Night Changes

9

I leaned my head back against the seat of the car, a soft sigh escaping me as I watched the green fields and stone houses pass by. The sky was a clear, bright blue, the only break in the color being the occasional white puff of cloud. My window was cracked open, letting the warm spring air flow into the car as we drove.

Harry squeezed my hand, a gentle reminder of his presence. I glanced over at him, his eyes still on the road in front of him. His thumb slid back and forth across the back of my hand, as I turned my attention back out the window.

Normally, I would hate being stuck in a car. I was not a fan of driving, and especially of long drives. The two and a half hour drive from London to Holmes Chapel was a long one, but for some reason, I didn’t mind it. It was a quiet, peaceful drive, and I found myself enjoying the view as the tall buildings and bustle of the city faded into green fields and cows of the country.

We were to leave for New York in less than a week, and therefore were making a trip up to Harrys childhood home town to spend a few days with his family.  I had met his mother and sister for the first time a few months prior, and needless to say I was a nervous wreck. I was usually nervous meeting new people, but when it came to meeting the mother of Harry Styles, that was another venture all together.

Harry spoke of his mother with such reverie, such adoration, it made me beyond nervous to meet the woman. My nerves, however, were immediately set at ease as she opened the door to the modest home, greeting me with a bright smile before pulling me away from Harry and into her arms. Harry was left grinning at us as he greeted his step father, Robin, the two men regarding us with silent humor.

It took only twenty minutes for me to understand with no reservation why Harry held his mother in such high regard. She was beautiful, sassy, and took absolutely no guff from Harry, which I loved. After a lovely lunch, I had spent the afternoon doing what all girlfriends must do when meeting their boyfriends mother for the first time: sitting on the couch with her, looking over old baby books, and hearing stories of his childhood much to his embarrassment.

“And here is Harry proudly wearing my bra,” Anne pointed out with a smile.

Harry groaned from his place in the chair adjacent to us, throwing his head back. “Mum, please, for the love of God, stop showing her those picture.”

Anne turned to him, her smile still intact despite his annoyance. “Would you rather me tell her the story of the time you sat in the bathtub when you were three and refused to let go of your willy because you thought it was going to fall down the drain?”

“MOTHER!” Harry shouted, his eyes wide and face blazing with embarrassment.

I burst out laughing, so much so my sides began to hurt. “Oh, please, please tell me this story.”

This visit, I would also be meeting Harrys sister Gemma. She had been travelling with friends during our last time in Holmes Chapel, so yet again, I was slightly nervous to be meeting yet another member of Harrys family.

Turning onto a quiet road, Harry turned to me.