stormed in. She gave him what she thought was a polite smile but she probably just looked crazy as she whizzed past him and entered Harry’s office. Clicking the lock shut, she attempted to gather the newfound courage she discovered to say the words she was memorizing the whole way up here.
“Y/N? What’s wrong?”
He was standing this time, rummaging through his file drawer probably because he had too much of an ego to call for Y/N and have her locate what he was looking for. Concern overcame his features as he turned to face her fully.
Y/N cut right to the chase. “Why are you punishing me?”
“What?”
She took a step closer. It was a challenge, keeping her emotions and thoughts in check but Y/N was a professional—she could maintain herself, especially when it came down to her self-respect. “You’re—you’re ignoring me, you’re not replying to me in full sentences, I’m trying to get this presentation sorted and you’re literally blowing me off. You won’t look me in the eye and you won’t treat me like I exist so I’m just wondering, Harry—Mr. Styles, why are you punishing me?”
Harry sighed. Y/N noticed as regret and confusion clouded his eyes. She would give anything just to glimpse into his mind and know even a drop of what he was truly thinking instead of trying to pick apart his facial cues.
“That’s not… that’s not true.”
“It fucking is! You’re being so weird it’s thrown me completely! I don’t kno—”
“That’s not what’s happening. I’m not punishing you, Y/N. At least, I don’t mean to.”
He set down the file he was holding and went to lean against his massive oak desk. She noticed how he fidgeted—cracked a knuckle and ran his thumb against the side of his nose like he did when he was nervous (which he seldom was, but Y/N observed him a lot and kept track of all his little quirks, and this was one she thought was particularly adorable but she would never admit that).
“Well it sure as hell doesn’t feel like that.” Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest, “Listen, I don’t know what personal vendetta you’ve got against me—I can handle a moody boss, but when people start noticing and gossiping about it—that’s when it becomes a real problem.”
“Gossiping? Who’s gossiping?”
“That doesn’t matter! Just…just tell me what I did so I can apologise and we can go back to normal. Was it the kiss? Was it Landon? Are you mad I did—”
“Stop that.”
“---Then what is it, Mr. Styles!?”
“I’m sorry.” The words were quiet—Y/N barely heard them over the sound of her racing heart.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” He started, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being weird and I’m sorry for not replying to you properly when you ask about the presentation. I’m sorry people have been talking and I…I’m sorry for kissing you. That was a boundary I should never have crossed. This isn’t your fault. None of it is.”
Pretending like his words didn’t impale her like a steel plated sword, Y/N swallowed the knot in her throat. She could feel her own face get red hot with anger and adrenaline. She knew herself the kiss was a mistake but hearing him say it somehow hurt even more than she thought it would. Nevertheless, at least his apology soothed her nerves a little bit. At least know she knew he wasn’t mad at her per se… he seemed only frustrated with the situation, but Y/N didn’t blame him for that. She was sort of in the same boat.
“I crossed that line with you. I’m not completely innocent, Mr. Styles, but you can’t punish me for a crime we both commited.”
“Yeah. I was being unfair to you, and I’m sorry for that.” Y/N could tell the words were tough for him to say. He looked like he was actually in pain—a pinched expression on his face and a big furrow in his brows. She could only imagine what it was like for him; a wealthy CEO having to apologise to his very broke PA for his behaviour. The power dynamics were clearly imbalanced but Y/N admired how he didn’t pay it any mind and apologised to her with what she could only call sincerity.
There were a few seconds of silence as they both watched each other—the slight rise and fall of Y/N’s chest falling in sync with Harry’s own breathing. There were so many words left unsaid; sheathed in the heavy air of his office, never to see the light of day. If only either of them had the slightest bit of courage, and the storm in both their hearts could be tamed.
Alas, they remained standing quietly, both too afraid to say how they truly felt.
“We’ll go over your presentation at four. I can help you however you need.” Harry finally spoke up.
Y/N tried to smile, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. She knew there was more she wanted to say but she just couldn’t figure out what and how to do it. It was like her heart was in staccato—unable to form a single, coherent thought.
“Right. Thanks.”
With that, Harry gave Y/N a curt nod which she took as her cue to leave the heated room. As much as she was glad the conversation was over and out in the open, she couldn’t help but replay both his and Logan’s words in her head over and over again. The bit about Harry being jealous, him admitting to acting weird and saying the kiss was a mistake… God, she felt like such an idiot. This is why the number one rule when having a corporate job was to never mix business and pleasure. Her life was a whirlwind of bad choices and endless drama due to one fucking mistake she made.
Sighing, she settled at her desk to find her forgotten yellow mug sitting by her laptop. The cup was still warm, so whoever left it there must have just missed her—and next to it was a note on a pink post-it.
sorry
- L
She crumpled up the piece of paper and got back to work.
-
The next morning, Y/N was up earlier than usual.
She wasn’t in much of a hurry to get to work anyway, considering Harry had a conference to attend at 9AM with Mitch where despite her asking a million times if they needed her to come, Mitch insisted he could sub her just fine. They didn’t need a third person to tag along, seeing as they were only gone for about two hours before arriving back at Grapejuice for the monthly Senior Leadership Meeting. All this meant she could take her time getting ready in the morning, maybe even have a better breakfast than a banana and a granola bar and even go for a jog if she could manage it.
Thankfully, Landon was still fast asleep when she crept out of the house at six in the morning with her running gear on and her headphones tucked into her shorts. Dealing with him was something she just couldn’t do at the moment—there was so much stuff on her plate—so much shit she needed to sort through before she could think about her current relationship and what would become of it.
She started off her jog while on the phone with Niall, who yapped her ear off and begged her to get the breakup over and done with. Y/N filled him in on the events from yesterday and everything that went on between her and Logan and then her and Harry. Of course, the only thing Niall deduced from the whole conversation was that Y/N and Harry were fated soulmates and this was the universes’ way of bringing them together—create tension between her and Landon, add a sprinkle of jealousy rumors and then—bam, you’ve got yourself a perfect love story.
What was funny was that Niall sincerely believed everything he was saying was true, and somehow he even got poor Y/N thinking he might have a point. But then she would hold that thought right where she caught it and reel herself back in—she was living a real life. This wasn’t a book or a movie… no one sat writing her plot and making sure everything fell into place perfectly. If that were true, surely things wouldn’t be as hard as they were for her.
The rest of her jog was uneventful apart from her stopping to admire a pair of swans and then take a picture of the sunrise. By the time she was home it was only forty past, so she still had ages to go before she had to get ready for work.
However, her steps slowed outside her door when she noticed a large parcel laying on her welcome mat. It was wrapped up with white twine and the paper was that satisfying material she only saw in expensive gift stores.
Confused, she picked it up, only to realise it was surprisingly lighter than she expected. There was no note or anything—no sort of ID with her address on it, or hint where it came from which puzzled her even further. She silently snuck into the house and noticed that Landon was still asleep—at least she wouldn’t have to deal with his thousand questions about the mysterious parcel, the answers to which even she did not have.
She couldn’t remember having ordered anything online in the past few weeks… and she hadn’t signed up to any of those monthly subscriptions which delivered food or makeup or whatnot to her doorstep every couple of weeks, so she was truly befuddled as to what was inside it.
Carefully she took a small knife and made a cut along the seams of the parcel. She didn’t know what was inside and she didn’t want to risk breaking it or tearing it just in case she would have to return it to the post office, since she was 99% sure this was probably just like a mistaken delivery or something. Slowly, she undid the intricate folds of the paper.
Under the wrapping was a white card, which was tucked into the middle of a pool of silky, red fabric. Y/N’s eyes nearly buldged out of her eyeballs. The garment was smooth beneath her fingers—like water from the stillest river. Merely feeling it beneath her skin told her it probably cost more than her whole month’s worth of wages, and then some.
She turned the note over first to try and get a hint about what it was and where it came from.
I hope you can forgive me.
H.
Y/N didn’t have to read it twice to understand what exactly was going on here. Within seconds, everything was clear as day to her—this parcel was from Harry and the dress was some sort of token of apology… which shouldn’t make Y/N feel the way it was currently making her feel.
This was almost like a bribe.
He was buying an apology from her… but it just didn’t feel like that. She knew that was how she should feel… but she didn’t. She liked this. It made her feel wanted—like Niall was right and Harry truly was pining after her. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself but this had to be way out of PA and boss relationship bounds, right? Surely this was rule number two in the PA and boss relationship handbook—Don’t buy your PA expensive gifts to try and win her over after an argument.
Her heart and brain were entangled in a web of chaos and bewilderment—Like most things in her life as of recently, this made no sense to Y/N. Yet, she still set the card down and lifted the garment out of the box.
An audible gasp escaped her parted lips.
It was a long, floor-length dress with a slit that went all the way up her right leg to mid-thigh. The fabric was just as she felt it—silky and dreamy; something which could only be produced in the bestest of factories using the richest of materials. It had a drapey, heart-shaped neckline and thin spaghetti straps that would sit delicately on her collarbones. Y/N could already picture herself wearing it, with her hair done up and jewellery to go with it… the dress looked so out of place at her small little flat she was almost embarrassed just to be holding it up.
She was snapped out of her daydreams when she heard shuffling coming from inside her bedroom, followed by a call of her name. “Y/N! Are y’still home? Can you bring me a coffee, cupcake?” Landon was awake. Y/N tried not to roll her eyes to herself as she responded, telling him she would be right there with him.
She was unable to hide her glee, though, having to bite her lip to prevent her mouth from spreading into the biggest smile ever. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever gotten her—she should want to give it back to him—want to tell him it wasn’t necessary; but the thought surprisingly never occurred to her. Somehow she believed she really earned this, after what the man had put her through the past week and a half.
Silently, she put the dress and note back under the wrapping paper and slid it in the cabinet over her fridge where she knew Landon would never look. This would have to be her little secret—if Landon found out, he would literally flip his shit, and Y/N couldn’t afford another one of his mental breakdowns. So, she kept her excitement carefully tucked away behind a giddy grin and put a pot of coffee on.
Somehow, work had just become the most exciting part of her day.
-
When Harry was picking out what dress to buy for Y/N from the YSL website, even he wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking.
Harry was a grown, experienced man—he had seen his fair share of the world, so he knew exactly what the whole ordeal looked like—like he was trying to bribe her into forgiving him. Like he was trying to buy his way out of the situation he found himself in. This should have rubbed him in the wrong way…it should have stopped him from entering his card details on the website and paying an extra forty dollars for gift wrapping and an extra two hundred dollars for overnight delivery.
But it didn’t. It was like his fingers moved on their own accord when he purchased the item and wrote out the small note he wanted her to have. The man could only hope Y/N didn’t take his gesture the wrong way, though he was unsure if there was any other way to take it. He hoped she saw where he was coming from; hoped she didn’t get offended and send the parcel right back to the post shop.
His doubts were eased when he came into work that same afternoon after the conference him and Mitch had attended and Y/N seemed painfully normal. Maybe even a bit happy, if Harry’s own eyes weren’t betraying him. She was chippier than usual—she looked nicer today as well, sporting one of Harry’s favorite items on her which was the matching pink skirt and blazer set she wore very rarely. Her hair was down and her cheeks matched the shade of her lapels…
She was always very beautiful, but today she was pretty.
Most of the day today comprised of her, Mitch and Harry locked up in his office brainstorming ideas, and fuck, he was finding it hard to concentrate on anything apart from her scent which quite literally invaded all of his senses. She was driving him nuts and he was sure she had no idea of it. The only time either her or Harry acknowledged the present he sent her that morning was when Mitch excused himself to take a call, and they were both left alone in Harry’s office.
There were a few moments of just the tapping of their keyboards—no words exchanged between the two. Harry could practically hear her thoughts racing as she occasionally looked at him over her screen, biting her lip like she was contemplating when to say something and how to say it. He saw her resolve snap right before him as she gently folded her laptop slightly and spoke quietly, “Thank you. For the dress.”
Having not prepared for a situation akin to this at all, for a moment, Harry was at a loss for words. It took him a second to recollect himself, but when he did, he cleared his throat and met her eyes.
“T’was my pleasure.”
As if on cue, Mitch walked in right after and the moment was gone, both Harry and Y/N staring intently at their computers like the answer to the universe was just sent to them and they were the last humans left to decipher it.
“What’d I miss?” Mitch asked, clapping his hands together.
Both Harry and Y/N replied in unison: “Nothing.”
The rest of the week was spent exactly like that—Harry, Mitch and Y/N working closely together and spending majority of the day just rewriting speeches, researching and looking at different variations of bar graphs, pie charts and flow charts. As much as he loved drowning himself in his work (and being trapped in a room with Y/N (and Mitch, he guesses)), the presentation was taking a lot from him—sure he’d presented to the board heaps of times before, but this time was different—this time, the change was massive. Switching to internal suppliers like Y/N suggested would flip the whole corporation upside down, so it was very important that everything they said had a purpose and contributed meaningfully.
At the end of the day, Harry was human, though, and humans needed breaks. He had to convince his mind and body that there was a life outside the four walls of his office and he was capable of thinking about other things apart from how many charts was too many charts and what color coding looked serious enough to be in a presentation this big.
So, Harry and Mitch, after one drawn out, draining Friday spent fretting over the closing speech which he was responsible to deliver, decided to go out and get some drinks to ease their nerves. The bar they went to was one which was quite popular in the city—often he would see students gathered there in bunches on the weekends, making noise and dancing on the makeshift dancefloor, but the drinks were good and the music was nice so Harry didn’t pay them much mind.
They went after work so they dressed down by ridding their blazers and untucking their shirts so they didn’t look out of place. Harry rolled his sleeves up to his forearm, which he now rested on the table casually as he nursed a drink between his ringed fingers. Conversation with Mitch was always easy—he’d known the guy for most of his life, having basically grown up with him. They went to the same high school and the same college—they were roommates back then, and living in such proximity really tells you a lot about the other person even if you didn’t ask for it.
He liked Mitch, though. He was smart in all his classes and a little bit quiet but Harry wasn’t bothered by that. He liked a bit of peace and silence, and besides, if he ever did want to get Mitch chatty, all he had to do was light a blunt and the rest was history. Of course, they haven’t smoked in ages now but they frequented the occasional drink or two.
The night was going just as they had planned. Harry got to think about something else since Mitch went on a spiel about this girl he was seeing who he wasn’t sure if she was as into him as he was her. Harry thought he gave pretty good relationship advice so he spewed out some wise words for Mitch—some bull that he didn’t even lowkey believe but people dug whatever he said so it was fine. Harry wouldn’t know if any of his relationship advice was any good himself, since he never had to use it for his own advantage.
But maybe he could put it to good use now, Harry thinks, when he noticed a special someone walking into the same fucking bar he was in.
It genuinely felt like he couldn’t escape her. She was always on his mind, constantly, even when he didn’t think she needed to be; she was always around at work with her sweet fucking voice and tantalizing perfume; she was in his dreams, for God’s sake, and now she was here. On the arm of that fucking cunt she called her boyfriend.
Harry hated that guy. He hated the way he waltzed in with a big smile on his face, like he was rubbing it in every guys face that he had the prettiest girl in the world by his side. He hated the way he held on to her, so possessively that his knuckles were basically white from his grip. And he hated the way he could do things Harry couldn’t, like kiss her on top of her head when she wasn’t noticing as they seated at a small booth on the far end of the bar.
Mitch must have noticed too because he pointed her out, “Isn’t that Y/N? Who’s she with?” He muttered the last bit to himself mostly as he looked at Harry with question. Harry didn’t meet his eyes, finding the ice swimming in his glass eons more interesting than what was going on, “Her boyfriend.”
“How do you know that?”
“He came in last week.”
Mitch made a long sound, like he just realised something, “Oooh. That’s the boyfriend.”
Harry cleared his throat, “Yeah. Now what’s this about Sarah being in a band? How’d you even meet her?”
He changed the topic swiftly, not wanting to think about or look at Y/N and Landon sitting all cute and cuddly in the bar right in his eyeline. The universe must be testing him or some shit, because Harry’s blood was quite literally boiling in his veins. He cursed himself for his fucking luck—the one time he tried to come out and get his mind off things and the one girl he couldn’t stop thinking about walked right in like she owned the place.
About half an hour passed of Harry and Mitch discussing Sarah and then Harry’s whole situation with Sophie when he saw Y/N get up out of her booth and walk towards the restrooms. She had to go past him for that, and as she did, not only did Harry get a whiff of her scent (which made him feel like a fucking dog, the way he was ready to roll over for her just to get another one) but she made eye contact with him. She was stunned at first, but then quickly masked her emotions with a small smile as she acknowledged both Harry and Mitch.
The moment stole the breath from Harry’s lungs, and he felt like he was living in a telenovella with how he was romanticising every interaction with her. He had to get out and get some air—the bar was beginning to get suffocating and he felt like he was trapped in a room and was being tortured by being forced to watch Y/N and Landon act like they were all in love and shit.
So, he softly excused himself from Mitch and made his way outside. Mitch thankfully didn’t suspect anything, since he himself could see how Harry’s face was a bit red. He probably thought it was the drinks and warm atmosphere that drove him outside but that worked perfectly fine in Harry’s favor. Even though apparently people were talking about him and Y/N in the office, he didn’t need Mitch butting in as well, and querying Harry about whether the gossip had any substance to it.
The night air had a chill that nipped at his already rosey cheeks. To his far right stood a bouncer who leaned against the wall and smoked a cigarette. Harry pulled his phone out to see if he could distract his mind but it was full of work emails he had to reply to and reminders he set for all his deadlines. He scrolled mindlessly through Instagram and liked a story his sister posted of a bagel spot she was trying and it actually looked really good—he swiped up to reply and ask where she got i—
“You fucking pervert.”
Harry heard the words first and then saw the fist flying in his direction but he didn’t react fast enough to miss it. A loud, nasty thwack sound erupted from his nose as Landon’s fist collided with it, making Harry’s head go back and hit the brick wall he was up against. For a second he was completely disorientated. His phone slipped from his hand and his fingers came up to swipe beneath his nostrils where they came back with blood.
The fucker just punched him right in the fucking face.
Harry was going to loose his shit. He practically saw red clouding his vision as Landon geared up for another hit, “You wanna stare at my girlfriend’s ass you fuckface?” All reason flew out of the window and Harry was now blinded by anger and his ego which wouldn’t let him go down without a fight. He didn’t waste another second in delivering a strike to his jaw which resulted in a gnarly crack sound.
Landon fell back on his butt and looked at Harry with wide eyes. The sight was one he would have laughed at if blood wasn’t streaming down his nose. He resembed a spanish fighter bull the way he charged towards Harry, probably to try and tackle him to the ground but the burly bouncer who stood a few metres away ran over and grabbed Landon before he could do anything.
At the same time, he could hear Y/N calling Landon’s name until she eventually stepped out as well. Her mouth fell open in shock as she took in the morbid sight before her. She couldn’t settle on who she wanted to look at—Harry, with blood covering the bottom half of his face, or Landon, who was thrashing in the arms of the bouncer and yelling profanities at the man. The bouncer had to drag him away and Y/N looked like she was at a loss for words.
“What the fuck did you do?” She asked Harry, voice cold. There were tears in her waterline as she traced his features with her soft gaze.
“He punched me.”
Harry sounded unrecognizable to himself. It felt like his voice was coming from somewhere outside of his body and he couldn’t locate from where. He called after her when she stormed off in the same direction as the bouncer and Landon. Harry wanted to go after her and explain what happened because he couldn’t bear the thought that she might be angry with him, but he was stopped in his tracks when he heard Mitch call his name.
He turned to face his concerned friend. “What the fuck happened to you?”
Harry sniffled. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”
–
When Y/N and Landon decided to go out, she didn’t think her night would end up like this.
Her feet were pounding against the pavement as she ran after where the bouncer was hauling Landon out of the bar and on the sidewalk. Her boyfriend (embarrasing, she knows) was screaming and cussing, some directed towards the bouncer and most directed towards Harry (she has no idea why). Although Harry looked really hurt with the blood dripping down his nose, Landon looked worse; he had a massive bruise already forming on his jaw and his mouth was bleeding—when he parted his lips to talk, she saw how the blood smeared across his teeth.
The bouncer ended up dropping him on the footpath a ways from the bar, warning him that he wasn’t allowed back inside under any circumstances. Y/N finally caught up to them and stood towering over Landon, who was sprawled out on the ground like an upside down insect. “Y/N, baby…” He coughed.
“What was that?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice cool and collected even though she was anything but. She was fucking angry but she didn’t say anything just in case Landon tried to bend the truth into something he thought she wanted to hear.
“T’was your boss… he’s a fucking pervert,” He paused to spit out a glob of blood and saliva, “He kept looking at you like you were a piece of meat.”
“So you hit him? You assaulted my boss because he smiled at me?”
