Adore [H.S.]

41

Awake My Soul - Mumford & Sons 

HARRY 

The roads were shitty. My car was even shittier. 

Everyone and their dog were on the roads going God-knows-where for this damn holiday. I get that it's a holiday. It's important. Jesus is alive. Brilliant. But do we really need to spend hours, forced with our loved ones, eating fucking roast because of it? Give me my fucking chocolate bunny and I'll be damn well. The only thing that is keeping me sane throughout this weekend was the pretty brunette sitting in on this overly-priced couch beside me. 

I reach over, resting my free hand (the one not gripping onto this glass of bourbon) on her jean clad knee. She was holding onto a glass of wine. Her nails were nervously picking on a the skin of her thumb. I squeeze her knee. 

Isabella looks over at me. She send me a shy smile, her eyes casting back down to her feet. 

"I'm so happy that you are here, Harry." Mum gushes from her seat across from us. Mark, the prick that he is, hasn't put down the damn paper. "Right, dear?" She nudges Mark with her knee. He looks up, mumbles a yes, and looks back to his paper. 

Isabella's soft hand squeezes my hand on her knee. I loosened my grip, not realizing I had tightened it. I look at her. She is looking me. Her smile growing slightly. I shoot her a  wink. A tinge of pink kisses her cheeks. 

"Thank you for having me over, Mrs. Beck." I physically cringe at she says my mothers new married name. She wasn't a fucking Beck. She was a Styles. 

"Oh, please call me Samantha." She smiles at Isabella warmly. Regardless of my mum's stupid choices in men, she was a kind woman. I knew that I had taken advantage of her kindness as a teenager. Especially after the incident. After her. "I'm just so glad that Harry brought you home. I hadn't realized he was seeing someone. He never mentioned it before." 

I feel Isabella's body stoop down. Her shoulders falling slightly. She is quick to cover up her sudden mood shift and laughs lightly. I look at her. She avoids my glance. "Harry's not much of a talker," mum continues to say. I turn my eyes to her, shooting her a glance. 

With two quick gulps, I finish my drink. The alcohol burns as it slips down my throat. I cough in result. "You okay?" Isabella asks me, her eyes laced with a hint of worry.

"Fine." I sit the glass down on the coffee table. It hits the glass a bit harder than I intended. "We're going to go to bed now. It's been a long day." 

I sit up fast. I turn to Isabella who is still siting down. She looks at me curiously, before finishing her glass of wine. 

"Alright Harry," mum stands up as well while Mark remains seated on his fat ass. "I placed guest towels on your bed as well as the guest bedroom for Isabella. There are fresh sheets too."

"Isabella isn't sleeping in a damn guest bedroom," I inform my mother. "She'll be staying with me in my room." 

Mum's cheeks blush in meek embarrassment. 

"No, it's fine. The guest bedroom is alright," Isabella intervenes. She gives me a pointed look, noticing my mothers embarrassment. I ignore it. There was no way in hell that I wasn't going to have Isabella in another bedroom when there was a perfectly sized bed in my bedroom. 

"No. You're staying with me." 

"Harry, it's fine." She whispers to me. 

"I'm sorry, dear. I shouldn't have assumed. Silly me. Of course you'd be staying with Harry in his room." Mum shakes her head as she laughs nervously. "Everything is set in your room, Harry. Have a goodnight."