invasato [h.s]

50

"Harry, this place is amazing." I say, still taken aback, shaking my head.

"I thought you'd like it." he says, "as soon as I saw the neon, I was like 'yeah, she's gonna be talking about this for days.'"

I smile at his gesture, my chest experiencing the most comfortable warmth. "I do love neon."

"Well good." he pats my thigh, eyes looking into mine.

A waitress approaches our table, dressed fully in retro get up. She greets us with a big smile, ready to write our orders down.

"What can I get you?" she talks loudly over the music and partying.

Harry looks at me, "I guess we didn't even look at the menu."

I chuckle, realizing that we didn't even think about what we'd order at a diner, we were just distracted by each other. I look up at the waitress. "Can we have a little more time, please?" I ask politely.

She nods with a classic customer service smile. "Of course." she walks off.

I grab the menu laid out on the table in front of us. I open it and start scanning the options.

Next to me, Harry's phone chimes in his pocket. But, he doesn't go to pull it out right away, making me turn to him.

"Are you gonna check that?"

Hand on my thigh, he smiles. "No, we're on a date aren't we? Would be an asshole move."

I feel my cheeks flush and I bite my lip as I look back down at the menu to hide the way he made me blush. I knew he saw it though, I can feel the smirk on his face.

You called it a date, Harry.

"You can check," I laugh, "It could be important."

He gives my thigh a squeeze before going to pull out his phone. I look at the side of his face as he peers down at his screen.

My stomach tightens as I see the lightness fade from his cheeks, his jaw clenching. He takes in a sharp inhale, then shoves his phone back in his pocket.

"What was it?" I ask, scared that it could be one of our friends or Vincent—maybe something had gone wrong.

"My father." he mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

My shoulders tighten. I look at his face with parted lips, not knowing what to say immediately. He has talked about his father before, but not in full detail. I just know that they have a bad relationship.

"What did he say?"

He leans toward the table, elbows perched on the top while his folded hands are held by his mouth. His leg begins to bounce. I can tell that this message from his father is making him stress out.

"Harry?" I put my hand on his back.

He shakes his head. "He just said that we need to talk," he explains, "I never answer his texts, for good reason."

"Hey," I say, he looks at me. "Don't let him ruin your night. He's not worth it."

The curious part of me wants to learn more about his father—why he and Harry have such a horrible relationship and why Harry thinks he's such a bad person—but at the end of the day, it's not my business. I want Harry to be immersed in our date tonight, I want him to be happy tonight.

He allows his lips to curl into a soft smile, and he nods. He leans back, trying to relax. "I know, I'm sorry."

He extends his arm across the back of the seat, around me. I find myself naturally leaning into him like he was a magnet of comfort in a new place.