When he spoke, his words were slurring together, signalling he was not in the right state of mind at all. He was drinking a lot inside as well, so to some extent Y/N should have anticipated this. “Why are you getting mad at me!?” He yelled, trying to get up on his feet, “D’you wanna fuck him too, is that what this is about?”
Y/N scoffed in disbelief, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Landon, and I suggest you stop before you say something you can’t take back.” The wind whipped her hair around her face and Y/N looked up to see clouds forming, foreshadowing the rain she clocked when she checked the weather app earlier today.
Landon laughed dryly, “I fucking knew it. You want to fuck your rich boss. That’s why you’re always begging me to have sex like the horny bitch you a—”
Before he could finish the end of that horrific sentence, Y/N slapped him across the face. The impact was hard enough that he fell back against the pavement again and cussed her out. In that moment, Y/N felt no love or remorse or regret or anything towards the piece of shit lying at her feet before him. He was an awful man and she knew it from the start—it only hurt that it took her so long to do something about it.
“You’re disgusting. Don’t come back to my house and don’t fucking call me again. We are done.”
With that, she turned and began to walk away. Behind her, she could still hear him yelling, “At least get me a fucking Uber you dumb bitch!”
But she ignored him and crossed her arms across her chest. The bar wasn’t far from the train station which she could take home so she headed in that direction. She would have called herself a ride but her phone was dead and besides, her head was a fucking mess of thoughts and emotions and her vision was blurry with tears which pooled in her waterline. Y/N was a smart and capable girl; she knew his derogatory words had no real meaning or anything, but she still let them get to her. He hit her right where it hurts; targeting her self worth and her self respect because he knew she treasured both those things the most.
To dramatise the moment even further, droplets of rain began falling from the sky and drenching her clothes. It was already cold out and the rain had no reason to hold back—it hit her with full force, each tiny drop felt like pinpricks on her heated skin. Her teeth began chattering as the rain and her tears mixed and trailed down her face.
She was just about to let it all out and ugly cry when a familiar sleek, black car rolled up right next to where she was walking. She slowed her step as it began following her gait and stopped when the window rolled down on the passenger side. “Let me drop you home, please.” It was Harry, and his tone was soft and his car was probably nice and warm and soft too. Y/N didn’t have it in her to put up any more of a fight—the night had taken too much out of the poor girl.
Wordlessly, she pulled the door open and sat inside. Harry already had the seat warmers on and the heater was on blast, granting her comfort and solace. His car smelled nice and there was low music crooning through the speakers. “I’m sorry about what happened,” He started, putting the car into gear as he began to drive. ‘I’m sorry’ seemed to be the only thing people were saying to her as of recent and it was kind of making her go crazy. She just wanted things to be normal again. When her life became such a mess, Y/N had no idea.
“I’m the one who needs to be apologising. My boyfriend was the one who assaulted you. Well, ex-boyfriend now,” She muttered, running her hands over her face. Harry looked like his ears chirped up, eyebrows raised as he turned to glance at her, “You broke up?”
“Five minutes ago, yes.”
Harry hummed, turning his blinker on to change lanes, “I would say I’m sorry about that too but I don’t think I am.”
Y/N had to giggle at that, swiping a thumb beneath her eye as she wiped a tear, “Yeah, don’t be. It was a long time coming.” She took in his side profile—he was beautiful, like he always was—the moon casting light over half of his face as he stared intently at the road ahead. He was toying with his bottom lip with his left hand and driving with his other, and she noticed the spot beneath his nose was clear—he wasn’t bleeding anymore.
“How’s your face?”
“He didn’t do much damage,” Harry said, biting back a grin. He looked at her to find her gaze already set on him and the gesture made Y/N blush and look away. “That’s good.”
The rest of the ride was full of silence and stolen glances. Having been to Y/N’s house before, Harry drove without any assistance which was impressive since he’d only ever been there once. Though no words were said aloud, her mind was still racing. Every now and then a tear would fall from her eye and Y/N would try to mask it though she didn’t think she was doing a very good job. She wasn’t upset about loosing Landon, if she was being honest… It was his words that kept stabbing her in the heart over and over again.
She kept thinking about what he said and wondered if any of it was true—she knew deep down she was worth so much more than what he thought, but he’d planted an annoying seed of doubt in her heart and she was unable to dig it up and chuck it away.
They stopped after the fifth song ended, like it was waiting for the car to match its tempo. Y/N didn’t want to leave the confines of his car. She knew the thought was weird and borderline pathetic, but she’d just been through a messy breakup and she just wanted someone to talk to and lean her shoulder on, and the rational part told her that Harry was 100% the worst person for this (he was her boss, lest she forget) but the irrational side (the one she preferred) wanted to ask him up to her house for a slumber party of some sorts where he could comfort her all night long.
Sadly the former part of her won this particular argument and Y/N turned towards Harry with a sad expression, “Thank you for the ride. You didn’t have to do this.”
Harry had his lip between his teeth and he watched her earnestly. She probably looked a mess with her red-rimmed eyes and mascara streaking down her cheeks so she got a little insecure when he looked too long and turned her own gaze away.
“I’d do it a hundred times over if I had to.”
His words brought on a fresh wave of tears—why did he have to be so thoughtful and perfect and say exactly the right thing at the right time, Y/N didn’t understand. He was so exceptional, Y/N often reminded herself how lucky she was to be working with him in such close proximity everyday. However, she didn’t let those tears fall, setting up an imaginary dam to hold them back. Instead, she gave in to her irrational side and leaned over the console to give him a hug.
Her clothes were drenched and she was very cold, so the hug couldn’t have been as nice as she wanted it to be but she paid that thought no mind, because Harry was hugging her back. His massive arms came up around her shoulders which he pressed to himself, tucking her cold nose into the warmth of his neck. His scent was intoxicating—some cologne that she had to somehow find so she could spray it on her pillows because the comfort it was bringing her right now was out of this world.
When they broke apart she gave him another smile and muttered a small thanks before finally leaving his car. Harry stayed parked by her house until she was safe inside and her lock clicked shut and when she heard him drive off, the dam broke and all her feelings came gushing out like a fucking tsunami.
–
The coming Sunday, Y/N was swaddled beneath her duvet with Niall consoling her on facetime.
The night of the breakup, he was the first person she called when she got home and gathered herself enough to charge her phone and dial someone. Within twenty minutes, he was at her house with a tub of ice cream and two sets of clothes, already anticipating that he might have to stay a while to get the girl on the right track. They spent the next thirty-six hours watching comfort films, then Y/N would vent about her feelings, then Niall would try to come up with a solution to her problems (which always resulted in ‘fuck Harry’) then she would nap her tiredness away.
Turns out crying all the time really tuckered someone out, especially when the reason to cry was so fucking brutal. When Y/N told Niall about the shit Landon was saying, he was ready to find his ass and kick him to the curb a second time. Even repeating them to her best friend had her choking up, and it took a lot of reassurance from him to convince her even a little bit that what he was saying had no semblance of truth to it—it all came from a place of anger and hatred.
Those hours spent tucked into Niall’s side were what finally got Y/N out of bed and doing shit like cleaning her house and doing her laundry which she’d been putting off for the longest time now. Today, she planned on going to get some groceries when he called her just to check in but Y/N was doing heaps better so he didn’t seem too worried. Though he did offer to come over again, Y/N politely declined because she didn’t want him to get in trouble at work by calling out so much—that too at her expense.
So, she bid him goodbye and let him get back to his shift when the sound of her doorbell ringing forced her to drag herself out of bed. She checked through the peephole but no one stood outside, so she swung open the door. On her welcome mat was another parcel similar to the one she received a while ago with the dress sent from Harry.
Something told her he had something to do with this one as well as she bent down to pick it up. Excitement flooded her nerves. Y/N shut the door behind her and set the parcel down on her counter. This one was slightly smaller in size than the last, but Y/N had no complaints—she knew whatever was inside would most definitely take her breath away, if it was anything like the last present (?).
Carefully, she took a small knife and undid the seams. A velvet, rectangular jewellery box was sealed inside this time, making Y/N’s eyes go wide. If it was jewellery, Y/N couldn’t even imagine just how much it probably cost the man. Her hands trembled slightly as she clicked open the small golden latch and opened the box.
Within it revealed the prettiest necklace Y/N had ever seen in her life; it was gold, with a delicate chain in the middle of which was nestled a small, tear drop pendant. She didn’t have to deduce much to come to the conclusion that the pendant was a diamond—she could tell by the distinct twinkle and shine which erupted from it. Her fingers traced the piece in awe.
She couldn’t believe he would do something like this. The dress was a shock for sure, but a diamond necklace? That was just absurd. Did Harry really have money to burn like this or was there a bigger conversation that needed to be had between the two? This time, Y/N was worried about whether she should be accepting such a divine gift at all.
When she found the familiar card hidden beneath the box, all apprehension left her body as butterflies began fluttering in her stomach.
The only teardrops that belong on your neck are made of diamonds.
AN: BEHEHHEHEHEH YAYYYYYY I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS ONE!!! if you did please please do let me know leave replies reblogs send asks because IT MOTIVATES ME TO WRITE MORE!!! ALSO ARE U GUYS SEEING HOW FAST I WROTE THIS OMFG I LOCKED TF IN BECAUSE ur girl wants to see if she can keep up a posting schedule if she ever decides to get on patreon TEEHEEE HEHE EJOY MY LOVES!!!! I LOOK FORWARD TO KNOWING WHAT U THINK!!
stepbrother!harry - in which Harry and you meet six months before your parents are married and there’s immediate sexual tension that neither of you have the power to resist but things are tricky and quite messy
Mint Chocolate Chip (Completed Series)
in which the attractive older man that frequents the ice cream shop you work at has been making dark plans for you and when he finally gets you where he wants you, you’re easier to break than he imagined - dark!Harry content
The Con Artist (Completed Series)
detective!harry x criminal!reader
You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you he finds it difficult to resist your charms.
Forgive Me, Father (Completed Series)
soft dom priest!harry x subby!reader
Harry is a priest with a dark secret but he's got a big heart and he's looking for someone special to share it with. When Y/n confesses her sins, he thinks she might just be the one.
The Arrangement (Completed Series)
sugardaddy dom!harry x subby!reader
Based on this request - Harry's wife proposes that he find a mistress to meet his needs in the bedroom as she is no longer willing. His wife has 2 rules: The first is that he finds a professional, and the second is that no feelings are to be involved. But both of those rules are thrown out the window when he meets Y/n.
A Good Boy (Completed Series)
stepson!harry x stepmom!reader (both adults)
Harry's got the hots for his young stepmom and she's pretty fond of him too.But they're both trying really hard to be good.Loosely based on this ask.
A Balancing Act (Completed Series)
this fic is commissioned by @cinnamonone (thank you!! xoxo): Y/n is a successful artist with a good head on her shoulders and Harry is a famous popstar in therapy. Navigating a relationship with someone as famous and adored as Harry isn't an easy task but Harry is desperate to make it work once and for all. famous!harry x plus size!reader
Just For Tonight (Completed Series)
this fic is anon commissioned (thank you!! xoxo): Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it? famous!harry x reader
The Unicorn (Completed Series)
Based on this & this. 3 part very mini-series. You nanny for the Styles, but Harry and his wife would like to offer you another position. Everyone gets more than they bargained for. dad!harry x nanny!reader
Can We Start Over ? (Completed Series)
this 5 part series is commissioned by @justfattiethings (thank you!! xoxo): From the first day you and Harry meet, your relationship is beyond complicated. A one night stand leads to hurt feelings and then a job opportunity that you simply can't pass up is offered. But can you handle working for a man like him? enemies to lovers
Ex-Boyfriend's Dad!Harry (completed)
Harry's your ex-boyfriend's hot dad. But it gets more complicated than just that.
Harry's your ex-boyfriend's hot dad. But it gets more complicated than just that.
It's Good to Be King | mean king!harry
Harry, a handsome, but ill-mannered new king, bound by tradition, must select a queen, and against all expectations, he chooses Y/n, a street beggar. Now, Y/n finds herself caught between the gilded cage of royalty and the cold, harsh simplicity of her past, navigating a court shocked by her presence and a king who revels in the scandal of it all.
The Amateur | ceo!sugar!daddy!harry x burlesque!dancer!yn
Y/n leaves behind her old life for a new one and lands a job as a burlesque dancer in Las Vegas. Things get off to a rocky start, but a handsome stranger offers her something that might just help her out.
*all masterlists are ongoing and based on requests
Stepdad!Harry
where you and stepdad!Harry have a very inappropriate relationship behind your mom’s back
Cop!Harry
Harry's a cop
Professor!Harry
Harry is your professor and he’s hot
Mint Chocolate Chip!Harry
Short Series turned into ongoing masterlist - in which the attractive older man that frequents the ice cream shop you work at has been making dark plans for you and when he finally gets you where he wants you, you’re easier to break than he imagined
Ghost!Harry
Creepy, horror based au. Usually updated around Halloween time
Priest!Harry (Forgive Me, Father)
soft dom priest!harry x subby!reader
Short Series turned into ongoing masterlist - Harry is a priest with a dark secret but he's got a big heart and he's looking for someone special to share it with. When Y/n confesses her sins, he thinks she might just be the one.
Sugar Daddy!Harry (The Arrangement)
Short Series turned into ongoing masterlist - Based on this request - Harry's wife proposes that he find a mistress to meet his needs in the bedroom as she is no longer willing. His wife has 2 rules: The first is that he finds a professional, and the second is that no feelings are to be involved. But both of those rules are thrown out the window when he meets Y/n.
Best Friend's Dad!Harry
An au that follows your illicit affair with your best friend's dad, Mr. Styles
Warnings: cocky Harry, some degrading, jealousy, a bit of angst, fingering and unprotected sex
(Based on the tweet below 🤭)
• • • • •
Harry’s large frame hovered over your own, your back pressed against the mattress that you knew so well. You could kick yourself for managing to end up here again, but you knew when he showed up at the bar tonight that this was going to be the result. What was even more fucked up was that you weren’t there together or with friends. You were there on a date.
Had you brought your date to that particular bar after dinner because you figured you would maybe run into Harry? Perhaps. It was a game you both knew how to play way too well. Tit for tat. Cat and mouse. You were always challenging one another in the midst of trying to move on from each other.
It wasn’t the first time he had caught you on a date with someone else since the two of you had broken up. This happened to be the third time. You had managed to stumble across him on a date twice, and you could curse the city that you lived in for being so small. It also didn’t help that you frequented the same places, even before you were together, so it was almost inevitable to run into one another.
“Is this how you expected your night to end, hm?” Harry spoke directly into your ear as his fingers plunged in and out of your soaked cunt. “Did you think it would be me touching you this way, or were you hoping it would’ve been him?”
You rolled your lips into your mouth to keep from making a noise in response to his interrogation. To be honest, the date had been lackluster, so you knew it wouldn’t have ended with either of you offering to take the next step.
“Not going to answer me?” Harry clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, starting to withdraw his fingers, but you quickly reached down to wrap your hand around his wrist while holding his eyes. “You don’t get them if you’re not going to talk to me. If you’re not going to play along.”
“This isn’t some fucking game, Harry,” you snapped with a shake of your head. “This has to stop. We can’t keep doing this with each other.”
His dark chuckle caused goosebumps to break out along your skin as he leaned down to press a kiss against your bare shoulder, considering both of you were completely naked. Both sets of clothing lead a trail from the front door to Harry’s bedroom.
“I don’t think you mean what you’re saying.” He let his digits enter you completely again before curling them against the spot inside of you that he could find without hardly any effort. “If you did, you’d pick places for your dates that would cause you to avoid me. You wanted to see me tonight. Admit it, baby.”
His mouth covered your own as his thumb swirled over your clit that was slick with your arousal, and you moaned while reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Harry quickly captured both of your wrists in his large, free hand, and he pinned them above your head so you weren’t able to touch him.
“I hate you,” you whimpered against his lips, and that drew another laugh from him.
“No you don’t. Not in the slightest. You still love me. This slippery, little pussy still loves my fingers and my cock. I think you hate that, but you don’t hate me.”
Harry didn’t give you a chance to protest as his tongue slipped between your lips, gliding it right against yours. You arched into him, your toes curling considering you were right on the brink of your orgasm. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, a direct sign that you were about to burst, but clearly, he had other plans.
“I hate you,” you repeated through clenched teeth when Harry actually took his fingers away from you this time.
“You miss me,” he taunted, as if he were correcting you.
A yelp flooded from your lungs as he quickly turned you over on the mattress so that your face was smushed into his pillows. He maneuvered you around, and put you right in the position that he wanted while reaching out to bind your wrists again with his hand. He positioned them along your lower back and slightly tugged, causing your back to bow.
His other hand wrapped around his hard cock, and he tapped the tip against your clit a few times before rocking his length back and forth through your slit.
“You’re teasing,” you panted as you tilted your chin down just a bit to get a better look at him.
Hunger and jealousy swirled in Harry’s eyes as he stared at you. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. “You’ve been teasing me for months since we broke up.”
“You’ve been doing the same. It’s all we ever fucking do.”
“Sounds to me like we’re going about this all wrong then.” He notched the head of his dick against your entrance before starting to push in. “We should try to find a solution, don’t you think?”
The stretch of him was blinding, and it caused your eyes to roll into the back of your head. Your fingers curled, resulting in your nails biting into the skin of your palms as your body opened up for him - just like it always did.
“What…what do you suggest?” He already had you breathless, and he wasn’t even fully inside of you yet.
“That we stop fooling ourselves. Stop running from each other. Our breakup was mutual, so why can’t we mutually agree that it was a mistake?” Although he had been so cocky tonight, you could hear how sincere he was in this very moment. “I don’t want anyone else but you, Y/N, and it’s pretty obvious you don’t want anyone else but me. We’re meant to be. Always have been.”
You knew he was right. More often than not, your thoughts journeyed to him when you were home alone. You wondered if he was with someone, or if he was alone, too. You hoped he was taking care of himself, and not forgetting his lunch at home like he used to until you started putting a post-it note on his keys when you’d spend the night - reminding him to grab it before leaving.
He consumed your mind more than you’d like to admit, but from the words Harry had just spoken, it sounded as if you had consumed him just the same.
“That’s what you want?” Your voice was strained as he bottomed out inside of you, and you felt the hand not restraining you pull your cheeks apart so he had a better view of you swallowing up his cock.
“It’s what I’ve wanted since the first time I saw you with someone else other than me. Seeing you with those other men, Y/N, it did something to me. I know I had no right to be a jealous bastard, considering you weren’t mine anymore, but fuck if that wasn’t what I became.”
“Then why keep this up? Why did you keep going on dates knowing that the next time you’d see me out, you’d have me in your bed?” Tears started to well up in your eyes, but you wished them away.
“I guess…I figured if you were determined to try and move on, then I deserved to do the same. I kept coaxing you back into my bed because if that’s the only way you’d let me have you, only for another night, then it’s what I would take just to be close to you again.” Harry’s lips sponged along your spine before he grazed his teeth at the junction where your neck met your shoulder.
His length dragged backwards against your walls before he was angling forward again, filling you delishly. Your mouth practically watered at the sensation, and you had to remind yourself that you were in the middle of a conversation.
“Then m-maybe we should try again.”
“Don’t say that just because you pity me.” The teasing tone of Harry’s had returned. “If you’re offering for us to get back together, you need to want it, too.”
“I do!” You exclaimed as he started up hard thrusts, his headboard banging against the wall. “I want to get back together. I don’t want to see anyone else anymore but you.”
Harry let go of your wrists, only to now collar your throat with his palm, and he brought your body up so that his chest was snug against your back. He kissed right below your ear before bringing his lips to the shell of it. “Then let me remind you what it’s like to be fully mine.”
• • • • •
Taglist: @daydreamingofmatilda @prettygurl-2009 @slutstachrry @lillefroe @gem1712 @lemoncrushh @namoreno @mellamolayla @idklilili @angeldavis777 @michellekstyles @triski73 @daphnesutton @harrrrystylesslut @giitterysuits @hannah9921 @withoutluv @fruity-harry @fangirl509east @babegoals @sassamanda77 @this-is-tiny-mia @2601-london @stylesftcher @harryyloverrr @haliastyless @rach2699 @gilwm (if you’d like to be added to my taglist, please DM me!)
She hates her security detail and everything it stands for. So if she’s going to be miserable she’s going to take everyone responsible for her safety down with her.
But then she meets the newest agent in charge of her protection: Harry. Harry has one job and that’s to protect her; it should be easy enough. How much trouble can a 24-year old student get up to?
Fan art by @tiredinwinter inspired by Part IV 🥹💕
Miss Wildflower and Harry’s ideal home
@harrysonlylover sent me this quote from Miss Wildflower
Head Above Water by Avril Lavigne (esp during Extra I)
Beneath the laughter of children, the comfort of family, and the familiar rhythms of home, Anna finds herself confronting the terrifying truth that the life she's spent four years protecting no longer belongs to her alone. And just as she's forced to truly face the impossible future waiting ahead, someone comes knocking.
