"Do you like me?" I ask, the abrupt question causing him to freeze in place.
"Would it be okay if I did?" He answers ... Not to my surprise, with another question.
His reply still captivates me til this very moment. The incertitude on his face. The ambiguity of his motives. It all allures me in which a way I don't completely understand.
Harry Styles worries about me?
Harry Styles nervous about me?
Harry Styles ... likes ... me?
How could he even like me? What does he even like about me?
We haven't even known each other for that long. Only instances here and there, not long enough for such romantic feelings to develop.
How long does it take for someone to like someone?
Is there even an exact answer?
I mustn't let this go on.
I mustn't let him fill my thoughts.
I mustn't.
...
Rushing down the stairs, my feet almost trip over themselves as I reach the bottom. I call for my mother, my voice echoing through the house as I search for the sight of the blonde-haired woman.
I'm caught off guard when the high spirited doctor walks in, asking me why I'm looking for my mother so ardently. He pushes his glasses further up his nose as he sets the daily newspaper onto the dining table.
"I'm late for work and need a ride," I answer. "Have you seen my mother?"
"She went to the store, but I can give you a ride," he offers with a smile.
...
"How's work going?" He asks once we're on the road.
Damn. I was hoping for a silent car ride. It's awkward enough as it is with him pretending to be my father. This was going to be a long ass drive.
"It's good," I reply, my eyes out the window, showing my disinterest. "I've only worked a day or two because of my ankle."
"Oh, right. Quinn worries about you, you know." The sudden mention of his son somehow strikes me as bizarre. "I told him about what happened, but he doesn't buy the squirrel story."
Quinn returned to Delaware, right after they attended church, because of work, I'm assuming. Out of urgency as usual. I never get to say goodbye to him.
"I wanted to talk to you about what happened a week ago," he starts. My mind replays the last week and can't think of anything he would want to discuss with me. "The night Quinn came back."
Oh ... that.
"I know how you feel. Quinn's mother abandoned us when he was only four years old. So I know how it feels to be left behind."
"Why did she leave?" I ask, realizing the next second that my question might have been too intrusive. "Sorry, I don't --"
"No, it's okay. I mean, it's a valid question," the lawyer says sincerely. He keeps his eyes out on the road as he drives, but I can see that he's driving down a different lane in his head. "Quinn's mother and I weren't financially stable at the time so she and I decided a divorce was the choice for us. She didn't want custody of Quinn since she didn't have the steady income to provide for him, plus she had another ... lover."
"Wow," is all I'm able to say. Mr. White and my mother have been married for almost four years now and I'm only learning of this now. I was never really enthralled by his side of the story. Or anybody's really.
Other peoples lives don't concern me nor appeal to me. The only people we really care about are those in our contact list. Those who are only a press of a button away.
It's just the idea of being in the same room with this man I barely even knew still makes me uncomfortable. And how I am supposed to call this stranger my father the next day, it's not an easy thing. Change doesn't come easy for me. And having a sudden father figure in my life after twelve years of not having one is a pretty big change.
"I know you don't see me as your dad."
I stiffen in my seat for some unknown reason. I've always known that he's aware of my feelings as him not being a father to me. But his sudden confrontation is a lot scarier than I expected.
"You never call me dad and I know it's hard for you," he sighs quietly. "I understand if you're uncomfortable with it. When you and your mother had that argument about your father ... I realized that both of you will never heal until you learn the truth."
"The truth?" I gulp.
His intentions are not clear as I speculate any sort of movement on his face.
" I want to give you the opportunity to meet your father."
...
My mind is in constant turmoil as the lawyer's offer replays in my head for the millionth time. The offer to meet my biological father.
The man who always made an effort to sing the same sleepy melody to me before I went to bed. The man who left me and my mother unexpectedly twelve years ago. The man who forbade me to date any boy til I was eighteen.
All this time, all these years, I returned to the farmer's market trying to find a way to meet him by my own means.
But now that the chance is right in my grasp, right smack dab in front of my face, why am I so hesitant to take it?
Someone approaches the front desk but their figure is all a blur. That's how it's been today. Everything, everyone that came in is just a passing blur.
I greet them with a smile, asking him what he needs. He replies that he's just going to be playing a game by himself and I nod, registering him in the system. After he pays, he leaves and I return to my deadpan state.
Before I know it, my shift is already over. The sky has turned dark, and the people have all left, the space completely empty. A few of the coworkers leave in groups and they say goodbye to me as I pass through the hallway to get to the back room.
As I'm in the break room, I call my mother to pick me up but to no avail, she doesn't answer. I get her voicemail and hang up instantly, growing annoyed of people who do not pick up their phones.
If you don't pick it up, why have even have a phone?
I scroll down pass Mr. White's contact knowing fully well that it's best not to call him. He'd prompt me for an answer, one that I don't have yet.
Quinn's away in Delaware.
I'd call Marco but he's probably already asleep. And he's the deepest sleeper I know so it'd be pointless to call him.
The only other person in my phone is .. Kai.
I have yet to delete his contact. Photos have been erased. Memories have been forced away into the small, brown drawer in the back of my head. It's been over three years since we talked, and I still haven't found the courage to delete him from my life completely.
It's so simple. To just press the delete button, and it'll be gone forever.
But I'm afraid that if I erase it, the last thing I have of his, I'll be erasing everything. As if nothing ever happened.
And I know that it's feasible that he could've changed his number.
"Elaine?"
The voice sounds from the doorway and standing between it is my boss, Marco's uncle. He looks frantic, overwrought with stress.
