daddy issues h.s ➽ [DISCONTINUED]

001.

okay so before this starts um fka twigs is a person of color so like if you're offended (and I highly doubt you are) you could stop reading if you feel like

and btw she's gorgeous and I believe Harry and her would make awesome babies idk

and holla I'm back on wattpad yay I guess lmao
➽

The first time my dad said he loved me was in a humid car at a football game. I was fifteen years old, wearing a sweatshirt my boyfriend at the time had given me. He was one of the football players, but that's besides the point.

My father hadn't said it out of love, it was out of guilt for some reason. He would always say the 'L' word to my sister, but never to me. It confused me, so after staring at him for what seemed like forever, I got out of the car and walked to the stadium with one of my best friends.

She could tell something was off about me, but she decided not to ask me any questions.

A week after that, we were at home, my mom had just left for work, and he was talking on the phone with my older sister who was in college at the time. Zoë and my father always had a strong bond. When they would have conversations, I would sit at the bottom of the steps and listen.

They would always talk about movies and actresses. My dad was a big James Bond fan, and Zoë wasn't, but they still would have a thirty minute conversation about the old movies. Even though it hurt me, I would still listen, close my eyes, and imagine that it was me instead of her.

Then he would say that he loved her, and that he missed her, and she would say the same before hanging up.

Just before he would walk upstairs, I would rush up into my room and probably lock my door to sneak out and take my mind off of things.

During my whole college experience, unlike my sister, I had only gotten about two calls ever year.

I would spend holidays with my friends, or in my dorm room, depending on what they were doing and if their family was comfortable with me spending thanksgiving and Christmas with them. I'm not going to pout about it because I'm just not the type of person to force people to do things. If my parents don't want to pick up the phone and call more often, I won't force them to.

"Stop sulking over there in the corner you depressed sack of shît," my very vulgar roommate rasped to me, waving a blunt in the air with a styrofoam cup in her hand. Sophia laughed and handed me one, and as usual it was filled with dirty Sprite.

"Depressed isn't an adjective." She wasn't the most pleasant roommate, but she only expected 200 a month, and with my job being a tattoo artist that was no problem.

"Come on, have some fun," she suggested whilst sitting on the couch with her legs in the air. She kicked her feet and threw her head so she was looking at me, and I bit my lip before answering back.

"No thanks."

She always does this, after working as a mall cashier 12:00pm to 8:00, you would always find a blunt rolled up in her hand and either a glass of wine in the other or on nights like these; a styrofoam cup filled with purple jolly ranchers and some pain killers. She only drank 'lean' on very stressful days.

"Shît," she drags out the foul word and I roll my eyes before getting up to get something to eat from the kitchen. "Today was just crazy,"

To my luck, she follows me down the hall and into the kitchen of our apartment, continuing to tell me about her day.

"This one customer was giving me such a hard time," she laughs out loud. "The bitch had the AUDACITY to tell me that I was doing my job wrong BEHIND the cashier, and you wanna know what I said?"

I hummed.

"I didn't say anything! Liam has been on my ass all month for going off on customers. So I said completely nothing and gave the bîtch her cardigan and went to the bathroom to cool down." Sophia tucked a brown strand of hair behind her ear as I reached up to get a pan from the cabinet.

She kept on talking, and most of the stuff I blocked out as the meal I was starting to cook had gotten into the pan on the stove.

"Liam is hot though, I would definitely fûck-"

"Jesus Sophia," I squinted at her, she wants to sleep with every attractive man on site, it doesn't matter if he's her boss or even a few years older than her. "Do you know where the cooking spray is?"

"I used it all," she said casually.

"Why didn't you get more...?" And she shrugged.

Ten minutes later I found myself at 10:39pm in a sweatshirt and jeans walking to the food market around the corner in the freezing late night fall weather.

As soon as I stepped inside, I headed for the aisle where we last bought the cooking spray, only to find some for baking which usually made food taste like cookies and pound cake. Sophia and I found out the hard way when she cooked eggs and when they turned out to be oddly sweet. She isn't a good cook either so that was a plus.

Out of frustration and impatience, I swiftly turned around to head to the frozen foods, but to my luck, an idiot was standing right behind me.

Before I could do anything stupid, he apologized very quickly and I bit back my words.

"I'm very sorry," he apologized ten times more after that, and I found a small smile of 'what the hell is wrong with this man' on my face. "Are you okay?" He asked, a strange British accent I hadn't noticed before masking his voice with a hint of concern.

He looked like he had just came from jogging, he had some black basketball shorts on and a gray hoodie, and his long hair was just a little damp from sweat. He had his food in a bag that he had probably brought from home, and I could tell that there were some healthy foods at the bottom.

"I'm completely fine um," I was just about to call him Sophia for some odd reason, and I giggled to myself with a silly grin slapped onto my face.

"Harry," he grinned and gulped before walking past me and turning around to walk backwards down the baking aisle. "Have a good night," he smiled and turned back around right before I did the same.

Then, suddenly something in me told me to turn around and see if he was looking back at me, and once I did I had caught him jogging back to me biting his lip and scratching the back of his neck.

"Yes?" I smiled, and it scare me how much I had been smiling in such a short amount of time.

"Could I have your number?" He asked politely and dug his phone out of his pocket before handing it to me.

"Sure," I took the phone with a shaky hand and typed in ten digits.

"I hadn't caught your name?" He grasped the phone and turned it off before shoving it back into his pocket.

"Anabel, but you can call me Ana." No one calls me Ana, but in this situation it just felt right to tell him. Even though the range in my voice probably made me sound like an idiot who didn't know how to speak, he raised his eyebrows and shook my hand politely.

"Nice to meet you, Ana,"