Word Count: 13.9k
Chs. 1 - 11 (x)
The afternoon unfolded with the same quiet predictability it always had at the tail end of June. It was as if Mother Nature knew that school was out, and only then would it let summer settle heavily over the Wilson property. It lazily draped itself across the marsh, wafted amongst the pool and the weathered back porch like a well-worn quilt no one bothered to think twice about anymore.
The air carried the familiar scent of freshly maintenanced chlorine, newly cut grass, and the faint undercurrent of saltwater rolling inland from the river, thick enough to taste with a deep enough breath. Even in the late afternoon, the cicadas bellowed relentlessly from their homes in the trees beyond the fence, their chorus so constant it had long since become part of the landscape rather than a sound within it. Somewhere in the distance, a boat drifted lazily through the marsh, its engine humming low before dissolving into the afternoon. Nothing about the day suggested the world had shifted, yet yesterday had changed everything. The Wilson house, however, hadn't gotten the message.
The wood of the deck still baked beneath the Georgia sun until the boards were nearly unbearable to touch against the vulnerable skin of bare feet. The patio doors remained propped open to welcome the breeze that never quite came, only bringing a small burst of muggy air every so often. Inside, the familiar clatter of pots and pans echoed from the kitchen as Cici and Ollie worked toward supper, their conversation rising and falling beneath bursts of easy laughter and refilled glasses of red wine. Outside, four children turned the swimming pool into controlled chaos, shrieks and splashes ricocheting across the backyard with enough force to drown out nearly everything else.
Vivienne remained faithfully planted in what she'd long ago declared her poolside throne - a weathered lounge chair tucked beneath the lone umbrella that offered more wishful thinking than actual shade. She was nearly swallowed whole by a comically oversized straw sun hat, its floppy brim threatening to eclipse the already enormous sunglasses perched across her nose, the dark lenses wide enough to cover half her face. Auburn waves, left to air-dry after an earlier dip in the pool, spilled in loose and unruly ringlets down the length of her back. Each one caught the tail end of an occasional breeze before settling once more against overly sun-kissed skin. Every so often, she'd sweep the heavy curtain of hair over one shoulder with practiced indifference, only to smooth another generous layer of tanning oil across skin she'd already coated twice before. She was more than determined to chase a bronze that Tuck insisted she'd achieved three summers ago. Despite appearances, not a single thing escaped her notice.
"Lilly, baby, quit takin' big ol' gulps of the pool water. Oughta make yourself get sick drinkin' all that nasty chlorine," Vivienne called without so much as lifting her head.
She punctuated the warning with a lazy flick of her wrist before immediately redirecting her attention elsewhere.
"Cooper Wilson, don't you even think 'bout jumpin' off that railin'. And Charlie, sweetheart, scoot over and give your cousin some room. Blake, honey, use your arms… not just your legs."
The instructions rolled off her tongue with effortless rhythm, one after another, never hurried, never flustered. Somehow, between reapplying tanning oil, flipping the page of her magazine, and taking leisurely sips of melting sweet tea, she managed to keep a running inventory of every child in the pool without ever looking like she was trying.
Anna remained idle at her post along the deck railing, both forearms resting against the sun-warmed wood as she let it warm her skin with a slow ease. The heat had already seeped into the cedar hours ago, as the Georgia summer sun tended to get the earth and everything on it hot before noon. The railing was rough beneath her palms, though grounding enough that she found herself absentmindedly tracing the weathered grain with the pad of her thumb.
Below her, just a couple hundred feet away, the blue surface of the pool glittered beneath the relentless sun, its surface forever changing as each wave of water hit a new beam of sun. Every kick, every splash, every cannonball fractured the light into thousands of dancing shards that skipped across the water before disappearing just as quickly. The children moved through it in a blur of sunburnt shoulders, tangled limbs, and uninhibited laughter - each one somehow louder than the last.
Anna’s eyes found Charlie without effort, just like they always did. Charlie darted through the shallow end with the sort of confidence only children possessed. The kind of unwavering confidence only her child could possess. Just under 4, she obtained fearlessness in a way the world hadn't yet taught her not to be. She bounced from one game to the next without ever truly finishing the first, inventing rules as she went, squealing in protest whenever Cooper splashed her before retaliating twice as hard. Wet strands of brown hair clung to her cheeks and neck beneath the pacification of her glittered-pink goggles. Her swimsuit, a size too big Anna had noticed, began slipping crooked on one shoulder from hours spent climbing in and out of the water. Every few minutes she'd stop whatever impossible game she was playing simply to look toward the deck in search of something.
Searching for Anna. Which, ultimately, never took long to find. The moment their eyes met, only fleeting and in passing, Charlie's entire face transformed. She'd shot Anna that impossibly wide, gap-toothed grin paired with two engrained dimples on both cheeks. Anna grinned to herself, admiring how she’d just looked so much like…
She caught the thought before it finished itself, throwing a hand to her midsection as if she was trying to keep herself from the feeling of being sick. She lifted her free hand and waved, instead. Charlie waved back with both arms as though one simply wouldn't be sufficient enough, disappearing beneath the water again. She was perfectly content in the certainty that her mother was still exactly where she'd expected her to be as Vivienne flipped another page in her magazine.
There was something almost enviable about the ease with which Vivienne occupied her life. Not because it was perfect. Anna knew, better than anyone most days, that perfection was a myth mothers (and everyone else, honestly) told themselves to make the hard days feel less lonely and the shortcomings feel more trivial. Vivienne had kids who woke up before the sun did. She had a laundry-room filled with clothes that never quite found its way out of baskets. She had bills to pay, and a husband who somehow managed to leave every cabinet door in the kitchen hanging open before breakfast was over.
But, nonetheless, she had certainty. There was a quiet confidence that settled into the spaces between her movements. Anna had chalked it up to being born from years of waking beside the same man, raising the same children, building the same life one ordinary day after another. Tomorrow would look much like today - grocery runs, soccer practices, bedtime stories, and shuffling the kids from one activity to another. There’d be nail appointments scattered somewhere within there. On particularly eventful days, she’d meet friends for drinks or get a blowout. The entire family brood would barrel into Ollie and Cici’s house every Saturday for dinner, then every Sunday morning for breakfast. Just like they always did in the summers when time made itself available to do so. Cooper would keep trying to cannonball into the pool from increasingly dangerous heights. Blake would insist he wasn't tired long after rubbing sleep from his eyes. Lilly would still ask for more dessert after crashing out from a sugar high, like nobody noticed.
The shape of Vivienne's future had already been drawn. Its lines weren't always straight, but they were there. Anna couldn't remember the last time her own life had felt so clearly outlined, and it drove her to a place of desperate yearning for that corner of certainty. Yesterday had erased whatever blueprint she'd spent four years painstakingly sketching.
Every decision she'd made since Charlie's birth had belonged solely to her. And she wasn’t remiss to not acknowledge, in hindsight of recent events in this same backyard hours earlier, the selfishness of it all. Nonetheless, having full autonomy to carefully create the happiest, sheltered life for someone who became her entire life brought her peace. Every single routine had been hers to create however she saw most fitting. Every tradition, every boundary, every plan for next week and next year had lived quietly inside her own hands, untouched by anyone else's opinion. It had been exhausting at times, sure. But it always felt safe.
Now, for the first time in nearly four years, the future stretched before her as something unfamiliar. Not empty, but more crowded. There was another person standing at the edge of it now, and it wasn’t a stranger. Somehow, that made it infinitely more frightening. Harry hadn't simply reappeared in St Marys, he had suddenly forced himself into every tomorrow she’d already imagined.
“Mommy!” Charlie's voice sailed across the backyard, bright enough to cut clean through the steady chorus of cicadas.
Anna blinked once, yanked abruptly from the thoughts she'd been trying (and failing) to outrun. Charlie had climbed onto the second pool step, those pink goggles cinched so tightly around her head they squished her cheeks together and bunched her hair forward. Wet strands of knotted curls clung stubbornly to her jawline and forehead, dripping a slow trail of water down the tip of her nose. She pushed the goggles up at the foggy lenses with her pudgy fingers before immediately pulling them back over her eyes, oblivious to how crooked they'd become.
“Watch this one!” she called excitedly, bouncing twice where she stood as water sloshed at her ankles. “This one's gonna be my biggest jump ever!”
Anna couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Your biggest jump? No way!” she teased.
Charlie nodded with unwavering conviction. “Way bigger.”
“Well,” Anna laughed, pushing herself away from the railing. “G’head and prove it!”
Charlie beamed, reassured she'd secured her mother's undivided attention. She waddled backward through the water with all the confidence in the world before throwing both arms into the air. She proceeded to launch herself like a ragdoll from the step with an overly exaggerated squeal, tucking her knees far too to accomplish anything resembling a cannonball. She disappeared beneath the surface with a modest and face-first splash before bursting back up a second r, coughing through delighted giggles.
“Did you see?” She panted eagerly
Anna clapped dramatically. “I’m totally impressed, Lottie bean.”
“Was it giant?”
“It might've shaken all of Camden County… so yeah. That’s pretty giant.”
She spun around and immediately swam off toward Blake and Lilly, already chasing whatever game had captured her attention next. Already bored of whatever was holding her attention moments ago. Anna watched her sloppily swim off, the smile lingering for another moment before slowly softening into the abyss. Children had a remarkable way of demanding someone’s presence. Charlie never allowed her to stay lost in her own head for very long. She was still watching the kids bicker over whose turn it was to jump next when the patio door creaked open behind her.
“Looks like you could use one o’these.”
Anna turned halfway to her left as her father briefly balanced the patio door open with his hip, ice clinking gently against the sides of tall glasses with every measured step he took.
Ollie's voice was warm and familiar as he stepped onto the deck, the sun-drenched wood of the deck creaking slightly as his shoes shuffled against them. Pressed to his palms were two sweating glasses of sweet tea balanced carefully in his grasp, the damp glass eliciting beads of water to dribble down his wrists.
His tone had a way of always carrying the unmistakable cadence of coastal, small town Georgia. It was as though every syllable was softened by years spent beneath the same humid skies and sticky heat that raised him. It wasn't loud enough to compete with the children or the cicadas, nor did it need to be. Somehow, people always heard Oliver Wilson.
She accepted the glass without hesitation. “Thanks, Daddy.”
He offered nothing more than a nod of the head and a gentle smile, settling contently beside her against the railing with ease. As if he'd been standing there all afternoon. There'd never been much urgency to Ollie. At fifty-nine, he moved through life with the quiet confidence of someone who'd long ago discovered that very few things required immediate action.
The years had silvered more of his dark hair than not, though the stubborn streaks of black still clung to his temples with remarkable determination. His skin was delicately weathered, physical proof of decades beneath the unforgiving Georgia sun. It was as though he was permanently bronzed and lined in all the places a man who smiled often ought to be. Anna can’t remember a time where he didn’t have smile lines and a perfect tan, even as a little girl. Deep crow's feet fanned from the corners of warm, rich brown eyes that somehow always looked amused, even when he wasn't smiling.
And, as an evenly balanced contrast from his bride of 30 plus years, he'd never been an imposing man. Solid, definitely. Broad enough through the shoulders to look dependable rather than intimidating. His forearms still carried the quiet strength built from a lifetime of fixing anything he thought necessary, hauling coolers full of beer, mending fences, carrying grandchildren two at a time, and perpetually insisting he didn't need help doing any of it.
His faded, worn out University of Georgia t-shirt had seen enough summers to qualify as vintage, hanging loosely and raggedly over worn khaki shorts with a pair of weathered leather sandals that Cici insisted should've been thrown away sometime during the previous presidential administration. He refused. "They ain't broke," was always his defense. Cici’s response never changed. "They're held together by hope and duct tape, Oliver." He'd simply grin, promise to buy a new pair, and continue wearing the old ones for another year. Which bled into another year, then another. Anna smiled faintly at the familiar sight, the conversation gently ringing in her ear from memory. Some things in the Wilson family were simply permanent.
Ollie leaned comfortably into his forearms against the railing beside hers, the ice in his tea shifting as he took an unhurried sip. He wiped a splash of water from his top lip while neither of them spoke. Which was fine - they didn't need to. The silence between them had never been uncomfortable. If anything, it was a simple comfort that was never taken for granted. It was one of Anna's favorite things about her father.
Where Cici filled quiet with conversation, questions, and motherly concern that often bordered on overbearing interrogation, Ollie was a relieving opposite. He had always understood that silence wasn't something needing to be fixed or replaced. Sometimes it was simply another way people sat beside each other. Another way to truly relish good company.
Together, they watched Cooper forcefully launch himself off the diving board with spectacular overconfidence for a tiny-framed boy. The resulting cannonball drenched everyone within a ten-foot radius, copious amounts of water projecting to the area around him wherever it could manage to reach. Blake sputtered dramatically in horror. Charlie shrieked with delighted laughter. Lilly looked personally betrayed by the wave that sloshed over her pink floaties, her bottom lip jutting out as she readied herself to cry.
Without missing a beat, Vivienne lowered her sunglasses just enough to peer over the rims. "Cooper James Wilson."
"What?" He shrugged, lapping at water in place to keep him afloat.
"You know exactly what."
"I didn't even do nothin', momma! Swear it!"
"You soaked your baby sister."
“So?” He answered flatly. "I soaked everybody."
"That don't somehow make it better."
"It kinda does." He perpetuated. “Not like I did it to Lilly on purpose.
Vivienne sighed toward the heavens. "Ollie," she called without taking her eyes off Cooper, "would you kindly explain to your grandson why intentionally assaultin' your cousins and siblings with tidal waves ain't considered polite?"
Ollie didn't even look up from his tea. "Well..." He scratched thoughtfully at the gray stubble lining his jaw. "I reckon it depends."
Vivienne turned slowly. "Depends?"
"Mhm." He nodded toward Cooper. "If he'd announced the cannonball beforehand..." he mused. "Folks would've had a fair opportunity to prepare themselves."
Vivienne stared at her father-in-law in complete disbelief. "So your solution..."
"Manners."
Vivienne nodded curtly. "...is manners. Right."
"I've always found manners solve most things."
Cooper puffed out his chest triumphantly. "See!"
Ollie raised a finger. "Now hold on there, partner." The boy's grin faltered. "Cannonball's still against the law."
Cooper pressed on. "Who made that law?"
"I just did. It’s my house, pal. But..." Ollie added thoughtfully, "I suspect the punishment oughta fit the crime."
Cooper's eyes narrowed. "What punishment?"
Ollie pointed toward Lillie. "I reckon she gets the next splash."
Lillie's face lit up with absolute delight. "I DO?"
"You most certainly do, sweet pea. Knock it out the park!"
The three younger children descended upon Cooper with gleeful determination while he shouted about corruption and unfair government. Anna laughed - really laughed a genuine, guttural laugh - for the first time in days. The sound escaped before she realized she'd been trying to suppress it all afternoon. She felt the weight of Ollie’s stare shift its direction as he took a glance sideways at her. It wasn’t enough to make her self-conscious, but enough to get her to notice.
He smiled into his tea. "There she is."
“Who, me?” Anna looked over. “What do you mean?”
"Haven't heard that laugh since yesterday mornin'." He mused. “Couple o’ days, even.”
She looked back toward the pool, her smile fading only slightly. "I didn't realize."
He didn't elaborate or felt the need to press further and ask why. He didn't tell her she ought to laugh more and find the simple joys in life, much as she imagined her mother would drag on about that. He simply acknowledged it the way he acknowledged most things - with gentle observation instead of commentary. That was Ollie's gift.
He had an uncanny, unmatched ability to make people feel seen without ever making them feel examined. Like they were under a microscope. Anna had spent her entire childhood, and even some of her adult life, wondering how he'd done it. He'd been the same, consistent father whether she'd come home with straight A's or a speeding ticket. Whether she'd won awards or made spectacular mistakes. He celebrated quietly, corrected gently, and somehow possessed an almost supernatural faith that his children would find their way if given enough room to become themselves. He rarely raised his voice and rarely lectured. Anna could count on one hand when she’d ever been yelled at or patronized. And when reflecting back on any of those rare instances, sure enough, she more than rightfully deserved it.
Disappointment from Ollie Wilson had always carried more weight than anger ever could. Maybe that was why all three of his children still sought his approval well into adulthood. Not because he'd ever required it, but because he'd always made them believe they were capable of earning it. Anna had never quite outgrown that feeling and strongly doubted she ever would.
She recalled driving back into St. Mary's long after midnight, four years ago, every mile between Los Angeles and coastal Georgia having done nothing to quiet the dread clawing at her ribs. The trunk of her car packed to the brim, struggling to hold everything she'd managed to fit into it. The rest of her life, the home she’d known for the past few years, her friends, her business, the version of herself she'd spent years building, her relationship, had been left scattered nearly twenty-five hundred miles behind her. Every highway she'd taken east had only brought her closer to the conversation she'd spent days rehearsing and still couldn't bear to have.
She'd convinced herself of the worst, of every horrific outcome that hung over her head, long before she'd ever pulled into the driveway. She was sure that her father would look at her differently. She was sure that she’d turn up on the front porch, and all he'd see was the twenty-five-year-old daughter who'd left Georgia chasing big dreams only to come home heartbroken, pregnant, and alone. She'd imagined the disappointment a hundred different ways during the drive. All the questions, the silence, the quiet realization that she'd somehow become the cautionary tale at the hands of her mother. The same one she'd spent her whole life trying not to be. By the time she'd killed the engine beneath the old oak tree in front of the house, she'd sat in the driver's seat for nearly twenty minutes, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her hands had cramped, unable to make herself walk inside as she feverishly and poignantly wiped away away the wetness of a tear stained face.
The porch light had flickered on before she'd even opened the car door. And out stepped Oillie onto the front porch, clad in an old pair of plaid pajama pants and a ratty Braves t-shirt. Even his reading glasses were still perched crookedly on the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know she was coming. Anna hadn’t told anyone - Izzy, her mother. No one. Ollie hadn't even asked why she was home once she’d arrived. He hadn't asked why she'd shown up in the middle of the night with tear-stained cheeks, a flushed face, and half her life packed into the back of her car.
He'd crossed the yard without a word and wrapped both arms around her before she'd managed to say a single one herself. That’s when Anna had broken almost instantly.
She'd wept so hard she could barely catch her breath, apologizing between sobs for mistakes she hadn't even gotten to explain yet. Sorry for coming home, for leaving, for failing, for the baby nobody but Izzy had known about. Sorry for everything. Ollie had simply held her tighter, one weathered hand smoothing slowly over the back of her head the same way he had when she was little, until the words finally ran out.
"You ain't gotta carry this by yourself anymore, Annie-girl," he'd murmured into her hair, his voice steady enough for the both of them before placing a reassuring kiss to her hairline. "Whatever's waitin' for us inside that house, we'll figure it out together. You hear me? There ain't a thing in this world that's ever gonna make you too much for your mama or me. Not one thing."
It was the first time since leaving Los Angeles that she'd believed she might survive what came next. That moment reminded her of this one - Ollie standing next to her on the deck, readying himself to give her advice just as he did that night years back. He swirled the melting ice around his glass before taking another sip.
"You know," he said casually, eyes still following Charlie as she paddled determinedly toward the deep end, "I been thinkin'."
Anna smiled into her tea. "That usually means one of two things."
"Oh?"
"Either you've invented another project Mom's gonna pretend she isn't mad about..." Anna started, which Ollie met with a chuckle. "...or you're fixin' to tell me somethin' I probably don't wanna hear."
The corners of Ollie's mouth twitched. "See, not even big ole’ New York City can wrangle that last bit o’ twang outta you."
Anna let out a quiet huff through her nose, shaking her head as she looked back toward the pool. "Don't change the subject."
"I wasn't."
She laughed casually. "You absolutely were."
"Might've been just a little." Ollie admitted with a playful shrug.
She rolled her eyes affectionately, but the smile lingered another second before fading beneath the weight she'd been carrying since last night. The silence that settled between them felt different this time. It wasn’t awkward, but it undeniably leaned on the expectant.
As per usual, Ollie didn't rush to fill it. He simply took it as another opportunity to take a generous sip of his tea, his gaze drifting lazily across the backyard as Charlie paddled after Cooper with all the determination an almost-four-year-old could physically muster. Somewhere behind them, Cici laughed loudly enough to be heard through the open patio doors, followed by the unmistakable clang of a pot meeting the stovetop. Life carried on, and Anna hated how easily it managed to.
Her fingers tightened instinctively around the cool, sweaty glass in her hand, willfully letting condensation dampen her palm. She knew what was coming next. Subconsciously, she'd known the moment Ollie stepped onto the deck. And truthfully, she'd known the second she'd opened her eyes that morning.
There was no pretending yesterday hadn't happened. This was never going to be something she could tuck neatly into a corner of her mind to unpack a different day. Harry existed now in a way he never had before. He was no longer existing as a haunting memory she'd spent years learning to live around. And he wasn’t just Charlie's father as a concept anymore. He was tangible, present, and unavoidable. Whether she was ready to face that reality hardly mattered at this point.
