Moonstruck ⟡ HS

12!

"Thanksgiving is coming up," She says, "I mean, it's at the end of this month, but you don't celebrate that, do you? I know it's an American thing, but I was just thinking about it, and—"

"Well, don't choke on it, J, spit it out." He chuckles with her hand still in his, causing her to gently laugh too with a small shake of her head.

"I was just wondering . . . if you're not going to spend it with anyone, you could come over for dinner?" She asks, and before he can even think about it, she keeps speaking. "You can say no if you want to, I just didn't want you to be by yourself, and I think my Dad already kinda knows about us, but I'm not sure. I mean, you're kinda friends with Johnny too, right? I don't know maybe—"

She rambles and rambles before he presses on to his tippy toes, leaning over the table separating them just to conjoin again, and with his lips smashed against her own, it takes all of him and then some to not stick his tongue to the fleshy walls of her mouth. They're always so warm, especially when wrapped around his throbbing cock, but now he has to pull apart, sit back down, and thank the waitress for his soda that won't taste nearly as good as her lips. 

"Kitten, I'd love to spend a Thursday evening eating dinner with you and your family—only if we can play footsies under the table." He requests, only to do the same now with his foot tapping against her own as she giggles in amusement. With the waitress ready to take their orders, he recites it for the both of them and she doesn't open her mouth to speak once, only to sip down some of the sugary lemonade that almost tastes as good as her grandmother's. It's not until their menus are taken from the table and the waitress leaves does the topic pick back up again from Harry's end. "Also, why do you think your Dad knows? Enlighten, please."

"He asked if you were nice to me."

"Randomly." He challenges with one of his brows cocked, as if he didn't believe that was the circumstance.

"Well . . . no." She sighs, running a hand through her hair while the other was wrapped around the glass of lemonade, her face dressed with a look of deep thought while trying to decipher whether her father knows much of anything. "I accidentally let it slip that I was at your house, and I made up something to cover it, and then he asked if you were nice to me."

She looked stressed, mainly because she was when it came to this topic, because unlike most teenagers she knew, the opinion of her father actually held some value to her. She adored Harry, she loved her father, and the mere thought of being put between them twisted her stomach in ways she didn't like. Her father was understanding, it's the easiest way to parent a teenage girl, but Harry was Harry—six feet tall, smothered in tattoos and a charming smile that had any girl to their knees. He was also the poster child for bad news to any sane father, which is why she was so anxious and troubled when it came to the idea of her father being aware of her relationship with Harry.

"He's probably just concerned about who you're spending your time with, kitten." He assures her, tearing her out of her cycle of thoughts that had been running since her father posed the question. "Not that he should be, but I get it."

"So, what should I do?"

"What do you wanna do?"

"Tell him."

"Yeah?" Harry smiles, albeit it's a subtle one, testing out her sincerity with his question, but when she nods her head while swallowing down her anxiety, he lets his smile widen and flourish along his lips. "I promise, I'll be good, alright? At least in front of your Dad, I dunno about when he's not around . . ." He trails off, causing her head to slowly shake while contrasting the smile fighting it's way on to her lips.