𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐑! | harry styles

𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈

"Sir, I-"

Johnny held up his hand to silence Harry. "My dad passed away when I was seven years old and my mom remarried when I was eleven. Now, the guy was a real king when everything was going his way, but the minute he got mad…his mouth and his fists would start a'flyin'."

"Sir, I would never hit Bree. Ever." Harry was adamant.

"But you don't think twice about calling her a bitch or telling her to fuck off, right?"

Harry was floored by Johnny's choice of words and sat staring at him with his mouth agape. "I, uh, well, I…"

"Exactly. I heard the way you spoke to my daughter. You didn't even bother to hide it. You knew I was standing right there."

"I was talking about the situation, Sir. Bree knows how I feel about her."

"And what, exactly, are your feelings for Bree, huh, Harry?"

"I love her," Harry answered without hesitation.

"You love her, eh?" Johnny rolled his eyes and rubbed his chin. "And that's what love looks like to you? Yelling and swearing?"

"No," Harry looked down at the table. "I made a mistake. Haven't you ever made a mistake?" His expression implored Johnny to be more understanding.

Johnny nodded. "Yep." He offered no further information as his eyes bore into Harry's soul.

"Bree forgave me, Sir."

"Well Bree would forgive you, because she's under the impression that you're worth forgiving!" Johnny raised his voice to a near yell. "But I'm not sold on you, yet. You come in here with your 'yes sir, no sir' crap and expect me to forget the things you said to my daughter. Well it's not going to happen."

Harry cringed when he heard Johnny's words. He and Bree had come so far, and now this? Her father was going to put a kibosh on their relationship?

"Sir…Mr. Hanson…please…," Harry stopped abruptly when he realized what he sounded like. Am I fuckin' begging?

Damn straight.

But before Harry could say anymore, Johnny let out a low sound that sounded like a chuckle, but when Harry looked at him, there was no sign of humor on his face.

"This is the deal, Harry. You see Bree on my terms."

"Yes, Sir," Harry immediately agreed, even though he didn't yet know what the terms were.

"You've got six months. In that time you'd better not swear at her, yell at her, make her cry, hell, if you so much as fart in front of her, your ass is history. Do I make myself clear? "

"Yes, Sir." Harry felt like the world's biggest idiot and internally his blood was simmering at the way Johnny was treating him.

And then Bree walked into the kitchen and just her mere presence reminded Harry why he had been ready to get down on his knees and beseech her father for mercy.

Bree looked down at her watch before turning to her father. "You said twelve-thirty. It's twelve-thirty." She noticed the pensive looks between Harry and Johnny. "What's going on?"

"Harry and I were just coming to a gentlemanly agreement, right, Harry?" Johnny's expression suggested that the conversation that had just transpired was not to be spoken of to Bree.

"Agreement?" Bree asked.

"Curfews on school nights and weekends…that kinda stuff," Harry shot Johnny a sideways glance and Johnny nodded.