She'd spent nearly four years making every decision alone. Every bruise, every bedtime regimen, every doctor's appointment, every birthday candle, every school drop-off or playdate pick-up. So far, they'd all belonged solely to her. Yesterday had completely dismantled that certainty.
And for the first time in a long time… Anna didn't know what came next. It was an unfamiliar feeling that she abhorred because she'd always had a plan. This time, she didn't even know where to begin. To calm the onset of jagged nerves, her eyes wandered to Charlie again. She looked so impossibly small in the middle of the pool, so blissfully unaware. Anna wondered how long she could keep it that way.
Beside her, Ollie remained patient as ever, never once nudging the conversation forward. He would wait all afternoon if she needed him to, even into the evening. Probably all week, if Anna chose. That was the thing about her father - he'd never force you to carry something before you were ready, but he'd never let you carry it alone, either.
Anna exhaled slowly through a rough breath, finally dragging her eyes away from the water. She glanced sideways at him, already finding him watching her with that same quiet steadiness he'd worn her entire life. It brought a general sense of ease that she didn’t know she needed.
"Alright," she murmured, resignation softening the edges of her voice. "We can rip the band-aid off, now."
Ollie chuckled as he angled his body to square her better. “Darlin’, I ain’t gonna talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. You know that.”
“Well if we don’t talk it out now, she will at some point.” Anna’s head nodded towards the screen door, the barrier between them and Cici. “Though I’m sure she already gave you every miniscule detail.”
“She talks a lot.” Ollie reveled through a grin before hushing his tone. “And I mostly do more noddin’ and less listenin’.”
She looked at him over the rim of her glass, one brow arching. "She knows when you do that, by the way"
Ollie only met her with a smug shrug of his shoulders. "I never said she didn't."
"Then why even do that?" Anna chuckled.
"'Cause sometimes folks don't need somebody listenin'." He smiled to himself. "They just need somebody to talk at."
Anna laughed again, fuller this time. "You're unbelievable."
"And yet..." he said, his grin widening. "She still likes me."
Their laughter dissolved as naturally as it had begun, disappearing beneath another eruption of splashing from the pool. Charlie had somehow convinced Cooper and Blake that the inflatable raft had become a sinking pirate ship. She barked out dramatic instructions from beneath those ridiculous pink goggles that had long since fogged over, her pudgy finger pointing frantically toward imaginary danger while Cooper argued they ought to abandon ship entirely. Blake, committed to the bit as ever, disappeared beneath the water with an exaggerated gasp as if he was sinking. Vivienne didn't so much as glance up from her lounge chair.
"If one of y'all actually starts drownin'," she called lazily, "do me a favor and make it look more believable."
Three tiny voices erupted into delighted protests. A smile loitered on Anna's face as she observed Charlie hurl her entire body into the game without any sort of hesitation. There wasn't a self-conscious bone in that child’s. She loved and laughed loudly, imagined even louder. Everything Charlie felt lived right there on the surface and she wore it all on her face. Even carried it in her little skips and walks. Anna both cherished and envied that.
Beside her, Ollie swirled the melting ice around his glass before speaking again. "You get any sleep?”
"Not really." She looked down at the condensation gathering around her fingers.
"No?"
"Maybe a couple of hours." A humorless smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "Every time I got close, it was like my brain found something else to replay on a loop and I was suddenly wired."
Ollie nodded once. "I figured."
Silence settled between them again. Not the easy kind they'd shared only moments before. This one arrived with purpose.
The laughter from the pool swept across the backyard in hurried bursts before melting into the steady hum of cicadas. Inside, cabinet doors opened and closed while Cici hummed absentmindedly through each meticulous task of conjuring dinner. The afternoon continued exactly as it had all day, bleeding into early evening, blissfully unaware that beneath its ordinary rhythm sat two people quietly circling a conversation neither of them had been eager to begin. Anna stared out at the water, following Charlie as she paddled after her cousins. She knew there wasn't much use putting it off anymore. If there was anyone whose opinion she trusted enough to hear, even when she didn't want to, it was the man standing beside her.
“I was up too late.” She shrugged. “Just… I don’t know. Thinking, I guess.”
The pads of Anna's fingers found the weathered edge of the deck railing, her thumbnail worrying absentmindedly at a tiny splinter where years of Georgia summers had begun to lift the grain. She peeled at it mindlessly, letting the grainy wood catch beneath her nail until it broke free in a paper-thin curl. She rolled it between her fingertips, staring at how it splintered even further, before dropping it to the deck below to meet the top of the grass.
Beside her, Ollie remained still. He wasn't watching the pool anymore. He was watching her. Anna could feel it without looking. She shifted her weight onto her other foot, crossed one ankle over the other, uncrossed it again. Her bottom lip disappeared briefly between her teeth before she let it go with a quiet sigh. The cicadas seemed louder now. Charlie's laughter drifted across the yard in bright little bursts, followed by Cooper declaring himself captain of whatever imaginary adventure had overtaken the pool.
Ollie waited another moment. He always had an incredible knack for patience. "What about?"
“If he got back…” she started slowly. “You know, wherever he was going.”
Anna hesitated. It felt ridiculous now that she was about to say it out loud. She scraped another loose piece of wood from the railing before sending it tumbling onto the deck, her eyes following it as though it were suddenly fascinating. Silence followed suit again, and she was taken by how she emud her mother in this moment - how the breaks and pauses between exchanges felt too unbearable to permit.
"Harry, you mean?"
"Yeah." Anna gave a single nod before swallowing. "I know it sounds stupid."
"It don't."
"I just..." She exhaled through her nose as frustration threaded through her tone. "His hotel's, what...forty-five minutes? An hour? He left so upset, and I kept thinking… Whatever. It’s dumb."
For the first time since assuming a spot beside Anna upon the deck, Ollie pulled his gaze away from her. Instead, it drifted toward the marsh beyond the trees. Thoughtful and unhurried.
"I'm sure he found his way back alright," he said quietly. "Boy's made a career outta findin' his way ‘round places that ain't home."
Anna nodded blankly, though it did little to settle the restless ache twisting inside her. "Yeah… I don't even know why I was worrying."
Ollie let the silence breathe for another beat before answering. "I think you do."
Anna's idle hand finally stilled against the railing instead of fidgeting with whatever her fingers could find. For the first time since yesterday afternoon, she allowed herself to consider what came after. In the wake of the argument, she allowed herself to acknowledge what after might look like. The realization settled low and heavy in her stomach.
She'd spent the past handful of years truly believing that if she could just make it through one more birthday, another Christmas, another doctor's appointment, just one more difficult conversation, she'd eventually outrun the consequences of the decision she'd made in Los Angeles. Instead, they'd been waiting for her all along.
Harry disappeared yesterday without another word. He'd declined dinner. He hadn't called. He hadn't texted. Perhaps that was her own fault, seeing as she didn’t give him much to work on as far as means of communicating. After all, he was probably still blocked and she’d long since changed her number. But still, he hadn't come back. Her mind, cruel and unforgiving as ever, had eagerly stepped in to fill the gaps.
Maybe he'd assumed she was lying, and that’s why he left. Or maybe he already called a lawyer. She shuttered when she considered the very real possibility of waking up to custody papers sitting in her mailbox. The idea of pulling open the little door of the red painted box at the end of the driveway to an official envelope - she couldn’t even finish the thought. By next week, she’d convinced herself that every gossip site on the internet would have Charlie's face plastered across it beneath headlines she'd spent years praying would never exist. Maybe Harry hated her. And maybe, she thought, he really should. Every possibility seemed somehow more terrifying than the last.
And the hardest part of all it was that she didn't have the faintest idea what she was supposed to do next. There wasn't a decision she could simply make and just move forward with while keeping her head down. Whatever happened now wouldn't belong solely to her anymore, and she couldn’t stand how helpless that made her feel.
Her throat tightened. She stared out across the water, blinking against the sting behind her eyes before finally finding the courage to say the thing she'd been carrying since Harry walked away.
"I think I really fucked this up, Daddy."
Ollie was quiet for a long moment. It wasn’t because he didn’t know how to answer. It was because he wanted to make sure she knew she had room to say more if she chose. Finally, he rested both forearms against the railing beside hers.
"Annie-girl..." he said softly. "There ain't much sense in punishin' yourself over yesterday."
"No." A humorless laugh escaped her. "No, I really fucked this up. I mean in general, not just yesterday. Though I really outdid myself yesterday, too."
"You didn't see the look on his face when it kinda clicked…" She struggled to force the words out. "He couldn't even look at me. And when he did, I felt small - like the worst person in the world. Even just thinking about it makes me sick."
Ollie let the silence settle instead of rushing to fill it. When he finally spoke, his voice carried no judgment.
"Now I ain't pickin' sides. But I imagine..." He glanced toward Charlie before looking back at the marsh. "...that wasn't an easy thing for him to hear."
"He said he hates me.” The words left Anna before she even realized she'd answered. “So you’re imagining it pretty accurately.”
The words settled over them with a blanketing softness, like a rain skating gently across hot pavement. Anna had fully braced herself for contradiction. She was prepared for someone to gently correct her, wisely remind her of the logic behind all these tough choices. She anticipated someone to swoop in and wrap her in reassurances, assuring her that everything would eventually find its way back into its rightful place. Instead, Ollie had done what he was best at doing with that familiar, quiet mastery. All he did was create a space - completely wide and entirely unguarded space - for the truth to exist without any sort of resistance.
Anna let her stare drift across the pool until it found the spot where Charlie floated on her back, her limbs loose and completely untroubled. All the while Cooper made a quite valiant but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to send buoyant splashes her way from a healthy distance. The other half of Anna, just a couple feet away, ripped a laugh so vivacious it carried across the water. It captured Charlie perfectly: bright and unburdened, almost as if she belonged to another realm entirely. A place wholly untouched by sudden revelations. A kind of place where lives didn’t splinter and the innocence of childhood wasn’t interrupted by questions too large for anyone to answer.
She inhaled slowly, the breath measured and deliberate as it trailed through her nose and exited through her mouth. Her thumb continued to absently tracing the faint, damp ring of melted water that her glass had left on the sun-warmed railing.
There was more broiling beneath the surface. Not only just remorse, but something sharper. Perhaps an unease that had nestled itself beneath her ribs the day before and refused to give up its spot. A quiet, persistent dread she had spent the past 17 hours trying to outpace, filling her day with whatever sort of motion and distraction she could scrounge up. Now, standing beside Ollie, she felt the strain of carrying it alone begin to wear impossibly thin.
A quiet, humorless laugh slipped from Anna before she could even try to subdue it. It sounded wrong the moment it left her. It was thin and hollow, stripped bare of anything remotely resembling amusement. The kind of laugh someone elicited when they ran out of options or when there was nothing left to say and nowhere left to hide.She shook her head once. Maybe more to herself than to her father, as if trying to dislodge the sound from the air.
Then, slowly, she turned to face him. “I asked him to come back. I told him…” She hesitated, her throat tightening as she searched for the right words.
“I offered dinner - just the two of us. Only to talk about Charlie and, just, y’know, figure out…” Her voice faltered, uncertainty creeping in. “I don’t know… what this is supposed to even look like?”
Her gaze ripped itself away from him almost in defiance, settling instead on the deck. As though she were too angry to look at him. Too embarrassed and ashamed. A bead of condensation slid lazily down the side of her glass, catching the light as it fell and pooling at her manicured thumb cuticle. In a manic state around 3am (or 4, she’d stop checking the clock on her nightstand), she’d peeled off all her nail polish. Just itching for something to occupy her attention instead of succumbing to her thoughts.
She quickly wiped her palm on her jean shorts. “I figured we’d both cool off a little and then regroup. Like adults.”
A quiet beat passed between them, stretching just long enough to feel heavy. “So what’d he say?”
Ollie’s question came carefully, delivered with a gentle tone. Almost enough to disguise the flicker of hope tucked beneath it, anxiously waiting to hear his daughter tell him Harry was actually on his way. Anna’s lips curved into a crooked smile that never managed to reach her eyes.
She gave a small, defeated nod. “He basically told me to go fuck myself.”
The bluntness of it landed hard, the words hanging in the space between them like something solid.
“Then, obviously, he left.”
Ollie’s jaw shifted into a grind like fixture, the movement subtle but unmistakable. His eyes wandered over the yard, flickering past Charlie as she floated contently near the steps. Her tiny frame buoyed by the water, her laughter convivial and jubilant. She had no idea - no idea at all - that two adults stood just a few yards away, trying to piece together a future that orbited with her right at the epicenter.
Not a single part of him enjoyed hearing that. No father ever wanted to imagine his little girl standing outside alone at night, watching someone she loved walk away from her whilst blinded by anger. Every instinct in him bristled at the thought. The protective and indignant part of him fully ready to take her side without hesitation.
The quieter, steadier part that had carried him through several years of marriage, fatherhood, and everything life had thrown his way, held him back. The more he stewed on it, the more he couldn’t even imagine what it would truly feel like to discover that one of his children had existed for four years practically right under his nose. The thought alone hollowed something out inside him, and he couldn’t definitively say for sure he’d have found kinder words than Harry had. Anna mistook his silence for agreement.
Her shoulders sagged another inch, the weight of it all settling deeper into her bones.“I’m terrified, Daddy.”
Her eyes finally lifted to meet his, searching and uncertain.
“They’re probably ridiculous thoughts, but…” She shook her head, blinking hard as she tried to keep herself together. “I can’t get them to stop. Like, what if he tells the wrong person? And that person tells everybody?”
“Anna I doubt he’ll-”
She couldn’t stop, now. Just kept going down the list. “She’ll never have privacy again. Never remember what a normal childhood is like. What if a lawyer shows up? You know, a guy in an expensive suit with a thick envelope of papers. Custody papers.”
“Custody papers?” Ollie alarmingly raised both of his eyebrows so much they nearly hit his hairline. “I think you’ve been watchin’ too much TV, kiddo.”
“It’ll never be simple like this again.” Anna’s lip just barely quivered. “She’ll spend half the year in England, or wherever. Completely out of my sight.”
He let her speak, let every fear spill out and settle into the open air between them before he said a word. When she finally fell quiet, he reached out, resting one weathered hand over hers where it gripped the railing. His thumb brushed gently across her knuckles, grounding, steady.
Then, with all the quiet certainty of a father who had spent her entire life proving that home was never conditional, he said softly, “He’ll be back.”
“‘He’ll be back,’” she repeated, managing the faintest roll of her eyes. “Real reassuring, Daddy.”
Ollie’s smile tugged gently at one corner of his mouth. “I’m serious, Annie-girl.”
“Yeah, so am I.” She glanced back toward the pool, letting her gaze linger there. “You couldn’t see his face… see how angry he was.”
“No,” Ollie admitted evenly. “I didn’t.”
A breeze trickled slowly through the yard, stirring and twirling the Spanish moss that hung lazily from the weather-worn old oaks. Charlie squealed triumphantly as Cooper surrendered the inflatable raft, declaring her captain of the pirate ship after all. The children dissolved into another fit of laughter so rambunctious it was sure to have traveled clear across the marsh.
Ollie watched her for a long moment before speaking again. “But Izzy did. She told me about last night… about Charlie wanderin’ into the kitchen.”
Anna’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. Her tongue ran over the front of her teeth behind pursed lips as her fingers toyed with a stray piece of fabric from her shorts. She just craned her neck a bit, silently inviting Ollie to go on.
“She said the second his eyes landed on her… it was like somebody reached inside him and flipped a light on.”
Anna’s expression softened despite herself. “He didn’t even say anything about that. Izzy even said he said nothing when she came in.”
“Izzy said he just sorta looked at her. Not in a curious sort of way.” He shook his head, his line of sight falling on Charlie again as she bobbed manically through the water. “She said it looked like he couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t stop lookin’. That sort of thing.”
Anna swallowed. The image of it all nestled itself quietly between them. A man unknowingly staring at his own daughter, drawn toward her before he’d even been given a reason to. She thought back to the way Harry had studied Charlie as she searched for Honey through the kitchen. The smile he’d tried (and failed) to hide. The studied gaze he fixed on her features. She noticed it yesterday, she just hadn’t understood it until afterward.
“Ain’t the kind of thing you force,” Ollie went on, “It just happens.”
Silence blanketed them once more. Not heavy this time, but introspective and thoughtful. Anna watched Charlie disappear beneath the surface before popping back up with both fists triumphantly in the air. For just a second, she saw yesterday through Harry’s eyes instead of her own—meeting Charlie, laughing with Charlie, being inexplicably drawn toward Charlie… only to learn she’d belonged to him all along. It made her chest ache.
Ollie took another slow sip of his tea. “Now that ain’t to say I’m gonna defend the way he left.”
“Yeah, well,” Anna said quietly. “You shouldn’t, I guess.”
He rested his hip on the railing, body square to Anna. “Listen, kiddo, anger like that…” He took a pause as he searched for the right words. “It don’t come from indifference.”
Anna remained silent, her eyes fixed on the pool. She could feel the unbiased weight of Ollie’s eyes resting directly atop her. But she knew that, if she turned to face her father, she’d succumb to an onset of unstoppable tears.
“You don’t get that angry over somebody you don’t love,” he continued. “You get angry because somewhere underneath all that hurt… there’s still somethin’ worth hurtin’ over.”
Anna felt her throat tighten. Ollie wasn’t talking only about Charlie. He knew that. She knew that. Neither of them acknowledged it.
“He is a good man, Annie-girl, but not without flaws.” Ollie put it simply. “He’ll say things he wishes he hadn’t. He’ll probably make a mess of this before he figures out how not to. But he is fair. And whatever else happens…” His eyes finally met hers with quiet certainty. “I don’t believe for one second he’s gonna send some fella in a tailored suit knockin’ on my front door with stack o’ papers. I don’t believe he’s gonna sell his own child to the papers. And I sure as hell don’t believe he’s spent the better part of four years lovin’ you only to start communicatin’ through lawyers.”
He let that settle between them. “I think yesterday broke his heart,” he added after a beat. “And I think broken hearts have a way of sayin’ ugly things.”
He reached over, giving the back of Anna’s hand one gentle pat before returning it to his glass. “But broken ain’t the same thing as gone.” He glanced toward the house, his voice quiet now. “That’s why I told you… he’ll be back.”
Anna remained completely quiet for so long that Ollie began to ponder if she’d even heard anything he’d said. The vivacious sounds emulating from the pool sung on around them, interrupting the stillness between them. Loud splashes, childish laughter, the distant bark of Tuck and Vivienne’s family dog. But beside him, Anna had fallen unnervingly still.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a breath. “I don’t trust him.”
The words hung in the air before settling in the physical space between them, heavy and unmoving. Almost immediately, she winced. It felt as though hearing them aloud now had molded them into a new shape, given it a new meaning. They suddenly felt harsher than they had sounded inside her head.
“It’s not…” She exhaled slowly, rubbing her forehead as if she could smooth the thought into something clearer. “It’s not that simple.”
“I know,” Ollie said quietly.
Anna turned herself back toward the pool, where she could focus on her child to try and invite more grounding thoughts. Charlie had completely abandoned the makeshift pirate ship and was instead chasing Lilly throughout the shallow end near the stairs. Shrilled shrieking with laughter embedded throughout barreled from both girls, carrying itself clean across the yard with ease. For a moment, Anna just watched them, her expression softening despite herself. If only everything, she thought, was that simple.
“All the bullshit aside, I know that he’s a good person.” There was a pause, and then, more quietly she said, “and I know that he loved me.”
Her jaw tightened, the softness draining from her expression as quickly as it had come. “But I also remember how small it felt trying to build an entire life around someone who could never stay still.”
She went on as her voice started growing quieter and distant, as if she were reciting something she had long ago memorized. “Tour. Press. Another country. Another city. Another schedule. Another commitment.” She gave a small, humorless shake of her head. “His career touches every part of his life. Even the parts he tries to keep for himself. It’s not his fault, but it is his reality.”
Anna’s nimble fingers drifted back to the railing again before she resumed the absent picking of splintered wood.
“This sounds dumb,” She stared down at the tiny sliver balanced on her fingertip, her brow furrowing slightly. “But sometimes he just felt… really temporary. Sometimes I just felt temporary to him, too.”
Her voice softened, but the conviction in it did not. “How can I willingly subject my child to that? She’s barely four. She doesn’t understand careers and months apart. She doesn’t know the difference between temporary and forever.”
A quiet laugh slipped from her, though there was no humor in it. “I’ve spent four years knowing exactly what tomorrow looked like. Now I don’t even know what next week looks like.”
Ollie listened without interrupting, his attention steady and patient. When her words finally ran out, he let the silence linger for a moment longer before a quiet chuckle escaped him.
Anna turned to him, faintly offended. “What?”
