Issues // H.S. // A.U.

Chapter Thirty-Two

"Dani..."

"Harry..." I say back, "It's okay, baby, I won't stay long, and I'll call you on my way home, I promise."

"Okay, I love you." He concedes, but I know he isn't happy with it.

"I love you, too." I tell him.

When I get to the table, I'm surprised to see the man himself waiting patiently for me. He didn't even have a drink in front of him, just the two waters that were placed for us.

"So is my son on his way?" He asked.

I'm not surprised that he knew that I had called Harry. "No, I told him that I could handle this."

I waited for him to say something, but he just stared me down. I wasn't going to give in to whatever game he was playing, so I sat in silence until he decided to tell me why we were here. It was a long minute before he cleared his throat, and said, "I've talked to the dean."

"Yes?" I took a long sip of water looking unimpressed.

"I have been friends with him for a long time, and I wanted to talk to him about Harry's progress in his new program."

My jaw clenches, "Okay."

"He told me that even though he was a little behind when he started, that he has almost completely caught up and is now in the top percentile in the program."

"Yes, I know." I wasn't going to make whatever this was easy for him.

We stare each other down for a few moments, and I wait for him to speak again. He sighs, finally, and continues, "He gave me a few of his papers to read. The ones that have been entered into contests. I didn't realize that he had earned a few scholarships himself."

"He probably would've told you if he would've thought you cared."

Mr. Styles pursed his lips, "You're quite protective of him, aren't you?"

"He's the love of my life, so yes." I tell him matter-of-factly, "That's what you do when you love someone."

"I know you might think the worst of me, but I've always wanted the best for my son." I tilt my head in response, not believing him. He presses on, "It might be hard to picture this, but there was a time that Harry showed enthusiasm in my work. He wanted to follow in my footsteps. When he told me he was switching his major into something that he had never expressed interest in, I figured it was more an act of rebellion."

"You didn't possibly think that maybe he felt obligated or pushed into that direction by you? That his enthusiasm was really just an attempt to make you proud of him?" He blinks at me, as if he truly never thought of it that way. "Maybe, just maybe, he never felt comfortable enough to talk to you, or anyone really, about his writing. Art can be incredibly personal, you know."

He takes this in silently, brows furrowing. Finally, he says, "Maybe you're right." It's my turn to be blink at him, feeling shocked that he admitted something like that. "It's hard to know what your kid wants when they don't speak with you. I didn't want him to throw away his future - a future I thought he wanted - just because he didn't like me. I wanted him to be set for life, and I didn't want him to regret chasing after some pipe dream of writing."

I sigh, "Mr. Styles, that's all nice and everything, but you don't get it. Harry doesn't necessarily want to be an author. He could if he wanted to - he's that good - but what he wants to do is work at a publishing house. He wants to help produce the next great novel or book series. He's got incredibly good grammar, and could be a copy editor. He's also got a little bit of business background, and could start his own publishing company or climb the ranks of an existing one. There is so much he could do, and he'll do any of them exceptionally. Regardless of what I think of you, Mr. Styles, I think you raised an amazing, talented, and hardworking son."