Rain | Harry Styles

2.5

"What are you two whispering about?" Harry whispered to the both of us as drinks were poured.

"Tasha hooked up with JJ!" I whisper shouted, and Harry gasped.

"Tasha, you filthy little-"

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman," my father stood up from the opposing end of the table, my mother beside him flashing what must've been her fakest smile of the night.

"Here we go," I couldn't help but mutter, earning a snigger from Tasha and a nudge from Harry as my father continued with his speech.

"My wife and I are eternally grateful for your attendance tonight," he spoke, and I glanced at Harry, who was likely to be thinking the same thing I was. How formal can this fucker be?

"Obviously this annual party wouldn't go ahead without you, and - I'm sure everybody is starved so; let's eat, eh?" my dad raised his glass before the two of them took a seat, and dinner began to be carried from the kitchen.

Celia leant over to us, "Tree all done then, pet?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, looks good - thanks to me."

"Both of us," I corrected, a smile on my face as he sent me a wink.

"Oh, I love you two," Celia sighed contently, "you're like my two little children."

"Mum, that'd mean we-"

"We love you too, Celia," I cut Harry off quickly with a kick to his shin, our plates placed in front of us.

Half the things on the plate I couldn't possibly name, and I doubted Tasha and Harry could either - but they both still attempted to pick at the unknown seafood and weird sauce beside it.

"This is shit," Harry whispered huskily into my ear, drumming his fingertips on my inner thigh, "I want to leave."

"Shush," I gently moved his hand from my thigh, shooting him a warning look, "Twenty more minutes, tops. Then we'll go."

"Excuse me," Tasha nudged my shoulder, "you're pretty hypocritical."

"Shut up," I grinned, taking a sip of my drink.

"Harry, is it?" the table fell silent as my father spoke, causing my eyes to widen. Shit.

I'd basically promised Harry my parents wouldn't say a word to him - I'd been certain they wouldn't. My parents never paid any mind to my friends; they couldn't care less. But now my father's eyes were on Harry, as well as the rest of the table.

I bit my lip, opening my mouth to speak before Harry closed his palm gently over my knee, silencing me.

Harry cleared his throat, "Yes, sir - that's me."

"Hm," my father raised an eyebrow, a judgemental look on his face as he eyed Harry, "You know Anastasia from school, I presume?"

"Yes, sir," Harry repeated, rubbing gentle circles on my knee, in attempts to comfort me, though it should've been vice-versa.

"You're good friends with my daughter, then?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well let's hope you know your boundaries then, hm?" my dad spoke sternly, and Harry's eyes narrowed, Tasha taking a sharp intake.

The table fell silent once more, before suddenly breaking into roars of laughter, my father alongside them. I watched Harry's jaw clench, before he let out a half-hearted laugh. I put my hand over his on my knee, squeezing his fingertips lightly, watching his face soften in the slightest.