He smiled down into his glass. “You always did have a habit of borrowin’ tomorrow’s worries.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m serious.”
“I know you are.” He rested his elbows on the railing, turning slightly toward her. “So am I. Let me ask you somethin’... where’ve you lived these last ten years?”
Anna’s frown was joined by the bunching of her eyebrows, caught off guard. “Where are you going with this?”
“Georgia,” he started, counting on one finger. “California.” Another. “New York.” Another. “Now back here.” He shrugged lightly. “And somewhere in between all that, I reckon you’ve racked up enough airline miles to circle the globe.”
“Oh c’mon.” Anna winced, just barely, before trying to mask it with a crooked smile. “That’s different.”
“Is it? You’ve built yourself one hell of a career,” Ollie continued, tone warm with pride. “I’m mighty proud of you for it. But don’t pretend your life’s been lived from one front porch.”
Anna peeled her eyes away - a desperate attempt to avoid having to agree with him. She knew the point he was trying to argue and, the worst part was, he wasn’t entirely wrong. It didn’t feel the same to her. Anna’s life had never been even remotely as loud or all consuming like Harry’s always seemed. It never truly demanded so much of her all at once, in one sitting, all of the time. But, in retrospect, it had shaped her all the same. Every long day that bled into late nights, every trip, every last-minute flight had carved its own path through her life. And Charlie’s, too. She’d built something steady for her daughter, something rooted in beauty and creative expression. But Charlie’s life had, for the most part, still been built around the edges of Anna. Her work, her choices, her ambition. One could argue that the difference wasn’t as clean as she’d always told herself it was. Maybe it was just easier for Anna to convince herself that the difference was a lot bigger than it actually is.
“How often are you jettin’ off to different places?” Ollie intended it as a question, but Anna knew better than to answer. “Miami, Paris, Italy… you want me to keep goin’?”
She sighed. “I always come home.”
Ollie’s attention flickered back over towards the edge of the pool, where they squinted in mild amusement over his gaggle of grandkids. Charlie had just climbed out, dripping from head to toe as she raced to the other side to meet Lilly, who immediately bolted in the opposite direction. Then he looked back at Anna.
“I think…” he said, voice measured, “…you’ve spent so much time tryin’ to imagine what this looks like for Charlie…” He paused as he carefully chose his words. “…that you ain’t once stopped to imagine what it looks like for Harry. I don’t reckon he knows what tomorrow looks like any more than you do.”
Her eyes drifted back to the water, thoughtful now as she let herself succumb to the ebb and flow of Ollie’s raspy voice while he continued on.
“You’ve had almost four years to picture every version of Charlie’s future,” he offered a small, understanding smile. “Harry’s had less than twenty-four hours. However scared you are…” Ollie reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’d wager he’s scared too.”
For the first time since yesterday, Anna managed to give herself permission to ponder the possibility that they weren’t standing on opposite sides of the same fight. She considered the very real reality that, while she and Harry stood in different places, they were both staring into the face of the same unknown.
Anna opted out of saying anything for a long while. Her attention remained absentmindedly fixed on Charlie a few yards ahead, though the picture before her gradually lost its sharpness. The repetitive splashing water, the pointed peals of laughter, the lazy sway of Spanish moss overhead. All of it began to merge together before it dissolved into a blur as Ollie’s words settled. They maneuvered their way into Anna, somewhere far deeper than she’d even anticipated. They sank slowly, like thrown stones disappearing beneath still water, until they began disturbing places she had spent years carefully subduing.
Up until now, it’d been so easy to believe there had only ever been one path forward. Twenty-five years old. Heartbroken. Barely pregnant. Furious enough to mistake conviction for clarity. She had jammed the palpable part of her life into the back of a car with trembling hands and swollen eyes, convincing herself every mile eastbound was another act of self-preservation. By the time she’d managed to cross the Georgia state line, she had convinced herself of the trope often enough that it had ceased to feel like a choice at all.
For these past four years, she had comfortably existed within the confines of that certainty. It had become the unwavering mortar between every brick of the life she’d built. But like most things, certainty had a naggingly peculiar way of eroding beneath the weight of another person’s perspective. She knew each thread of her own reasoning. She knew the betrayal that prompted her to flee from Los Angeles before dawn, putting the city behind her in blurry lights. She knew every sleepless night, the panic, the suffocating loneliness of preparing to become someone’s mother while mourning the death of a life she was once so sure of. She knew every tear she had cried, every sacrifice she had made, every impossible decision she had carried alone. Harry knew none of it. From where he stood, what did it look like?
The question floated into the front of her mind without warning, manifesting itself into a physical ache somewhere beneath her ribs. It forced her to think of yesterday all over again, only this time in the perspective of the man who had been standing across from her. The same man who had shown up to a distantly familiar, sleepy coastal town. A man who had expected little else other than maybe an awkward wedding, where he’d run into the woman who had broken his heart years earlier. A man with, despite everything, unwavering kindness - the type of kindness that gets him to return a family heirloom in person. Only to discover she had secretly carried his child, given birth to his daughter, celebrated nearly four years’ worth of birthdays and Christmas mornings and bedtime stories without him ever even knowing she existed. It dawned on Anna, hauntingly, that the only thing that looked like was the cruelest form of punishment.
The thought hollowed her out. She had spent so much time telling herself she had acted out of protection, that she blindly believed it. At one point amidst it all, she never found it in her to consider just how it would appear to the only other person whose life that decision had irrevocably altered. From the outside, stripped of every private justification she had clung to, it no longer resembled self-preservation quite so neatly.
The realization settled over her like the unbearable weight of sopping wet wool, and she physically recoiled from it almost instinctively. No, she thought, that wasn’t fair. Harry hadn’t lived the nights she had lived. He hadn’t known the fear that had driven every decision she had made. He hadn’t watched his entire future collapse in the span of a single argument.
Yet, she couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable truth quietly unfurling itself in the corners of her conscience. Intent and perception had never been the same thing. She still believed she had done what she thought was right. But now, she finally wondered whether that mattered nearly as much as she had always convinced herself it did.
The storm of thoughts, almost immediately, began to dissolve as a result of the familiar groan of the screen door easing open behind them. Neither Anna nor Ollie turned right away, they didn't have to. There was only one person in the Wilson family who possessed the uncanny ability to make her presence known before she'd even spoken.
Cici emerged onto the back porch with both hands swallowed by faded blue floral oven mitts that had certainly seen better decades. A dish towel had been thrown carelessly over one shoulder, its corner dusted with flour, while loose wisps of dyed blonde hair had long since escaped the clip meant to contain them. The Georgia heat mixed with the warmth of an over-worked oven had painted her cheeks a rosy pink.
She stopped just outside the patio door and planted one hand firmly against her hip, surveying the backyard with all the quiet authority of a woman who had long ago accepted that no one in this family would ever listen the first time.
Her eyes swept slowly across the pool. Cooper was poorly attempting to teach Blake how to perform what he unwaveringly assured everyone was an "Olympic dive," despite neither boys possessing anything even remotely close to resembling proper form. Lilly sat proudly atop an oversized inflatable flamingo, issuing commands to no one in particular while Charlie paddled determinedly near Vivienne’s post, where their dog Tony sat as his paws scraped the pool surface. Cici sighed toward the heavens.
"Alright now!" she hollered with practiced ease, her voice carrying effortlessly across the backyard. "I'm fixin' to feed every one'a y'all, but I ain't feedin' nobody that's drippin' chlorinated pool water all over my clean floors!"
Just as Cici clapped her oven-mitted hands together, Tony's ears perked up from where he'd been sprawled lazily beneath the umbrella beside Vivienne's chair. The mischievous black Labrador lifted his head, looked from the children to Cici, and, in true Tony fashion, interpreted the sudden commotion as a personal invitation to participate. As soon as he bounded to his feet, Vivienne knew what was about to ensue.
"Oh, Lord..." Vivienne sighed.
Tony, with all the might and energy a 2 year old dog had, feverishly launched himself across the yard. With the kind of reckless enthusiasm only Labradors seemed capable of possessing, he began weaving effortlessly between dripping children as they climbed from the pool. His tail whipped back and forth hard enough to spray water onto anyone unfortunate enough to stand within arm's reach.
"Tony!" Vivienne called after him.
The dog didn't so much as acknowledge she'd spoken. He didn’t look over when his name was called. Instead, he'd found a pink tennis ball abandoned somewhere beneath the azaleas and proudly paraded it through the backyard as though he'd personally unearthed buried treasure.
Charlie gasped. "Heyyyy! Tony's got my ball!"
"That's because you left it outside," Cooper pointed out.
"I was gonna get it!" Charlie whined.
"You said that yesterday."
"I was busy!"
"You've been busy for two days.” Blake teased.
Charlie’s pout came full force. "I know!"
The backyard instantaneously dissolved into the sort of cheerful disorder that always seemed to accompany family affairs at the Wilson house. Children scattered in every direction, each suddenly convinced they possessed just enough time to squeeze in one final game before surrendering to baths and meals. Wet footprints embedded themselves in the sun-dried grass across every conceivable direction of the yard, tiny puddles collecting wherever little feet had paused long enough to argue over who'd won the pirate battle or whose turn it had been to captain the inflatable raft. Tony, on the other hand, had officially declared himself the afternoon's greatest victor.
The black Labrador paraded himself proudly throughout the yard, a slobbery tennis ball clamped between his teeth while his tail swished with such convivial enthusiasm that his entire body seemed to sway in unison. Every few steps he took, he'd brazenly glance over, ensuring his audience remained appropriately invested in his accomplishment before breaking into another delighted sprint once someone tried to get close.
“I didn’t spend all morning waxing my floors for mess,” Cici patronized. “So y’all better snatch that gremlin and wipe his paws ‘for lettin’ him in my house.”
"Oh, honestly..." Vivienne groaned, pushing herself up from the lounge chair with considerably more reluctance than urgency.
She slid her sunglasses onto the top of her head and sighed dramatically toward the cloudless sky. "Tony, honey, I do not have the cardiovascular endurance for this today."
Tony responded by taking off even faster. Vivienne blinked after him, mouth parted in a state of mild shock. "I know he didn't just do that."
The boys erupted into laughter. Cooper doubled over so hard he nearly toppled back into the pool, bracing himself by throwing his hands to his knees.
"He juked you!" he hollered between cackles. "He absolutely juked you!"
"I saw it!" Blake chimed in, pointing accusingly toward the dog. "He looked at you first!"
Tony fervently circled the old oak tree nearest to the marsh, just once, before stealthily maneuvering himself beneath the patio table. All of which was done with the unmistakable confidence of an animal who knew full well he was faster than every human currently involved. Vivienne came to an abrupt halt as her hands planted themselves precariously on her hips. The dog dropped into a playful bow, front paws stretched out before him, tail whipping furiously as though issuing a formal challenge. His head was ducked - half in amusement, half as a dare.
Vivienne groaned again. "You think this is funny?"
Tony barked once, and Cooper slapped Blake's shoulder. "He said yes!"
"I heard it too!" Blake agreed in joyous amusement.
"I did not raise y'all to encourage criminal behavior." Vivienne informed the boys matter-of-factly.
She crouched slowly, extending one hand toward Tony with exaggerated patience. "C'mere, sweetheart."
Tony's ears perked.
"Good boy..."
His tail wagged hopefully.
"That's right..."
He took two cautious steps toward her.
"Come on..."
Another step.
Vivienne smiled triumphantly.
"There you -"
Without warning, Tony snatched the tennis ball back off the grass and bolted between her legs. Vivienne let out an anticipatory squeal as she spun awkwardly in place, windmilling both arms to keep herself upright before dissolving into helpless sighs of defeat. Anna watched the spectacle unfold with a smile she hadn't realized she'd been wearing. The sound of her family's laughter floated effortlessly through the humid afternoon, mingling with the steady drone of cicadas and the distant whisper of the marsh beyond the trees. It was loud, chaotic. Entirely unremarkable and borderline ridiculous. Which was precisely what made her feel so comfortably at home.
She extended her arm over towards the patio table, her hand settling on Charlie's faded Bluey towel from the neat stack Cici had laid out earlier that morning. Picking it up, Anna indulged herself with the faint smell of fabric softener laced with sunshine from where it'd been sitting for most of the day. Unfolding it with a practiced snap, Anna caught Charlie's attention with a small wave of her hand.
"C'mon, Lottie bug," she called warmly. "Let's get you dried off before Mimi has a fit."
Charlie's head popped up immediately. "Do I gotta?"
"You do." Anna playfully frowned.
Charlie released the world's most dramatic and theatrical sigh before embarking on her reluctant paddle toward the steps, muttering under her breath about how ‘Mimis’ were ‘always stealing the fun’. Anna smiled contently to herself as she waited at the edge of the deck, Bluey towel held open and ready, knowing full well Charlie would continue to protest right up until the moment she wrapped herself in it like a burrito and melted happily into her mother's arms.
She climbed the deck steps with all the reluctant enthusiasm of a child being asked to leave behind the greatest afternoon of her life. Water streamed from every inch of her, leaving a trail of tiny footprints and small puddles in her wake across the sun-warmed boards. She shuffled toward Anna, her misery exaggerated for effect as she gravely informed her that she hadn’t even been cold, that she would have gotten out eventually. Anna humored her with quiet agreement, and when Charlie tilted her head and amended her claim with a doubtful “probably,” Anna couldn’t help but smile. Without ceremony, she draped it over Charlie’s head until the little girl disappeared entirely beneath soft blue terrycloth.
Charlie’s muffled squeal of protest dissolved quickly into giggles. “Mama, I can’t see! I disappeared!”
“Oh no!” Anna gasped in mock despair. “Has anyone seen Charlie?”
Playful bumps of small hands shot upward, aimlessly fumbling beneath the confines of the towel until Charlie’s face emerged again. Her grin filled her face, which was flushed a slight shade of pink from the sun and fits of laughter. Wet curls of hair sprang wildly in every direction, refusing to be tamed no matter how many times Anna smoothed them down.
“False alarm,” Anna’s chuckle dwindled to a murmur, “Here she is.”
She gathered the towel in a more condensed bunch around the base of Charlie’s head again. Her hands worked more gently this time, maneuvering in slow circles through her damp hair. Water sept into the fabric with each pass, leaving behind soft and towel-dried waves that curled almost immediately in the humid air. Though only for a moment, Anna’s hands completely stilled.
Since before she could even remember, Anna had always amounted Charlie’s unruly mane to her own. The kink of boundless curls rivaled Anna’s, both heads of hair meeting the fate of their natural-born curl pattern any time water or humidity was at play. But now, with the water weighing it down and the humidity descending, the strands clung in familiar bends around Charlie’s forehead. Each refusing to lie flat no matter how carefully Anna tucked them away.
She’d seen this head of hair on someone else. On a twenty-six-year old boy standing barefoot in the kitchen, sleep still clinging to him as he wandered downstairs each morning. His hair flattened on one side and impossibly unruly on the other. He had never quite been able to tame it either. The memories arrived so suddenly it stole the breath from her lungs.
Anna swallowed and forced her hands to keep moving. “Hold still, bug.”
“I am holdin’ still.”
“Liar.” Anna teased. “You’ve spun around three times!”
Charlie shrugged unassumingly. “I was just helpin’.”
Anna let out a soft laugh. “Is that what we’re calling wiggling now? Helping?”
Charlie grinned, and there it was again. Those unmistakable dimples. Anna had peppered them with kisses upwards of thousands of times. She’d laughed at them, watched them deepen whenever Charlie was particularly pleased with herself. She’d cooed at them when she’d giggle as a baby. She’d smile smugly and triumphantly when people would swoon over them. She had always thought they were simply Charlie’s. Now she found herself staring.
Harry had smiled exactly like that. The left dimple appeared just a heartbeat before the right, so subtle it was easy to miss unless you knew to look for it. She had known once. And she always remembered to look. Before yesterday, she had somehow forgotten. Or perhaps she had taught herself not to remember at all.
Anna dragged the towel lower, where she dabbed gently at the droplets still clinging to Charlie’s cheeks. The girl’s skin was warm beneath her fingertips, even with the barrier of the towel. It’d been softened from hours in the Georgia sun, carrying the faint scent of chlorine, SPF, and the watermelon popsicle Charlie snuck after being told no. Charlie scrunched her nose dramatically when Anna rubbed a little too enthusiastically beneath her chin.
“Rubs are too hard.” she protested.
“Oh?” Anna softened her touch immediately. “Sorry.”
Charlie scrunched it again anyway, more out of habit than discomfort, which enticed Anna to come screeching to a halt. It was such a small thing. So small, it was really the kind of habit no one ever seemed to notice. Already having walked down memory lane, Anna realized she did notice it. Not only notice it, but recognize it. Except Harry had always done that exact same thing. Whenever she teased him, whenever coffee tasted too bitter, whenever something amused him just enough to hide a smile, whenever he was wrapped up so deeply in a thought. His nose would wrinkle precisely the same way, the bridge creasing for a fleeting second before smoothing again.
The realization settled over her quietly before smothering her completely. How many times had she seen Charlie make that face? Hundreds. Thousands, even, if not more. Never once had she allowed herself to acknowledge where it came from. Or who it came from. Charlie looked up at her at that exact moment, letting the sunlight catch her eyes.
They bore no resemblance to the rich, deep chocolate of Anna’s eyes. They never had. Years ago, holding this same little girl in front of her as a newborn swaddled in pink blankets, Anna had decided that her eyes were blue. Then gray. Sometimes green, depending on the light. But now, standing beneath the dwindling afternoon sun, she saw them clearly for what they were - impossible to define. Certainly not blue enough to be blue. Not green enough to be green. They were something in between, shifting with the light. They were Harry’s eyes. Charlie blinked, and the sun caught them again. Harry. Everywhere.
Not enough of him was riddled throughout her to erase pieces of Anna from the child before her. Charlie’s mouth was still hers, the shape of her smile and distinctness of her frown. Her laugh was unmistakably credited to the Wilson in her, loud and gleeful and even obnoxious depending on the occasion. Her stubbornness was undoubtedly inherited from generations of women who had never once apologized for it, Anna especially. But scattered throughout her, tucked into the smallest corners of her expressions, were pieces of Harry that Anna suddenly could not stop seeing.
They had always been there, she was only looking differently now. It was as if yesterday had discreetly adjusted the lens through which she had spent almost four years seeing her daughter. As though the truth, once spoken aloud, refused to be hidden again.
“You okay, Mama?” Charlie reached up and patted Anna’s cheek with a damp little hand.
Anna blinked, pulled back into the present. She hadn’t realized she had stopped moving. A smile came easily. “I am.”
Charlie studied her for a moment, then just as quickly seemed satisfied with the answer she was handed. As predicted for the attention span of a child, another burst of laughter from across the yard caught her attention instead. Cooper had successfully cornered Tony near the hydrangeas, but the black Labrador darted sideways at the last second, refusing to surrender his tennis ball. Cooper lunged after him, only to land in a flop atop a forgotten pool noodle. It shot out from beneath him, sending him pinwheeling before he collapsed into the grass with a dramatic yelp that sent Blake and Lilly into hysterics.
Charlie burst into laughter so suddenly she nearly doubled over, both dimples carving deep into her cheeks as that obnoxious Anna-inherited laugh ripped clean through the air. Before Anna could stop herself, she saw Harry all over again. Bright and alive, smiling through the face of the little girl who had no idea who her father was.
Behind the barrier of the weathered screen door on the porch, the kitchen had become its own kind of organized pandemonium. Every available inch of counter space had disappeared beneath a disarray of used mixing bowls, cutting boards, serving platters, and ingredients in various stages of dinner. A well-loved cast-iron skillet hissed softly on the stove while something buttery and unmistakably Southern baked away inside the oven, filling the house with the comforting perfume of roasted garlic, warm yeast, and assorted herbs. Somewhere on the back burner, seasoned green beans simmered low beneath a generous helping of bacon, onions, and enough butter to make any cardiologist weep.
The ceiling fan spun lazily and essentially useless overhead, doing nothing aside from pushing heavy, warm air from one end of the room to the other. The working oven and stove didn’t aid much, but Cici refused to acknowledge it. She floated effortlessly through the chaos she'd orchestrated herself. She went on opening new cabinet doors before she'd closed the last one. She skillfully balanced a wooden spoon between her front teeth, all the while simultaneously checking on rolls in the oven. Amidst it all, she kept directing Ollie toward whatever task she'd decided he was responsible for next.
"Now hold on. No no - that bowl goes over there."
Ollie looked down at the ceramic bowl already in his hands. "...Where's 'there'?"
Cici didn't bother looking up. "The other there.”
He considered that for a moment. "Gee...that certainly narrows it down, don’t it?"
She sighed with theatrical disappointment. "I swear, Oliver Wilson, after forty years of marriage you'd think I'd have taught you how to read my mind by now."
He slid the bowl exactly where it'd been sitting before. "I've found askin' questions's a whole lot safer."
