Rain | Harry Styles

0.1

'he'll give you the goosebumps, but he's never lead me wrong.'

(daylight - 5 seconds of summer)

-

"Hurry up, will you, Anastasia? Your lobster is getting cold!"

"Miss Levin?" a hesitant knock sounded from from the other side of the plywood door, "I'm sorry, but - your mother really would like you to come to dinner - please?"

"Just a second, Celia," I called, reluctantly standing up from my window seat, hitting 'send' on a text in response to Sadie, confirming that I would in fact meet her later tonight. I swung open my bedroom door, facing my 'maid' Celia. She was far more of a mother to me than my actual mother was, though she worked as a member of staff within the house - my mother specifically hiring her to 'guide me' through my young adult life - despite working for us for almost a year - she'd yet to drop the 'Miss Levin' and call me by my actual name.

"Miss Levin, your mother is surely throwing a fit by now," she sighed, her heavy British accent making me giggle, as she adjusted her god awful uniform that Mother insisted they all wear.

"It's Ana, Celia," I corrected her, sending her a wink, "And what did I tell you? Us Americans prefer 'losing her shit'." I walked past her, sending her a sweet smile as she forced herself to gasp at my foul language, though I knew she didn't really mind - it was simply protocol.

"I'm here," I announced, sending a nod towards my father as I took my seat at the end of the table. He shot me a smile, turning his attention back to his plate. I looked over to my mother, ignoring her glare as I now focused on my own plate. Lobster and potato salad. Another day of this 'pescatarian diet' I suppose.

"You're late, Anastasia," my mother scolded, as another member of staff rushed forward to fill my champagne glass, "Say hello to our guests."

I looked over to the other side of the table, yet to meet whichever snobs we'd be sharing dinner with this evening, "I'm Ana," I smiled politely, though I don't receive one in return.

They introduce themselves as Carol and William Peterson, and all I do is nod in response. I push my lobster around my plate with my fork, wrinkling my nose. I hate fish. My mother knows this, yet - she finds great pleasure in requesting it from the chef. It must've been weeks since I'd had a good burger, fuck. I could feel my mouth water at the thought of a juicy burger, my senses tingling.

"Anastasia," my mother said sharply, causing me to snap out of my fantasy, "Answer when you're spoken to, please."

"I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?" I cleared my throat, smoothing down my white laced dress.

"I asked what your plans were for the future," Carol spoke, a tone of annoyance prominent.

"O-Oh - my future," I stammered, unsure of how to answer such a demanding question, "I haven't really planned that yet," I said honestly, cutting a potato with the side of my fork and putting the piece in my mouth.

I watched a disapproving look grow on the face of Mrs Peterson, her disgust with my choice of words quite evident.

"Ana will be attending Harvard University," my dad spoke up from the other end of the table, shooting me a reassuring smile.

No, I fucking won't.

"I'd like to major in History," I lied, my mother shooting me a look, which I knew was directed in a way to tell me to sit up straight. I did so, simply to avoid any further displeasure on her behalf.

Truth is, I had no clue what I'd like to do - I wanted nothing from this family, that was for sure. My parents were very formal and slightly patronizing when it came to business - both of them desperate for me to pursue a career and maintain their wealth. As much as I was grateful for everything I had - I didn't want it for myself.