Night Changes | Unexpected Series Book Two

Chapter 12: One One's & Harry Harry's

        Harry's POV

"Oh are you serious?" Jamie shouts, waving his game controller around in the air as he stomps his feet, frustration evident as he loses to me again in a racing showdown.

I put my controller on the table and grin at him.

"This is dog," he shakes his head and mumbles.

I glance over at the clock and see that we should be leaving in about an hour to meet everyone for dinner.

"You guys should start getting yourselves ready for tonight," I remind them, "you know your mum hates being late for anything."

"You're right there Harry," Nick agrees, "the amount of times dad would be hurrying us along and we always had to end up waiting for him, mum would crack the shits so bad."

Curiosity gets the better of me as it's not that often I hear the kids talk about their father.

"What would your mum do then?" I ask.

"Oh," Jamie's eyes light up, "she would yell at him and he would just laugh and give her a kiss."

"He must have been pretty patient with your mum," I reply.

"Actually that's what mama used to say," Chloe agrees with me, "she always said dad put up with a lot of her bullshit."

"Chloe don't swear!" Nick scolds her.

She pokes her tongue out at him and he scoffs at her.

"Okay," I interrupt before this gets out of hand, "let's go and get ready hey?  I'll go up and see how your mum's getting on."

Everyone gets up and starts walking off to their rooms.

"And no fighting either!" I call out.

Good on you Harold.

You sound just like a parent.

I walk upstairs to my bedroom and stop.

Our bed is covered with clothing, some of it on the floor and there's a trail into my walk-in wardrobe.

I can hear noises coming from it and a lot annoyed huffing before a top and a pair of jeans are flung out.

Then more noises and a groan before a dress comes shooting out.

This isn't good.

"Uh love, what are you doing?" I call out to Beth.

"Trying to find something to wear for tonight," she calls back.

And not in a good way.

"Have you tried on virtually everything you own?" I survey the bed that has seemingly now become our wardrobe.

"No, not everything," she suddenly stomps out and stands in front of me with her hands on her hips.

In her underwear.

Just her underwear.

Focus Harold, focus.

She's having a crisis here.

"Are you sure?" I ask, thinking there can't be much more left for her to try on, "most of it seems to have made its way out here..."

And you were doing so well Harold.

"Harry," she whirls around, eyes blazing, "don't make fun of me!  I have nothing to wear and everything looks horrible on me and I'm just so fat today and...and ugly and horrible and my arse has doubled in size since I got here, and my boobs are at my belly button and..." she trails off, frustration written all over her face.