"It ain't."
"It feels safer."
"It ain't."
The corners of Ollie's mouth twitched in defiance before faltering and disappearing altogether. Time had taught him plenty, and he knew better than to argue with a woman wielding oven mitts. Especially his woman. Cici crossed the kitchen in three purposeful, intent strides before nudging him aside with her hip, muttering something under her breath about "men bein' decorative more than useful" as she reached for the bowl herself.
"I heard that," Ollie said.
"I wasn't whisperin'."
"No, ma'am." He nodded, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You sure weren’t.”
"And don't you go givin' me that grin." Cici shot back with an intentful point of her finger.
"What grin?"
"The one you're wearin'."
"I don't believe I'm wearin' one."
"You most certainly are."
He rubbed thoughtfully at his beard. "Might just be my face."
Cici stopped long enough to level him with a look. "Well, your face is bein' awfully smug."
"I'll see if I can do somethin' about it."
Cici carefully bobbed her head. "You do that."
Despite every word of complaint, the ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before she turned back toward the stove. Outside, muffled through the open patio doors, Charlie's laughter drifted into the kitchen alongside the rhythmic drone of cicadas. Tony barked once somewhere near the side yard before Cooper triumphantly declared he'd finally gotten the tennis ball back, only to be met with immediate protests from Blake insisting he'd done most of the work. Faint, though prominent enough to carry into the kitchen, whining from Lilly about something. Anything. All in all, the Wilson house hummed with the kind of comfortable noise that only existed when everyone was home.
The laughter outside seemed to dip for half a breath, just slightly. The cicadas droned on but somehow felt farther away now. Even the skillet's steady hiss softened beneath something unseen, like the house itself had drawn in a quiet, expectant breath. As if on cue, three sharp knocks echoed through the foyer. Each one carried itself down the hallway, landing in the kitchen where it hung briefly in the thick, warm air.
They weren’t frantic, nor hesitant. Simply...deliberate. The kitchen paused. Cici looked toward the front hallway. Ollie looked up from the platter he'd been carrying. Another knock followed shortly thereafter.
"My goodness," Cici muttered, glancing toward the old grandfather clock tucked against the dining room wall. "Who in heaven's name comes callin' this close to supper?"
Ollie adjusted the weight of the serving platter in his hands. "Could be one'a the neighbors."
"They know better." Cici tutted.
"Might be somebody lost." Ollie offered.
"They've got GPS."
"Might be a salesman."
"You got an answer for everything, don’t you?" She pulled the casserole dish from the oven, setting it carefully atop the stovetop before waving one floral oven mitt toward her husband. "Would you get the door?"
Ollie lifted both hands in surrender, the heavy platter balanced precariously between them. "I would, sweetheart..." He tipped his chin toward the stack of dishes she'd loaded into his arms over the last ten minutes. "...but you've got me workin' like a borrowed mule."
Cici looked him up and down. "You've got one platter."
"It's a mighty important platter."
"It weighs but a pound.” Cici’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Two, if you really wanna drum up theatrics.”
"Would say four if you count the potatoes."
She rolled her eyes so dramatically it bordered on athletic. "I swear..." she murmured, already wiping her hands on the dish towel draped over her shoulder. "If I want somethin' done around this house, I reckon I'll just have to keep doin' it myself."
With one last exaggerated sigh of defeat, Cici went to untie the back of her apron before setting aside on the counter. She adjusted the oven mitt she'd somehow forgotten was still on one hand, abandoning it atop the kitchen table on her way to the hallway. Her footsteps unhurried against the old hardwood floors. She embarked on her journey toward the foyer with the practiced gait of a woman who'd walked it tens of thousands of times before. The old pine floors answered each step with a familiar creak beneath her house shoes.
The hallway itself was bathed in the honeyed glow of late afternoon, sunlight spilling through the front windows and stretching long rectangles across the hardwood and onto the staircase. Family photographs lovingly adorned the walls in carefully curated clusters. A plethora of school portraits, beach vacations, Christmas mornings, wedding days passed her by, each one hung with the kind of deliberate care only Cici possessed.
Her eyes found the crooked frame almost immediately. She frowned, slowing just enough to straighten it with the side of her hand before continuing on. Only for her attention to drift toward the faded runner stretched down the center of the hallway. That thing desperately needed a proper deep clean. She'd meant to borrow Tucker's carpet cleaner two weeks ago. Or had it been three? She made a mental note to call him tomorrow, assuming she remembered. She probably wouldn't.
Another note quietly joined the growing list in the back of her mind: wash the runner, rotate the hydrangeas on the front porch, replace the lightbulb in the upstairs hallway before somebody broke a neck. She reached the foyer just as another ribbon of sunlight caught the thin layer of pollen gathering along the windowsill. Mercy. Georgia could keep its pollen to itself.
The front door stood only an arm's length away now. Cici reached for the brass handle... then stopped. "Oh, honestly."
She drew her hand back to her side, suddenly startled by the unsettling possibility that she looked exactly like she'd spent the better part of the afternoon standing over a hot stove. Which is exactly what she had been doing.
Taking one small step backward, her body at an angle, she turned toward the antique mirror hanging above the narrow entryway table. The woman staring back at her looked perfectly respectable by every reasonable standard. Which, naturally, meant there was plenty of work to be done.
She tugged at the clip securing her hair just enough to coax a few stray strands back into place before ultimately deciding they looked better where they'd fallen originally. One manicured hand smoothed absentmindedly over a barely noticeable crease on the front of her skirt. The other brushed an invisible speck of flour from her shirt. She pinched lightly at her cheeks, satisfied to find they already carried enough color from the kitchen heat, then leaned in just a fraction.
"Well..." she murmured to her reflection, her grin as smug as ever. "You've certainly looked worse.”
Content enough with that assessment, Cici squared her shoulders, wrapped her fingers around the cool brass handle, and finally pulled the front door open. She was met with a gust of hot air, the hum of birds and cicadas, and a familiar face that looked daunted by lack of sleep. He did exactly what Ollie said he would do.
Violet comes to a conclusion about Harry’s feelings..
(part 9)
stained series
word count: 10.8k
warnings/tags: tattoo artist h, fmc, mention of drugs & drug use, alcohol use, angst
To say he wasn’t nervous would be a complete lie. Harry was slowly pacing back and forth in his work room. He couldn’t stop thinking about Violet. It was close to four, so he was going to see her soon. Why was he acting like he’d never see her again? Her memory clogged up his mind. He could hear her sweet voice and soft laughs in his ears. He could see her sparkling eyes and gorgeous lips. It was like she was some kind of dream, some kind of ghost he saw only once that haunted him. She wasn’t a ghost, though. She was an angel.
The sound of the door knob turning pulled him out of his head, but his anxiety shifted to annoyance as Niall walked in the room. Harry pushed his hand through his hair and walked over to the counter, trying to pretend like he was doing something. The truth was, he had already prepped everything for her arrival. He had the chair laid flat, the piercing equipment out, the supplies placed on his tray - everything had already been done.
“Are you going to that costume party?” Niall didn’t seem to care about what Harry was or wasn’t doing with his spare time.
“I don’t know.” He sighed.
“Sky is forcing me to go.” Niall was mindlessly looking at his phone.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself whether you’re forced or not.”
Niall smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “I like to have a good time. Don’t act like you don’t, too.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“What are you waiting on?” Niall asked, slightly confused as he realized there was equipment out.
“A piercing appointment.” Harry turned away from him to try and avoid any further questions.
It didn’t work. Niall was a nosey person.
“Who is it? A regular?”
“No.” Harry quickly said, hoping that he would leave the room.
“I’m ’bout to head out after I clean the front.” Niall said with a huff.
“Okay.”
Before he could take a breath, he heard a familiar voice call out his name. This time, he knew it wasn’t just in his head. Niall let out a devious laugh just as Violet appeared in the doorway.
“Not a regular, huh?” Niall teased with a smirk. “Hey there, Violet.”
“Hey, Niall. How are you?” She politely said, oblivious to his mischievous behavior.
“I’m alright. You’re getting a piercing today?” He furrowed his brows lightly.
“Mhm.” She looked past him to catch Harry’s stare.
It was somewhat disheartening at first when she saw his straight lips and set jaw. Before she could question it, he softened and gave her a smile.
“Hi, Harry.” She felt her cheeks warming.
He picked his lips. “Hey, c’mere.”
She walked over to him, completely ignoring Niall’s presence now. She locked eyes with Harry as she crossed the room. As she reached him, he looked down at the jewelry he had laid out on the counter.
“Pick the one you like.” He said, stepping back to give her some room.
“Okay.” Her voice was soft as she started to examine each of her options.
Harry went back to the chair and made sure everything was ready as he waited for her. Unfortunately, Niall was still lurking around. He was giving Harry a suspicious look. He was trying his best to ignore it, but Niall wasn’t going to give up easily.
“Are you going or not?”
Harry glared at him. “I don’t know, damn.”
Violet picked her jewelry choice and turned to face them. Her curiosity was too strong.
“Going where?” She focused her attention on Harry.
“To a Halloween party.” Niall spoke up first.
She grinned. “Oh, Halloween is so fun. You should go.”
It was sometimes hard for her to picture him doing anything fun or exciting, but she knew he was capable of it. She has witnessed that wide smile and heard his chuckles. She knew he had a spark of joy in him. It was just hard to find at times.
“You should come, Violet.”
The suggestion came from Niall’s mouth. She nervously laughed and shook her head. She didn’t know him well enough to recognize his devious side. Harry, however, knew him entirely too well.
“No, no. I don’t want to intrude.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Do you want to go? It’s next weekend.” Niall extended the offer again, but she wasn’t willing to accept it.
“Um, I.. Thanks for asking, but I don’t think I can.” She rejected.
Harry checked the time on his phone and let out a loud huff. “Alright, I have an appointment starting. Can you get out?”
Niall rolled his eyes before leaving the room. Harry shut the door and turned towards Violet. She was looking at him with those pretty eyes, a soft smile set on her mouth. Even though the moment was calm, his heart started to race. She did things to him he couldn’t understand.
“Did you find one you like?”
Harry normally didn’t give his clients that many options. He’d just toss out two or three unless they asked for more. He made sure he had a wide selection for Violet.
“Mhm. This one.”
He held his hand out to take it. She gladly dropped it on his palm and waited for the next instruction. She hadn’t done this before, so she was unsure of what to expect. She watched him snap a clean pair of gloves on and open the jewelry.
“Pull your shirt up and let me put a mark on you.”
Violet swallowed as quietly as she could, in hopes of not drawing any attention to herself, and lifted the hem of her shirt. As she felt the cool air hitting her skin, she shuddered and bit down on the inside of her cheek. Harry kneeled down in front of her while ripping open an alcohol pad. He rubbed it against her skin to cleanse it. She prayed that he didn’t see the goosebumps rising on her skin, but unfortunately they were very obvious. He assumed it was her body reacting to the sharp coldness of the pad, but it was actually because he was touching her. If anyone else in the world had done it, she wouldn’t have even noticed.
He dabbed the tip of a marker on her skin after determining a good placement. “Look at that in the mirror. Tell me if it looks good.”
She walked closer to the mirror in front of her to get a better look. The spot seemed right based on her anatomy. She twisted her hips to the side to see how the placement would shift with her body.
“Yeah, it looks good.” She met his eyes.
“Alright. Lay down and relax.”
Harry’s voice was low and calm, it was very comforting. She licked her lips and took a slow, deep breath while getting situated on the chair. He was busying himself with preparing the piercing equipment so he wouldn’t be staring at her exposed skin.
“Will it hurt?”
“Not really. You’ll be fine.”
Without warning, he wiped her skin again to get rid of the mark. Violet stared at the ceiling as she felt him touching her stomach. It was an odd feeling. She didn’t think she’d ever experience this. Part of her mind kept trying to trick her into thinking it was something more intimate than it actually was. He was just doing his job.
“Okay.” She muttered back, not fully trusting him.
Harry glanced at her face to make sure she was alright. Though her cheeks were flushed, she seemed to be fine. She was obviously holding her breath to remain calm, which made him smile. She was cute all the time, but she was even cuter when she did things like that.
“Take a deep breath. I’ll do it when you breathe out. Ready?”
“Yes.”
Violet squeezed her eyes as she felt the cold metal against her skin. Harry made sure to stay focused on the procedure and not directly on her. He kept his eyes fixed on her stomach and let his ears pay attention to her.
“Breathe out.” He told her.
She felt a slight pinch, but she honestly thought it was just his fingers. He secured the jewelry into the fresh piercing and laid his equipment down on the tray.
“Did you do it?” Violet lifted her head to see him.
“Yep. Didn’t feel anything, did you?” He smiled, glancing down at her belly button.
She sat up on the chair, careful not to touch the piercing. “No. Wow, that was super easy.”
“I’ve never had anyone say those hurt.” Harry started to toss away the trash and clean the tray off.
She took the opportunity to jump up and go over to the mirror. The piercing was definitely cute. She really liked the way it looked on her body. She wasn’t always the most confident when it came to her stomach, but this made some of that worry wash away. She was in love with it.
“Oh, it’s so cute! Thank you.” She squealed happily, clasping her hands together while staring at her reflection.
“Just take care of it. Those get infected easily.”
“I will.”
Harry sanitized the chair and finished wiping down everything. She stayed put and followed him with her eyes. It was sort of cute to her to see him doing all of this. It seemed like a task that didn’t really bother him. He was calm and collected. As he finished, he walked back to the counter and leaned on the edge.
The moment his eyes lifted to meet hers, Violet swallowed softly and tried to avoid getting flustered. It was impossible. Her face was warming quickly.
“So, you don’t want to go to the party with me?” He smirked lightly.
She pushed out a nervous laugh similar to one she gave Niall earlier. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to and you.. you said you didn’t know if you were even going.”
“What are you doing next weekend?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you say you can’t go?” Harry furrowed his brows as he waited.
“I.. I wouldn’t know anyone there.” She shrugged, trying to act like she didn’t care in hopes of him changing the topic.
“It’s gonna be a massive party. I won’t know most of the people.”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you like parties?”
Violet felt a tightness in her chest. He had never really bombarded her with so many questions before. The thought of being at a party with strangers was overwhelming. As much as she liked being adventurous, this didn’t seem like something she wanted to try.
“I’ve never really been to a big party.”
The moment he heard the softness of her voice, he sighed. She went from normal to very fragile. He didn’t want to get her too anxious. Harry thought it through for a minute while just looking at her. She chose to stare down at her hands now. The party would definitely be very crowded and chaotic, but he couldn’t shake the idea of her going with him out of his mind. He wanted her there. Not necessarily to experience the party, but just so he could be with her. It was selfish, he knew that, but he wanted to make it happen.
“Why don’t you just come with me? If you don’t like it, we can leave.” He pushed a hand through his hair as he patiently waited for her to cave in.
“Harry.” She mumbled his name.
She sounded like an angel every time she said his name. It made his heart skip beats and his stomach fall.
“It’ll be fun.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never really been into parties.” She shook her head.
“C’mon, please? You owe me, remember?” He tried to keep the conversation light hearted, so he grinned at her.
She stared at him for a moment, taking in the sight of his teeth and happy expression. She liked it when he smiled. It showed off the dimples in his cheeks.
“Do you actually want to go? It seemed like you didn’t want to.”
Harry gulped lightly before replying. “I don’t wanna go with Niall, but I’d go with you.”
Sometimes, well most of the time, Violet didn’t quite know where they stood. Were they just two people slowly becoming friends, or was it more than that? She knew the feelings she got when she went around him aren’t the usual feelings you experience with a friend. It wasn’t her feelings she was unsure of, though. It was his. Did he feel the same way or even a remotely similar way that she did? She wondered if his heart fluttered whenever their eyes locked. She wanted to know if his stomach filled with butterflies when their skin touched. She needed to know so much, but she was too afraid to ask. It was risky. If she asked and he said no, it would crush her soul. So for now, she would just have to make guesses.
She thought about the party and the potential of getting to spend more time with him. It was intriguing. She had no real interest in the party itself, but perhaps she should take the chance while she had it.
“Are you dressing up?”
“In a costume? I wasn’t planning on it.” He laughed, shaking his head at the mere thought of that.
She crossed her arms. “I’ll only go if you put on a costume.”
He groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes. “Costumes aren't my thing.”
“And parties aren’t mine.” She stood her ground, giggling as he gave her a look.
Like she had done just moments ago, he started to contemplate everything. He would do pretty much anything to get to see her again. He’s already considered asking her if she had any more tattoo ideas just so he could get her back in the shop. Maybe he could go about it in an easier way. He licked his lips and huffed at her.
“Fine. I’ll wear something.”
She proudly smirked. “Then I’ll go with you.”
The conversation ended with a sigh from him. He led her upfront to the lobby, but he had no intention of getting any money from her. Violet was slightly confused as he walked towards the door and not behind the counter.
“How much is it?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Nothing.”
“What?”
“I said.. nothing. It’s on me.” He laughed lightly as he unlocked the door for her.
She hastily walked over to him. “No, Harry.”
“Consider it a trade for the tattoo you gave me.”
Her jaw dropped. “Harry, that’s insane. I didn’t give you an actual tattoo!”
He looked down at his arm and rubbed over the flower with his fingertips. “It’s still there, isn’t it? It’s real.”
“Don’t do this to me. Let me pay you.”
“No.” He chuckled.
“Harry!” Her whine made him laugh again.
“Violet.” He mocked her with a smile. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine for me.” She pouted her lips out.
As much as he wanted to stand there and stare at her mouth, he knew he couldn’t give it more than a quick glance. He sighed and shook his head.
“You’re not paying me.”
“Seriously?” She huffed.
“Seriously. Stop trying.” He couldn’t wipe off his grin.
It wasn’t much longer before they went their separate ways. Harry followed her out to her car, using wanting to smoke a cigarette as his excuse. Truthfully, he just wanted to make sure she made it safely to her car. A heavy sigh left his lungs as he lit the end of the cigarette and put it to his lips. Violet did a lot of things in life, but the most confusing one was what she did to him. It was like a spell. An intense, chaotic, euphoric spell that he couldn’t escape.
Well, it’s not like he was trying that hard to get free..
— —
Violet spent the week debating and going back and forth about her costume for the party. She wasn’t sure how serious her costume needed to be. Harry and Niall didn’t seem like the kind of people who went to traditional Halloween parties. Were people going to be in obvious costumes or were they going to be more mature and subtle? She was very nervous about her pick, but she hoped it would be fine.
Harry, on the other hand, didn’t think about the costume until the day before when he remembered he promised her he’d wear something. He picked up something, but he’d need her help to make it happen. He wasn’t stressing over it or making it a big deal.
They sent a few messages back and forth about the party. The arrangement was that Harry would just pick her up from her studio and he’d drive them, since he knew where they were going and wanted to make sure she was safely arriving. He didn’t want her wandering around looking for him amidst all the chaos.
The day of the party came quicker than she wanted it to. Although she was excited to see him, she was terrified of the fact they would be attending a party. Violet held her breath as she stared at her phone screen reading over Harry’s text. He sent it three minutes ago saying he arrived at the building. She was counting the seconds while waiting for him to appear on the other side of the door.
When he knocked, it took every ounce of control she had to resist squealing and jumping with joy. She opened the door and met his pretty eyes and wide smile. His eyes. The gasp she let out was real. He gave her a funny look, but didn’t say anything. She froze in place. He wasn’t wearing any eyeliner. It was obvious she was caught off guard, but she didn’t want him to know why. Something else caught her eye before she could spiral over her thoughts.
“Where’s your costume?” She asked with a frown.
Harry chuckled and held up the bag in his hand. “In here.”
She grabbed the bag and looked inside, but she didn’t find any kind of costume. Instead, it was full of face paint. As she looked back up at him, he sighed and shrugged.
“I need you to turn me into something.”
Violet lightly lifted a brow. “Please would be a nice thing to say.”
“Please.” He couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
She crossed her arms on her chest. “What do you wanna be?”
“I dunno. I figured you would be better at picking than me.” Harry was honest.
She smiled softly as her heart fluttered. He did things to her at times she couldn’t quite explain or comprehend. She stepped back and gestured him in.
“Come in, don’t be shy.”
Harry walked into the studio and let his eyes aimlessly wander around while Violet shut the door. She walked over to one of her tables that happened to be cleared off and sat his bag of supplies down. She plopped onto the chair and started to rummage through it.
“Is my costume good? I don’t look silly, do I?” She asked while sorting the items he brought.
From the second she opened the door, he’d wanted to compliment her outfit. The dress she had on was very pretty on her. The color fit her skin tone, the shape flattered her body, and the drape of the fabric made her look like an angel. The dress had short, puffy sleeves and a squared neckline. Her makeup was very glamorous, with a bit of whimsy here and there, and her hair was styled in a dreamy way. A sparkly tiara topped off the look. She looked like a real princess.
“No. You look fine.”
