About (Harry Styles)

30.

"Uh .... " is all I can manage at the moment. He had to come at the most opportunistic time, didn't he. His timing is impeccable. Like always.

"Oh, right. I forgot you're not good at that," Harry Styles says, the memory of our first meeting flashing before me for a brief second.

"I'm Harry," the British lad extends an arm out to my mother's husband who takes it.

"I'm Elaine's stepfather," he introduces himself somewhat protectively. The word still makes me cringe. Harry Styles doesn't seem to be fazed at his stern 'father-like' attitude. Instead he flashes a wide grin, somehow easing my thoughts for a slight moment. "This is my wife, Sandra, Elaine's mother."

My mother rises from her seat, her face beaming with a smile anyone from a mile away can see. Even though she's not a fan of the band, she's definitely a fan of celebrity gossip. And who so happens to be almost in the middle of every article...Of course, it's Harry Styles. 

"You're here with Elaine?" She asks, her tone completely star stricken yet breezy at the same time. Probably under the impression that Harry Styles and I are .. together, together. Before she jumps to any conclusions, I speak up.

"It's not what you think," I chime in, descending myself between my mother and Harry Styles. "We know each other, but it's not like that. We're just friends."

Are we really friends though? I think to myself.

"What?" She asks innocently. "I wasn't thinking anything."

"I know you mother and I know what goes on in that head of yours," I assert but she brushes me off, literally. She drives me to the side, tucking her arm around one of mine, lurching me to her hip.

"Oh hush. Would it be alright if we join you two, Harry?" My mother asks, her hand reaches for Harry Styles'arm, her long manicured nails circling around his forearm. I'm suddenly filled with embarrassment. 

With a smile, he agrees. It's not as though he really had a choice because my persistent mother is already pulling him down to sit.

My mother's husband excuses himself to get more drinks. I reluctantly fall back in my seat, the regret of not leaving earlier nipping at my skin. My mother suddenly turns to me, making me flinch. 

"How could you not tell us that you had a friend here? I was feeling like such an awful mother, leaving you all alone on this trip," she bats her eyelashes. 

"I wanted to be alone," I remind her.

"Well, I'm just glad you have someone to keep you company," she turns to Harry Styles who is looking at me. I widen my eyes at him, trying to mentally tell him that we should've left when I said. "So how did this happen? How did you two meet?"

"We actually met in London," he answers. 

"That long ago! Oh my. Excuse us for a moment, Harry, will you, dear?" She says, pulling me up with her. Even though I want to know why she's hastily lugging me outside the room, I already have an idea why.

Once we're a few paces away, I set a hand on my mother's grip on my wrist, her tread coming to a halt at the contact. She doesn't let go but I take a sharp glance at it, signaling her to free my arm.

"What's going on? Where are you taking me?" I ask, slightly annoyed at her rash stunt. Harry Styles must be thinking that we're some dysfunctional family planning a murder or something.

"How come you never told me about him?" She asks with concern. 

"About who?"

"Harry Styles," she says his name with so much air and wallop. As if he's some Greek god or something. "He's a celebrity, isn't he? I remember seeing his face on E! multiple times. You can't forget that kind of face."