"Mr. Miller," I rise from my chair. "What are you still doing here?"
"I'd ask you the same question but there's no time for that." His words are rushed, and his eyes are wide with fear as he speaks. "There's a missing golf kart and I checked the system and somebody is still out there. I've looked everywhere. Can't find anybody. I think they're still outside somewhere. Can you come with me and help me find them?"
Without thinking, I nod. Adrenaline surges through my blood as I get up to follow him outside. We search the grounds in vain as we are unsuccessful at finding the missing person. My boss, who has the only flashlight available, keeps complaining about something with having trackers in the karts.
About twenty minutes in, Mr. Miller suggests that we split up, thinking that we'd find the person faster if we do.
I agree...stupidly.
This is the part where one of us gets killed. If this was a horror movie, that is.
He takes the flashlight, and I'm left to rely on my phone. Anxiety washes over me as I read the number that represents my battery life.
Perfect. Only 10 percent left.
Who the hell is this person anyway?
Why are they even out here at this time of day?
Did they fall asleep while playing golf?
I wouldn't be surprised. Even the mention of the word makes me yawn.
As I'm walking towards the end of the green, I spot the missing golf kart yards from where I am. I rush over, finding only a Nike golf bag with the clubs. The key to the kart is missing meaning that the person must be in the vicinity.
From behind me, I hear the sound of someone's phone ringing from a distance. I race towards the sound, seeing nobody in sight as my feet reaches the small lake of the country club.
I sigh in defeat.
For a brief moment, I admire the scenery before me. The full moon reflects onto the still body of water, producing an iridescent glow upon the lake.
It's peaceful. It sets my mind at ease. Just looking at it almost drowns me for a wistful moment when a voice drags me back out.
"You found me," a deep sound calls.
Turning around, my eyes set on the man I couldn't rid myself of for the past few days.
No. Fucking. Way.
Harry Styles.
His intent gaze is playful, a small grin playing on his lip as he waves me forward. I squint my eyes in a wary suspicion. He rolls his eyes as he concludes that I'm not going to move an inch from where I'm standing. I wasn't. Not until he explains himself.
The well dressed celebrity falls backwards onto the grass. He moves his hands behind his head to act like a pillow.
So he was the person we had to find. No wonder why Mr. Miller was under more stress than usual.
"Why do you sell bracelets when you have a job at the country club?" He asks nonchalantly, and I cannot believe I'm hearing this right now.
"You're kidding me, right?" I say sternly. I can tell he caught onto my tone when he sits himself up, an apologetic look on his face. "We have to go back. This isn't an 'All About Elaine' session, alright? Plus, you're making me work off payroll."
"Sorry," he raises his hands as if to surrender to me. "I'm just curious."
His phone rings again, he glances at the glowing screen for barely a moment, shuts it off and returns it back into his pocket.
"Who's calling you?" I ask, naturally.
"Nobody."
"It obviously wasn't nobody," I remark under my breath.
"Can we just stay here a little longer?" He asks, surprising me.
"Why? Are you running from the police?"
He shrugs and pouts his lips. "Something like that."
Something in me tells me that I should stay with him. I know that it's not the smartest thing to do. But for some strange reason, I don't want to leave him alone either.
"It's a hobby, I guess," I answer.
"What?"
I draw in a long breath, not understanding why I am agreeing to his request. Taking a few steps forward, I approach the space next to him. Once I'm down on the ground, I pull my knees to my chest, and keep my eyes out onto the bewitching yet haunting lake.
"You asked me why I sell bracelets," I remind him. "It's a hobby of mine."
"A hobby?"
"Yeah," I say. He doesn't look convinced.
"Are you struggling with finances?"
"No! No, it's nothing like that. Why would you think that?"
"Well, for one, you take the bus. You could be living under a bridge for all I know," he over-exaggerates with various hand motions.
"It's not that."
"Then tell me the real reason," the persistent singer presses.
"I just did," I insist, but from the look in his eyes, I know he's not budging from his assumption that I'm lying about my answer. And he has right to. "Fine. If you really want to know, it's because of my dad. Umm .. I'm trying to find him. He and I used to sell bracelets together at the farmer's market before he left. Long story short, my parents divorced and I never saw him again. It's been twelve years and not even one phone call."
"I'm sorry." The cliche reply.
"Don't be. It's not your fault." The obvious response.
"I know," he nods, copying my position as he pulls in his long legs into his chest. "But I'm not sorry for you. I'm sorry for him."
I chuckle bitterly. "He had the better end of the deal to be honest. He finally got the freedom to do whatever he wanted. Sleep with whoever he wanted. Not having to carry the burden of feeding another mouth. It's all in his favor. There's no need to be sorry for him."
"I don't think that's the mind of a father, Elaine," his sincere eyes express an unquestionable legitimacy as he answers. "He missed out on a lot of things."
I shake my head, understanding where he's coming from. But he doesn't understand what it's like to be in my place. Of being abandoned.
He has it all. He will never understand how I feel.
"Missed out?" I scoff gruffly. "On what?"
His eyes never part from mine as his green irises shift back and forth, studying me, realizing the bitterness that has dug deep itself in me.
Slowly and softly, almost in a delicate whisper, he answers, "On watching his own daughter grow up to be a brave, brilliant, and beautiful woman."
a/n:
can I have a Harry please?
No, okay, cool.
Early update though! I've just cooked up some inspiration and this came out. Gotta work on my project now. ugh. Semester's almost over! So more writing! Yay!