“I didn’t want to be anything scary.” She smiled as their eyes met.
“Princesses aren’t scary, don’t worry.” He said through an exhale. He pressed his hands on the table across from her and leaned down. “I want to be scary, though.”
“It’s coming across, yeah? That I’m a princess?”
“Yeah, the crown really seals the deal.” His smirk was full of amusement.
“Okay, good.” She giggled. “I didn’t want to buy anything new to wear.” She looked down at her dress and gently ran her hand over the fabric covering her stomach.
“You look like a princess.”
She felt her cheeks heat up at his words. It was time to move on before she exploded.
“So, scary, hm? Any ideas?”
“Not really.” He shook his head.
She combed through the options on the table while thinking about what she could pull off. It was flattering to know he had faith in her to do it right. He’s never been shy about complimenting her talents before, so it wasn’t surprising.
“We could do a clown or.. or like a skeleton.”
Harry licked his lips. “What are you more afraid of?”
“Clowns are creepy.” She snarled her lip slightly.
“Then make me a scary clown.”
Violet liked the way his laugh was laced through his words. She really adored seeing him display joy and happiness. It wasn’t often, and she wasn’t quite sure it was very natural, but she still cherished it each time.
“Alright.” She stood up and pointed to the chair. “Have a seat.”
Harry took a deep breath as he sat down. He was holding another bag, which he placed on the floor next to his feet. Violet noticed it and became curious.
“What’s in the other bag?” Her eyebrows lifted.
He instantly picked it back up and stuck his hand inside. “Oh, this is for you. I, uh, found it at the library. They were selling some books.”
She didn’t expect for him to pull out an art book. She gladly took it from him and examined the cover. As much as she was excited about the gift, she couldn’t seem to shake the image of him picking through books on a library shelf. She recalled seeing books at his place, maybe he was more into the hobby than she figured.
“You frequent the library, hm?”
He smiled lightly. “Occasionally, yeah. Do you have this one?”
She double checked the title and did a quick flip through. “No, no. I don’t. This is lovely, thank you.”
Harry felt his heart swell as a beautiful smile covered her face. He was glad to make that appear.
“You’re welcome. I figured you’d like it since it was eighteenth and nineteenth century based.” He tried to tone down his excitement and make himself seem less interested than he was, but he wasn’t doing too well at that.
Violet gave him a firm nod before walking over to her main work desk near her shelves. “Yeah, it’s right up my alley. I’ll find a good spot for it later.”
Harry noticed the area close to her. It was cluttered with what looked like some kind of photography scene. It was rather whimsical and full of color.
“What’s with the set up over there?” He asked curiously.
She glanced back at it. “Oh, um, a friend of mine, she’s a photographer, uh, took some photos of me for reference.”
“Reference for what?” His brows furrowed as the curiosity grew.
Violet took a very deep breath. “Well, for.. for Alice.”
There was an odd spark in his chest. Where did that come from? He swallowed gently, his eyes watching her closely as she started to pick through the costume makeup. She was purposefully not looking at him.
“You mean.. like, Wonderland Alice?”
“Mhm. You suggested it, remember?” Violet’s voice softened, but he could tell she wasn’t upset or anything bad.
Perhaps a tad bashful. How silly of her to ask if he remembered. He remembers every moment they’ve ever shared together. He could easily recall any conversation, any word, any remark. Every little thing.
“Yeah, I remember. I just didn’t think you’d do it.”
Violet gave him a look. “I said I'd try it out.”
“Oh. I hope to see how it goes.”
“If I do anything with the photos, I’ll tell you about it.” She smiled as she shifted her eyes to let his. “Do you want your whole face painted white or do you just want the eyes, nose, and mouth done?”
Harry chewed on his cheek as he thought about it. “I’d rather not have paint all over. If you think you can do it without the white, that’ll be better.”
Violet cocked a brow at him. “I can do it. Are you doubting me now?”
“No, definitely not.” He grinned.
The second her fingers touched his jaw to angle his head, he felt his chest tighten. The simplest touch from her could cure him of any sickness. She was full of magic, he was sure of it. Harry watched her select the items she wanted to use. He bought a few kits that came with cheap brushes, so she opened those to get them out.
Violet was locked in on the task at hand. She didn’t say a word for a couple of minutes as she worked the brushes in the costume paint and smeared it perfectly on his face. She wasn’t going off a reference since she was confident in her ability. Harry didn’t dare ask how things were going. She was intensely staring at his face as she worked and it sort of intimidated him. How strange it was to feel intimidated by someone dressed as a princess.. He liked it.
“Hold still.” Violet huffed as she grabbed his chin to keep his head in place.
“Getting rough with me, yeah?” He held in his laugh, but his smirk was uncontrollable.
She playfully rolled her eyes and let him go. “Not yet, but I will if you don’t sit still.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled back.
He managed to stay still and not get distracted by her. It was most likely due to the fact he had to keep his eyes closed as she applied the face paint. Every now and then, she’d have to grab his chin and mutter about keeping still, which would just make him chuckle and abide. Whenever her fingers press into his skin, the world would stop spinning for a moment or two.
Violet didn’t say much the entire time. She was focused completely on doing the clown makeup correctly, while also making it scary. It didn’t take them very long to finish.
Harry helped her throw everything back into the bag he walked in with. As he moved his hand, she noticed something that seemed very surreal.
“Your nails aren’t painted.” She said in a low voice.
He looked down at his fingers. “It all chipped off. I haven’t gotten around to painting them.”
She grabbed the trash from the packaging and walked off to toss it. “I have some black polish if you want to use it. I don’t use it very often.”
Harry’s eyes followed her as she moved around the studio. “What else do you have?”
“Huh?” She quickly glanced over her shoulder at him.
“What other colors?”
“Oh, um.. all colors, pretty much.” She grabbed the container of nail polish off the counter and carried it back to where he was sitting.
“Do you care if I pick one?”
She taught his gaze. “You don’t want black?”
“I’ll switch it up for tonight.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.
She thought it was odd. She’s only ever seen him wear black polish. Maybe he was just in a black polish phase. He could be the kind of person to stick to one color for a few months then abandon it for another. She wasn’t sure, and she was far too anxious to ask. So, she slid the container over to him and smiled.
“Yeah, you can pick.”
She watched as he picked through the bottles of polish. He sat a couple down on the table as he came across ones he liked. Violet was curious to see which one he’d choose.
His eyes darted up. “Do you want to do it?”
“Pick a color?”
“No, paint them.” He smiled gently.
The thought of touching his hands was very intriguing and intense. It was making her heart skip beats and her stomach fall to her feet. Did she want to touch him? Of course. But more than anything, she needed to touch him.
“Do you want me to?” She swallowed as lightly as she could.
He looked back at the bottles. “My bare nails seem to bother you, so I figured you’d want to fix it.”
A giggle escaped her mouth. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s just not normal.”
“You don’t have to do it.” He shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it.
He’s never been big on flirting or teasing. He’s always just good at getting straight to the point and stating what he wanted from someone. But Violet made it all very different. He didn’t know how to talk to her, didn’t know how to express what he really wanted to say. So, sometimes he’d get too shy or embarrassed and just try to brush it off.
“No, I will. I don’t mind.”
As she picked up the bottle to give it a few shakes, she turned it over and read the name. A small laugh came from her, capturing his attention. He looked up at her with his brows furrowed.
“What is it?”
The prettiest grin flashed across her face. “This is called.. dark violet.”
“Guess I have good taste.” He felt his stomach twist.
Violet pulled up the other chair next to him and sat down. She took hold of his hand, trying her best to stay dissociated so she wouldn’t blush or squeal or do anything embarrassing. It was difficult, though. His skin was warm, and his eyes were fixed on her face as she brushed the polish onto each nail.
“It doesn’t have to be perfect.” He mumbled while she squeezed his finger to keep it steady.
She glanced at him. “If I’m doing it, it does have to be perfect.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She carefully coated each nail with the polish, being sure to not smear it onto his skin. She was precise and focused, like with everything else she did.
After letting his nails dry and Violet spending a few minutes tidying up the studio, they left to go to the party. Getting into Harry’s car was a bit daunting. She didn’t say a word the entire ride. Harry didn’t say anything, either. They were both nervous and too afraid to speak.
Violet wasn’t entirely sure where they were going. When he pulled up on a very packed street, she felt her stomach seize up. There were a lot of cars. She could only assume there were a lot of people. There was a big house decorated on the outside with spooky Halloween decor and lights. She could see small groups of people gathered in the front yard. That must be the party spot.
Just as Harry turned off the car, his phone started to ring. He answered it with a huff. Violet kept her lips sealed as she waited.
“What?”
Niall was on the other end of the call. “Are you here yet?”
“I just pulled up.” Harry rolled his eyes.
“Alright.”
He shoved the phone into his pocket as he opened the door. He watched Violet get out of the car and fix her dress. She smiled sweetly as their eyes met. Niall caught a glimpse of Harry, so he decided to wait for them in the driveway. He was dressed as a vampire and so was his girlfriend. Violet recognized her from the shop. She wondered if Sky was nice or if she acted like Niall. He wasn’t necessarily mean, but he wasn’t the sweetest person she’s ever met.
“You’ve met Sky, right?” Harry said as they approached them.
“Yes, we’ve met.” Sky answered with a smile.
“Do you drink?” Niall asked with his brows high.
Violet swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. “Um, not really. I’ve had alcohol before, but not.. not in a while.”
“You gotta get drunk or high. Which one you picking?”
“I’ve.. I’ve never been drunk, and I don’t necessarily want to get high.” She hesitated to answer.
“Oh, then we’ll get you drunk.”
Harry sighed and stuck his hand out to stop Niall from trying to take possession of her. “No, we’ll give her some drinks. She doesn’t have to get wasted.”
“We’ll have a good time, Violet.” Sky grinned, then shifted her eyes to Harry. “I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”
Harry clenched his jaw. He didn’t want Violet to know he cared so much. He grabbed her elbow and gently pulled her away from them. Violet let her head fall back so she could gaze up at him. He licked his lips and pushed out another deep breath. He had been sighing a lot since they arrived.
“Listen to me, aright? Do not accept any drinks from anyone besides me, Niall, and Sky. Understand?” His voice was stern and so was his stare.
Violet nodded. “Yes.”
“There’s gonna be a lot of people. If we get separated, just call me, okay?”
“Okay.”
He went to walk away, but she grabbed his hand and drug herself closer to him. Harry furrowed his brows and looked down at her.
“Do I look silly?” She asked with a soft pout.
“What are you talking about?”
Violet cut her eyes from him for a few moments. “Everyone I’ve seen looks scary. Do.. do I look stupid?”
“No, you’re wearing a costume. You look fine.”
“Promise?” Her pretty eyes were wide and sparkly like always, even while being filled with worry.
“Yes. If anyone has an issue with your costume, send them my way and I’ll handle it.” He couldn’t resist smiling.
She sighed, releasing his hand. “Okay.”
“C’mon.”
Harry put his hand on the small of her back and gave her a gentle nudge. He didn’t keep his touch there, which was disappointing for her. The closer they got to the house, the louder the music became. Violet swallowed nervously, was this a mistake? She’s never been into things like this before. Bars, parties, large get togethers.. they were not her thing.
When the door opened, she nearly fainted. There were tons of people inside. They were dancing, shouting, and laughing on top of the loud music. A cloud of smoke filled the air. A mixed smell of spilled beer and marijuanna was strongly present, too. This was definitely not her sort of thing.
She wasn’t sure what to do, but the moment Harry’s hand returned to her back to push her forward, she felt relieved. He hadn’t disappeared. They followed Niall into the kitchen. He seemed to know his way around. She didn’t recall either of them telling her any details about the party, perhaps they knew who owned the house?
As the large double doors in the kitchen swung shut behind them, the noise from the living room became more tolerable. Violet looked up at Harry, not sure what they were doing. He glanced at her, feeling her stare on him.
“Matt’s got an open bar.” Niall called out over his shoulder.
“Who’s Matt?” Her voice was soft, but Harry heard her.
“He owns the place.” He gently pushed her forward.
She started to walk towards Niall, hesitant but willing only because she knew Harry was right behind her.
“He’s a dealer.” Niall added.
She felt her chest tighten. “Oh.”
“Shut up, Niall.” Harry rolled his eyes. There were certain things about him that Violet didn’t know, and he was hoping to keep it that way.
“That means he’s got enough money to have an open bar at a fucking Halloween party.” Sky joined in on the topic.
It only made Violet more nervous. Everyone was in the loop except her. It wasn’t an outrageous thing to imagine Harry being into illicit activities, but that didn’t mean she wanted to believe it was true. Maybe it was just weed.. that wasn’t so bad. She didn’t consider that a dangerous thing.
“What do you want?” Niall’s voice snapped her back to reality.
“I.. I don’t know.”
“I got it.” Sky nudged him out of the way and handled getting her and Violet a drink.
Harry stood there quietly as he watched, keeping an eye on her reactions and behavior. She seemed nervous, but that was to be expected. As long as she didn’t look terrified, he wasn’t going to overreact.
“Here. You should like this.” Sky grinned as she handed Violet the cup.
She sniffed it, scrunching her nose up at the scent. Harry shifted his gaze to Sky, wanting to know what was in the cup. She ignored his stare and waited for Violet to take a sip.
“Oh.” She was pleasantly surprised. “This is good.”
Sky grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back from Harry. “C’mon, let’s go dance.”
“I.. I don’t dance.” Violet looked back to Harry as she was being tugged away.
He gave her an encouraging nod and a smile, hoping it would ease her nerves. Niall waited until the girls had disappeared before clearing his throat and speaking up.
“You gotta relax.”
Harry furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about?”
“You stare at the girl like you want to fuckin’ eat her, and not in a good way.”
“I’m just watching out for her.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Which is what I need you to do tonight.”
“Why the fuck do I have to watch her?”
“I didn’t say watch her all night, just.. just check on her and don’t let her get too far away.” Harry clarified.
Niall was not on board with this, but he knew he’d catch hell if he didn’t agree to it. Sky had already warned him to be mindful of Violet tonight. Getting bitched at by his girlfriend and his best friend wasn’t something he wanted.
“Do you want a drink, lover boy?” Niall asked with a cocky smirk.
“No.”
Typically, Harry would never turn down a drink. But tonight things were different, Violet was his responsibility. He wasn’t going to let himself get impaired and risk something happening to her. He’d never forgive himself. Besides, she didn’t need to see him drunk or high. That’s not how she knew him, not how they are around each other.
In the large living space, the crowd was dancing and singing along to the music. Some people were doing more than just dancing. It made Violet keep her eyes to herself. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. She didn’t want to seem lame so she downed the drink very quickly. Sky was trying to find them a spot to stand, but when she looked back and saw the empty cup, she changed the trajectory of her steps. Violet was yanked back into the kitchen. Sky broke out in laughter.
“I thought you said you didn’t drink!”
“I.. I don’t, really.” She smiled back, the effects of the alcohol starting to kick in.
“I’ll grab you another.”
“Where’s.. Harry?” She asked while looking around.
“There’s no telling.” Sky left her standing by the doors.
There was a warmth boiling under her skin and a dizziness in her head. She figured that the loud music and smoke weren’t helpful in preventing a headache, but in reality it was the liquor. She considered pulling her phone out and trying to call Harry, but she chose not to. She couldn’t be a loser so soon. She had to toughen up and trust Sky.
“Here. This has more alcohol.” She returned with another cup.
Violet shook the cup to spin the ice around. “Are we dancing now?”
“Yep!”
Her stomach was already feeling queasy, but she tried to ignore it. Sky pulled her into the crowd and immediately started to dance with her arms up in the air. Violet was not entirely confident about dancing, but she knew that nobody was actually concerned with what they were doing. No eyes were on her, nobody cared. So, she started swaying her hips and sipping the drink.
Across the room, Harry stood against the wall with Niall next to him. He could see Violet every few seconds in between the people around her. When they’d move, she’d appear. Watching her felt like both a task and a necessity.
It wasn’t long before Sky was pulling Violet back into the kitchen. Harry knew she’d be fine, so he didn’t attempt to follow them. He was unaware of their prior return, though, and he didn’t think Violet was the one getting another drink.
“Ease up.”
Harry huffed as Niall shoved his shoulder. “Shut up.”
“She’s alright.” Niall rolled his eyes.
He didn’t need the reassurance, and he definitely didn’t ask for it. He didn’t care about anything except Violet’s whereabouts. As long as he could see her, then everything was fine. She was safe and within his vicinity. It was fine.
It was fine, until it wasn’t. After an hour of him lurking around watching Violet dance, Sky decided they needed yet another round of drinks. Niall walked off as he saw them heading to the kitchen, but Harry stayed put.
He had lost count of how many times the girls went to get drinks. It was slightly worrying, but he stayed calm. Violet wasn’t far from him. He knew exactly what she was doing and who she was with.
He stared at the kitchen door until they came out of it. Niall left them to do their own thing, returning to his spot next to Harry. It was obvious that the drinks had caught up to Violet. She was around five or six drinks in, possibly a couple more but he wasn’t sure.
Sky was just as drunk, and it became more evident when they started to dance on each other instead of just in front of one another. Harry clenched his he as he watched Violet press her ass into Sky’s body. He wasn’t jealous or anything like that, more like tempted. He didn’t want to watch her move like that, watch her slide her hands down her own body, but he couldn’t look away.
Even though she had the flowing dress on, he knew what was beneath the fabric. He’s touched her hip, pressed his hand onto her thigh.. The thoughts made him swallow hard. He could’ve managed to ignore it if it hadn’t been for Niall.
“That’s kinda hot.” He gave Harry a smirk. “Y’know, we could—”
“Fuck off, Horan.” He cut him off.
He knew exactly what was about to say and he didn’t want to hear it. Niall laughed loud, finding more amusement in this than Harry.
“M’just playing.”
Harry blew a huff out of his mouth. “I need a smoke.”
Although the backyard wasn’t unoccupied, Harry felt like he had more space to breathe. Without sparing a second, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Impure thoughts were filling his mind, tempting images appeared and desires burned through him. Violet always looked beautiful, but tonight she was stunning. Something about the way she moved her body while she danced was captivating. All he could think about was sex.
It was impossible to not think of her that way. He wasn’t objectifying her. He wanted to worship her body from head to toe. His possessiveness over her had nothing to do with wanting to control her. He simply just wanted her. He wanted to be hers. There was no way he could ever do that, no way he would allow himself to get that close with her. She deserved way more than he could ever offer her. He would destroy her.
Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the combined laughter of the three people walking up behind him. As he blew smoke out of his mouth, a finger tapped on his shoulder blade. He jumped and snapped around as if he was going to go off in a fit of rage, but that anger fizzled away when he locked eyes with Violet.
She grinned. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
He sighed lightly and shook his head. “It’s fine.”
His eyes scanned over her features. She was definitely drunk, there was no doubt about that. Her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him, smiling in the cutest way he’s ever seen. Her lips parted, but before she could speak, Niall interrupted.
“Do you wanna hit?”
Violet looked over and saw the thing Niall was holding between his fingers. She swallowed harshly and darted her eyes to Sky, who was waiting for the answer.
“Is that..” Her soft voice trailed off.
“Yeah.” Harry reached for her waist and gently pulled her a few steps away. “You don’t need to mess with that right now.”
She looked down at his hand before it fell back to his side. Slowly, she crept her gaze up his chest and over his painted face. Did she actually want to try it out? No, but Harry didn’t have to know that. She figured it might make her seem more interesting and cool. He liked that sort of thing, right?
“I can try it.” She shrugged.
“No, you’re drunk.” Harry gave her a serious look.
Niall rolled his eyes. “Give her the cigarette instead.”
That idea sounded more appealing. “Yeah, let me try!”
He huffed at her grin. Why was she excited about this? He licked his lips as he rolled the cigarette between his thumb and index finger. Violet flashed him another cute smile and batted her lashes again.
“You’re not gon’ like it.” He gave in too easily.
She took the cigarette from him and brought it to her lips. All she could really think about was the fact this thing had been in between his lips. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle as she started to cough and wave her hand in front of her face to clear the air. She gave it back to him and rapidly shook her head.
“No, I.. I don’t like that at all.”
Violet glanced over towards Niall, but he had walked off with Sky. She saw them wrapping their arms around each other and kissing like they were alone. It made her slightly uncomfortable. Harry finished off the cigarette in their shared silence. From the redness of her eyes and cheeks, he assumed she was very drunk. It was obvious she didn’t do this a lot, her body didn’t tolerate it.
“Harry.” She tilted her head back, those sparkling eyes gazing up at him.
“Yeah?”
“Can you get me another drink?”
“C’mon.” He nodded his head towards the house.
Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist. “Oh, oh! Then we can go dance!”
Her excited expression was rather adorable. He laughed lightly and started guiding her to the door.
“We’ll see.”
Harry let her keep his wrist in her tight grip as they weaved through the crowds and past people to get to the kitchen. Her head was pounding, the music couldn’t even penetrate it. She chose not to say anything about it in fear of being seen as a wimp. Did she think Harry would actually be irritated with that? No, but her mind was foggy.
“Hey.” Harry tugged her into the corner.
The sudden movement made her stomach drop in a not very pleasant way. She moved her eyes up to his and furrowed her brows.
“How many drinks have you had?”
She could see he was concerned, but she shook her head and mumbled. “I dunno. Four, I think.”
“I think it’s been more than four.” Harry looked down at her hand as she let him go. He didn’t want her to do that. “What exactly have you been drinking?”
Violet tried to recall if she was told anything. “I.. I don’t.. know. Just whatever Sky gives me.”
Her eyes wandered off and it immediately caught his attention. He grabbed her elbow and leaned down so she would definitely hear him.
“You’ve gotta slow down, okay? You’re gonna get sick.”
She laughed it off. “M’fine. It’s fun! I’m having fun, Harry.”
He let go of her arm. “Stay right here. Don’t move.”
“Okay.” She chirped out a response.
She had never had more than two drinks at a time. The things her body was experiencing were strange. She didn’t quite understand it. Her body felt weightless, yet her head was throbbing with aches and her eyelids felt as heavy as stone. Her mind was a blur, yet all she could think about was Harry. Even when she was dancing earlier with Sky, her mind kept spinning on and on about him - more than usual.
She watched him from across the room. His arms were so nicely sculpted, his frame tall and broad. It was making her insides melt. Even though his features were covered by the clown paint, she kept thinking about how gorgeous he was. Nothing could obscure that.
When he returned, he gave her the cup. She flashed him a bright smile.
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.” He sighed as she instantly started to take big gulps of the drink. “Violet, slow down. I’m not gonna take it from you.”
“Fun, Harry. I’m having fun.” She giggled as she licked the drops off her lips.
He swallowed at the sight, but pushed away his thoughts. “You won’t be having fun when you’re throwing up later.”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed him, this time opting to actually take his hand. “C’mon, dance with me!”
He let her lead the way this time. It was difficult for him to tolerate the loud music and everything going on around them without alcohol in his body, but he knew he had to ignore it for her sake. He needed to keep a clear head so he could look after her. Violet drug him in the middle of the crowd of people dancing and started to jump around. He wanted to stop her from chugging the drink, but it was gone before he even realized what she was doing. She grabbed his other hand and tried to get his arms to move, but he barely let her have control.
“Dance!” She yelled out, laughing as she flopped his arms around.
He shook his head and gave her a smile, not wanting her to think he was in a bad mood. He just didn’t like doing that sort of thing. After a minute, she let his hands go and threw her arms in the air. She had never heard the current song before, but she was acting like it was her favorite one ever created.
It was quite amusing to watch her dance and bob her head around to the music. A clear thought hadn’t processed through her brain since she finished the first drink. The moment she reached for his neck with both of her hands, all of her usual worry and anxiety ceased to exist. The alcohol had consumed her entirely. Harry licked his lips as he took hold of her forearms to pull her arms down. She shook her head and laughed at him as she managed to sling her arms around his neck. She pulled herself upward, forcing their bodies together.
Harry’s hands fell on her waist, gripping her tight to keep her steady. “Violet.”
“Dance with me, Harry!” She grinned as her hand slid up to cradle his jaw.
He leaned his head back, trying to get free, but she didn’t let him. Holding her like this was something he had only dreamed of before now. He kept his hands in place, though. He didn’t dare move them down.
Even with his tight hold, she was swaying her body and moving her hips in ways that made his stomach fill with butterflies. He shouldn’t be thinking of her this way. It was too hard to ignore it. One of her hands fell down to his chest where she fisted his shirt. The feeling of her being so close to him, literally holding on to his body was intense. He couldn’t fight it.
As he stared down at her beaming smile, he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to kiss her lips. It was something he wanted to do so damn bad, but he knew he shouldn't. Yet, he didn’t stop himself. His lips touched hers softly, making both of their hearts spark. Violet gripped his nape and tried to push further into him, but he leaned up and shook his head. She gave him a pout, hoping it would ease him up. It didn’t work. If he gave in to her, he’d regret it. He was nothing but trouble, nothing but a walking disaster. It had happened so fast she wasn’t even sure if it was real.
She attempted again, trying to yank him down to her level, but he didn’t let her. Harry sighed and let go of her waist. Violet was about to protest, but he quickly grabbed her hand and started pulling her behind him. She wrapped her hand around his wrist to keep her balance.
Harry didn’t let up until he had her in the backyard. She looked around, confused on how they ended up out here. He led her to a bench that sat on the patio. It was quieter out here and less people were suffocating them.
“What are we doing?” She asked confused as he sat down, finally letting go of her.
“Taking a break.” He huffed, avoiding her eyes.
Violet looked at the open spot next to him, but that didn’t seem very comfortable or desirable right now. Without hesitation, she propped herself on his lap. Harry held his hands up away from her body.
“Violet.”
His stern voice didn’t scare her. She giggled sweetly and shrugged as her arm went around his neck.
“You’re comfy.”
A defeated exhale left his mouth. “And you're drunk.”
Her fingers started to twirl in the hairs at the bottom of his head. “I don’t care.”
“I care.”
Harry tried his best to get her arm down, but she locked her elbow and opted to slide her fingers into his hair to keep herself anchored. He gave her a look, trying to convey that he was serious, but she ignored it. She might be drunk, but she was certain of at least one thing — Harry was not intimidating right now. Every time before this, he definitely was. One glance from him could make her anxiety flare up, one touch would send her heart into overdrive. But right now? Nothing could scare her. The alcohol had given her a superpower, and she was determined to use it.
“M’okay, Harry. Don’t have to worry.” She whispered to him, her eyes moving down his face.
His eyes were pretty to glare at, but all she could think about were his lips. She wanted to feel them again, for longer than just a second. She wanted to taste his mouth, feel his tongue against hers. She wanted this. He couldn’t come up with anything to say as he watched her stare at his mouth. Her hand came up to touch his jaw, tilting his head back slightly. He sighed the moment she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his chin.
“Violet, wait.” He grunted as a kiss touched the corner of his mouth.
“No, please, let me.” She muttered against his lips, her eyes already closed.
“You don’t want to do this.. you’re just drunk.” He grabbed her forearm, but the moment he felt her warm skin against his, he couldn’t pull away. He froze in place with her. “Vi.”
She smiled at the cute nickname he had never used before. “No, I do. M’good at kissing, Harry.”
“I’m sure you are, but—”
Violet pressed a kiss to his lips. To both of their surprise, he returned it. His hand finally took hold of her hip as he let her push her tongue through his lips. She kissed him like she’d never see him again. There was a small fear she’d never get to do this again, so why not make the most of it? Kissing Harry, really kissing him, felt like a dream come true. It was everything she had imagined it would be, and she had definitely imagined it. All of the confusing feelings and conflicting thoughts finally made sense. She was truly obsessed with him, fascinated by his existence. He was all she wanted.
Harry was just as lost in the kissing as she was, until he realized her fingers were pulling at his hair. This can’t happen, this can’t be something they think is normal. He grunted lightly and tore his lips from hers.
“Mm, Vi.”
She was breathing heavily as she tried to catch her breath. “See? Told you I was good.”
He gave her a gentle shake of his head. “You can’t do that again.”
She cocked a brow at him and smirked. “Oh yeah? Watch me.”
This time both of her hands grabbed his face. He melted in her palms. He slid his tongue over hers and savored every second of it. But it couldn’t last long, it just couldn’t ever happen again. He pulled away, turning his head to dodge her lips. She peppered kisses over his cheek, trying to coax him back in.
“Stop, Violet. Stop.” His stern voice was once again not threatening to her.
“Harry, please.”
“No.”
“Let me kiss you.” She whined, pushing his hand away as he tried to pull her arm down.
“Violet.”
Her forehead fell against his, her fingers rubbing his skin as she tried her hardest to change his mind. How hard could it be? Surely he wanted this as much as her. It would break her heart if he didn’t.
“Kiss me, Harry. Please.. kiss me.” She begged in the softest voice she’s ever used.
He shook his head, his voice low. “No, Violet.”
“W-why?” Her stammer made his heart sink.
“Because.”
“Because you.. you don’t..” She was too afraid to say it.
You don’t want me. You don’t like me. You don’t want to kiss me.
“You’re drunk.”
She pushed a lump down her throat. “I know what I want.”
“I.. I can’t, Vi.” He squeezed her hip, hoping it would help give her some comfort.
A sadness covered her pretty face. “You know.. what you want. You don’t.. want to.”
“Violet—”
She suddenly let him go and stood up. She fixed her dress and took a deep breath. Harry jumped up the second she started to walk away. He hurried in front of her and held his hand up to stop her, too nervous to touch her again.
“Where are you going?”
He had rarely seen her angry. He couldn’t remember if he ever really had witnessed it before. But right now, she was mad. She rolled her eyes and huffed at him.
“To find Sky. I need a drink.”
Without saying anything else, she walked around him and headed for the door. He resisted the urge to chase after her. He sat down on the bench, pulling out his cigarettes almost immediately. It was his intention to burn through the entire pack before he got up again. He didn’t want a cigarette, he wanted something more, but he couldn’t do that tonight. He couldn’t let Violet discover that part of his life. She would wonder about it all she wanted, but she could never find out. It would make things worse than they already were.
Back inside, Violet was trying to find Sky or Niall, but she had a hard time seeing them under the flashing lights. The thick haze of smoke didn’t help either. Everything was loud and chaotic. Her brain couldn’t process anything. If she was staring right at either of them, she wouldn’t have known it. They weren’t around her, though. They had no idea she was searching for them. Niall left her with Harry, so he assumed she was being taken care of. It wasn’t his priority anyway.
She ended up in the kitchen. She lingered in the corner as she watched people walk in and out, the same corner Harry had pulled her in earlier. Thoughts of him filled her mind quickly. She groaned and tried to push it all out. He hurt her feelings, now was not the time to lust over him.
“Princess or a queen?”
An unfamiliar voice made her flinch. She looked up and met the eyes of a complete stranger. He didn’t have any sort of costume on, just a beer in his hand and a smirk on his face.
“What?”
He glanced down at her dress. “Are you a princess or a queen?”
She followed his eyes down and remembered where she was. A sigh slipped out as she pressed her hand against her forehead. The question reminded her of earlier in the day when she asked Harry about her costume.
“Um, a princess.” Violet tossed her hands up. “I’m a princess.”
“Well, you’re quite a pretty one.” He smiled more genuinely this time.
She stared at the guy for a few moments, taking in his features and his presence. He wasn’t ugly by any means. Compared to Harry, he was an average looking guy. There were no obvious tattoos or piercings, no dark liner or polish. He was what she normally found herself attracted to. There she was again thinking about Harry when she had no reason to. The thoughts frustrated her so much that she made a quick decision to ditch the guy.
Entering the living room felt like she was transported to another world. Everything was more amplified than before. The music, the crowd, the smells - everything was banging hard on her senses. It was overwhelming and stressful. Her stomach began to churn. She pressed her hand on her body, hoping that it was just her nerves and not anything else.
Unbeknownst to Violet, Harry’s plans on smoking all of his cigarettes had ended when he got the not so smart idea to distract himself with something more fulfilling than a stick of tobacco. He threw down the half smoked cigarette and made his way inside. He didn’t care where Violet was, or so he was trying to convince himself of that. His goal was to get someone to completely wipe away the thought of her.
Violet leaned herself against a wall. Her body began to ache in different places as she stood there quietly, staring at the floor. She didn’t want another drink. She didn’t want to dance. She just wanted to leave, but she didn’t know how. Niall and Sky were nowhere to be seen. She was alone.
She stayed in the same spot for a while, just gazing at the floor as she disassociated from reality. All she could see in her mind were images of Harry. Why didn’t he want to kiss her? She didn’t want to believe that he didn’t like her in some way. Surely he did. It felt like he did. She really hoped that he did. Maybe he didn’t.
She began to think of ways she could ditch their friendship. There was no way she would be able to ever face him again after he rejected her. Maybe it was her turn to completely ignore him for weeks, but instead of coming back she’d just never speak to him again. She could quit her volunteer work at the shelter and never have to see his mother again. She could avoid the area of town where the tattoo shop was. She could just simply go back to how things were before she ever knew him. That would be virtually impossible. There was no way in hell she’d ever be able to forget him.
Someone walked by her, creating a gust of air that caught her attention. She looked up and started staring into the crowd. Nothing mattered for a bit, until she shifted her gaze and saw something truly heart shattering.
Harry was amongst the crowd of dancing people with his hands on a girl’s body. Violet furrowed her brows as she looked over the girl’s appearance. She looked nothing like her. Everything was different, from her hair color to her height to her build. It was all different. That was it. That was why he didn’t want to kiss her.. because she didn't look like that. What hurt her more was the realization that he was laughing and actively dancing with this girl. He was letting her grind her body on him, touching her in ways that Violet could only dream of. He didn’t want to do that with Violet..
She pushed herself off the wall and ran to the kitchen doors. She shoved them open just in time to run smack into that same guy that she spoke to before. He grabbed her arm and laughed as he helped her steady her feet.
“Sorry, princess.” He smiled.
Something about that made her feel different. It made her feel wanted. She licked her lips and looked down at his other hand, which was now occupied by a plastic cup. Now was her chance to pick up the fun and enjoy the party.
“What are you drinking?” She asked with a smirk.
[a/n: enjoy the cliff hanger! very interesting stuff to come.. I included the teaser photo above so there’s no teaser post for this update..]
Harry being awarded the prestigious Golden Blue Peter Badge in recognition of his exceptional career and inspiration to young people. (via BBC) Blue Peter is the longest-running children’s TV show in the world.
Harry has more money than he knows what to do with. He decides he's going to spoil someone that doesn't seem to need all that much to be spoiled. It just so happens that person is also the newest intern at Styles Incorporated. It also just so happens that Harry is completely and accidentally enamored with her too.
hi all, here is the long-awaited masterlist! please note, my work is NOT for minors or larries. if you are either, please do not interact. as always, likes, reblogs, replies and asks are always appreciated. if you have any requests, please drop them here - i might not always get to them, but i do try my best! if you would like to be added to my taglist, please follow instructions here.
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happy reading! x
SERIES:
The princess and the knight 1 | 2 (ongoing)
knight!harry x princess!y/n - content: fluff.
Preview:
“Is it not peculiar that we have been in each other’s company for nearly a week, yet we do not know each other’s names?” She asked, a palm hugging her cheek. The knight did not spare a glance in her direction. “I was informed your name is Y/N, Your Highness.”
“You were informed correctly. But you have only answered half my inquiry,” Y/N retorted. This time he tipped his head down to the floor before replying, "My name should not be your concern.” Y/N thought the situation was rather silly. Was she to just call for nothing if she ever ran into danger? Although such an event was a rare possibility, she brought this up with the mysterious knight. “And if I ever require your rescue, how may I call upon you?”
“I shall never be apart from you, Your Highness. You shall never need to call upon me, as I will always be near you, under any circumstances.”
Casual 1 | 2 | 3 (completed)
fratboy!harry x unistudent!y/n - content: angst, smut.
Preview:
As it turned out, her text, which she thought was very chill and laid back, actually came off as way too strong when she reread it the next morning (heyy handsoke, u shud cum ov3r) but apparently Harry thought that made her even more attractive. "Endearing" was the exact word that he used later that week.
Instead of replying, he called her and made her giggle and blush over the phone, though if the poor girl was being honest, that only made her horny—she would usually get this way when she was anything but sober.
Within the next few minutes, he was at her apartment, and Y/N was on her knees, mouth stuffed, and drool dripping off of her chin as he prompted her to take him deeper into her throat.
Too sweet 1 | 2 | 3 (completed)
gang!harry x icecreamshopworker!y/n - content: fluff, angst.
Preview:
“How did he know I was here? Was he following me? How did you know I was here?” She took a step back, like she was frightened by Harry.
“I was just grabbing something to eat, I promise. Purely coincidental. But I’m pretty sure that that prick has had his eyes on you for a while now.”
“Oh my god. Oh my god.”
Harry looked down to see her breathing hard, her eyes getting glassy. He had to figure out a way to keep her calm and in check so as to not attract any unwanted attention. His hand on her waist tightened, attempting to ground her. “Hey, look at me. You’re okay, Y/N. I’ve got you.”
The salt on your skin 1 | 2 | 3 (ongoing)
bestfriendsdad!harry x yn - content: age gap, smut.
Preview:
Ella stepped aside, “Dad, this is Y/N, Y/N, this is my dad.”
Y/N stuck her hand out to greet him, trying to mask her shock and fake some confidence. It was then that she noticed that not only was he handsome, but he was decorated with tattoos which covered most of his arms and some parts of his legs. Judging by the ink that peeked out from his top, she knew there was probably more that she couldn’t see at the moment. Unfortunately for her, this only made him sexier.
His hand was huge compared to hers and also surprisingly warm. “Lovely to meet you, Y/N.” He gave her a polite, cordial smile. “You too, Mr. Styles.”
“Please, call me Harry.”
Yes, Mr Styles 1 | 2 | 3 (ongoing)
ceo!harry x pa!y/n - content: slight age gap, smut, fluff, angst.
Preview:
Stood by his desk was a girl— a very pretty one, in fact. Big, round eyes looked at him, resembling a deer, and a plush mouth was left agape as she eyed him up and down. She was wearing a sweet ensemble; a pretty pastel blue dress that fell just past mid-thigh and had a tiny slit on it. Her hair was swept back over her neck, tamed and neat.
He lingered his gaze on her as she straightened up from where she was bent over his desk and cleared her throat, “hi, Mr. Styles, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she extended a hand for him to shake, “I’m Y/N. Your new assistant.” The slight rise and fall of her chest gave her nerves away but her eye-contact never faltered. Her hand was warm and soft when he took it, and only then did the last-minute text from Mitch come back to him.
By the way, you’ve got a new assistant starting this week. Be nice to her.
This was her. Of course. He gave her a firm handshake, “Harry.”
ONE-SHOTS:
I had a few, got drunk on you
barsinger!harry x plussize!y/n - content: smut, public sex.
Preview:
She couldn’t believe what was happening— couldn’t believe how incredibly hot the sight before her was as he gently took her sticky hand and brought it up to his face. Y/N’s mouth and eyes were left agape while he slowly licked the thin droplets of fruity alcohol from the side of her index finger, before engulfing the tip of it in his mouth.
His eyes never faltered from hers, lips suckling softly at the skin and teeth barely clamping down before letting go. There was not a single thought in her head. Her underwear was unbearably soaked as rushes of butterflies flitted about her stomach, and if she had not shut her mouth, surely there would have been drool dripping down the side of it, akin to the current state of her thighs. Her lungs were devoid of any full breaths.
“What ar—”
“Come to the back with me.”
Six words.
Temporary fix
bffsexbf!harry x y/n - content: smut.
Preview:
“I didn’t do anything wrong, I was being civil until you started fucking accusing me of shit out of nowhere!”
She scoffed. “Wow, I cannot believe you. I don’t know if you act this way on purpose or you really can’t tell what the fuck is wrong with your brain.”
“Can you have a normal conversation with me without insulting me for a fucking second?”
His voice was getting louder and he was right in front of her, staring down angrily at her annoyed face. She could tell his jaw was tense and the sight was almost hot which was even more annoying. “I don’t want to have any conversation with you. I think I have made that pretty fucking cle—“
“—Will you shut the fuck up and listen to me!”
“Make me!”
Woman
jamaica!harry x crewperson!y/n - content: angst, smut.
Preview:
It was a gentle press at first—she could taste the strawberry chapstick he wore, and it made the kiss more sticky as he pulled back just to pluck her bottom lip with his thumb. Like an instinct, Y/N’s mouth pliantly fell open, letting him lick against her; deep and almost romantic in the way he held her face, like he didn’t ever want to let go. There were needy sounds exchanged betwee the two—a wet gasp for air; a groan which travelled from her hair down to her toes.
Before she knew it she was climbing his lap and the kiss got heated. Y/N didn’t know how long they remained like that; pressed against one another as they madeout sloppily, but she remembered how she felt when she finally pulled back to breathe. Her lips were tingly but it was the good kind.
Her hands were knotted in his freshly cut hair and he looked at her like she was the stars and the moon and the whole solar system at once.
Complicated freak
otralhh!harry x niallbestie!y/n - content: smut.
Preview:
“I was curious to meet you,” Harry began.
“Why?” She inquired.
“Niall talks about you enough,” He finished his drink.
“Does he?”
“Constantly,” He set the glass down, and Y/N laid a throw blanket on Niall’s body, biting back a smile as a certain fondness for her slumbering best friend washed over her.
“Hope I didn't disappoint.”
Harry looked at her for a second. “Not even close.”
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