THE door to Desmond's office was slightly ajar, but instead of peer inside, Harry rapped loudly on the jamb.
"Come in," Desmond's voice wafted through the crevice. His chair made a soft screeching sound as he rolled slightly away from his desk and sat back to casually accept whomever bid entry.
Harry stepped inside and took stance behind one of the guest chairs, leaning his weight against it for support.
"I need a favor." He began.
"Okay," Desmond looked quizzically amused.
"So, you know how on some TV shows, the parents tell their kids that they can have one 'no-questions-asked freebie?" Harry began.
"Sort of like a Get Out of Jail Free Card?" Desmond played along.
"Right," Harry stood up straight. "I was wondering if I could get one of those."
"So if I'm hearing you correctly, you want me to allow you to do something without knowing how or why?" Desmond frowned.
"No, nothing like that. I just want you to let me do something that you normally wouldn't let me do." Harry grinned manipulatively.
"Just cut to the chase, Harry. What do you want?" Desmond sighed.
"I want to go to Bree's," Harry stated in one breath.
"And…?" Desmond pressed for more detail.
"And I didn't go to school today." Harry came clean.
Desmond sat back and shook his head. "Sorry, Harry. You know the rules. No school, no exceptions."
"Aarrgh! Dad, come on!" Harry exhaled in anguish. "You have no idea what I've been through…I have to see Bree. Today."
Desmond sat silent for a moment, wondering if Harry had realized he'd called him 'Dad', and if so, was it all a part of Harry's plan to get what he wanted?
Desmond took a brief moment to look over the young man standing before him. Harry looked tired, but there was a rare fire burning in his eyes, a motivating catalyst, that Desmond had rarely seen. Harry was excited about something.
"Bree, huh?" Desmond treaded. "You two work out your differences?"
"We're trying to," Harry leaned forward, on edge for Desmond's final answer.
"I want to get something straight with you," Desmond put on his best fatherly voice, "I'm only letting you go because—"
"Yes!" Harry interrupted in celebratory exuberance.
"Hold on a minute, Harry," Desmond held up his hand. "I want to tell you why I'm going to let you break the rules this one time." He paused for effect. "First of all, because you asked. Second, because you've been working very hard lately, and I think you should be rewarded. And lastly, because I think Bree is a nice girl." And maybe a little bit because you called me 'Dad'.
* * *
Connie pulled to a stop in the Hanson driveway and put her car in park. Bree hesitated a moment before she stepped out of the low-riding vehicle, her hand resting against the window.
"Um, Connie…" she started.
Connie held up her hand to silence Bree. "Don't worry. I'm just coming inside to get my stuff and then I'll be on my way."
Bree laughed. "How did you know what I was going to say?"
"Because you've had Harry-eyes all afternoon. Am I wrong in assuming that he's on his way over here?"
"Nope. You're not wrong," Bree smiled before being overtaken by nervousness.
Harry would be here. Soon. How should I act? What will I say? Will we forget about everything in the past? Do we need to talk about this? What if we get into another argument?
As Connie flitted around the house picking up her possessions that had accumulated there, Bree paced in the small kitchen, unsure of how to proceed with Harry.
"Okay, I'm gonna take off," Connie stated as she jaunted down the stairs with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good." Bree turned and faced Connie. Then she decided to level with her. "Actually, I'm kind of nervous."
"I figured," Connie agreed, "but don't be. You've worked some kind of magic on Harry Styles. I've never seen him so…human."
Bree scoffed, but Connie shook her head to silence her.
"No, I'm serious," Connie continued. "If you're nervous because you think somehow that you're unworthy, don't be. If anyone is unworthy, it's Harry."
Bree thanked her friend for her kind words and said a quick goodbye, never confirming that Connie had diagnosed her fear with great accuracy. Please, God, don't let Harry come to the conclusion that I'm not worth all this effort.
Harry arrived almost immediately after Connie pulled away, as if he'd been hiding in the distance, timing his entrance to perfection.
"Hey," he smirked when Bree answered the door.
And just like that, he was back. After all of the agony, tears, harsh words and distant glares, Harry Styles walked back into Bree's house and the atmosphere welcomed him, like a missing piece of furniture that had been returned after a brief absence.
"Hey," Bree said in return.
Bree moved slightly, not knowing what room of the house they should settle in. She started for the kitchen, but then turned toward the couch – a motion that resulted in nothing but a mere circle, causing Harry to nearly bump into her when she stopped short.
They recognized each other's nervousness for what it was and laughed slightly. It was enough to ease the tension between them.
"Can I get you a drink or something?" Bree asked as her eyes darted toward the kitchen. It was clean enough.
"What do you have?" Harry asked.
"Juice, milk, water, lemonade…" Bree trailed off.
"Lemonade sounds good," Harry said as he followed Bree into the kitchen.
It seemed to take a legion of minutes for Bree to remove a glass from the overhead cabinet, fill it with ice and then lemonade.
When Bree went to hand off the glass, Harry startled her. He was standing right behind her, barely inches of space between them.
"Bree." He said her name softly, but spoke no other words. Instead, with one hand he took the glass and set it on the counter. His other hand reached for Bree's and pulled her into his embrace.
There was no pretense of unawareness for what this moment would entail. Bree closed her eyes and felt, rather than saw, Harry lean in. The scent of him: his hair, his clothes, his skin – it awakened dormant fantasies and painted them with a brushstroke of reality. This was really happening. Harry was really here.
Bree lifted her face to Harry's and shivered the moment his lips were upon hers. Trembling fingers upon trembling hands glided their way up Harry's arms until they lovingly locked around his neck.
Harry's hands slowly slid around Bree's waist. It was a slow and deliberate move, not with wanton abandon. Gradually, he pulled away from the kiss with a sigh and rested his forehead against Bree's.
"Bree, I really am sorry," he whispered sincerely.
Bree nodded. She recognized his remorse. It emanated from his countenance so thickly that she didn't even need to hear the words to know that he meant them.
"I'm sorry, too." Bree wanted to make sure Harry knew she accepted her share of the blame in their breakup.
Harry responded by kissing her again, this time with the passion and yearning of one separated from his object of desire for far too long. Bree kissed him back with the same fervor and just when the longing was almost palpable, Bree pulled back.
"Do you want to go somewhere?" Harry asked. Bedroom, the couch, empty garage, perhaps…
"Sure," Bree misunderstood. "I have my dad's car. Let me just change my shirt."
Bree headed up the stairs, leaving Harry down below, wondering what had just transpired.
Upstairs, Bree had barely pulled off her shirt and replaced it with a new one when she heard Harry's footsteps on the stairs. In the blink of an eye, he was standing before her.
He looked around like he was discovering new territory.
"It feels like forever since I've been here," he said.
"It has been awhile," Bree said. She immediately regretted her words. Like they needed another reminder about their breakup.
"Yeah," Harry simply said before he sat down on the edge of Bree's bed. "Bree, I don't really want to go anywhere." His expression denoted that he expected her to disagree with him.
"Oh, okay." Bree took a seat on the opposite side of the bed, the distance deliberate. While her body wanted nothing more than to be wrapped around Harry's, her mind knew that there were things that had to happen first; words that had to be exchanged. And though her mind and body were internally waging war, it was a battle her mind was winning.
"Wanna play a game?" Bree asked Harry shyly.
"A game?" Harry scowled at the idea. "What kind of game?" It was obvious that visions of Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit danced around in his head.
"Twenty questions," Bree announced.
"Isn't that a guessing game?" Harry asked skeptically.
"Well, it can be. But in this version, I'll ask you twenty questions and you have to answer them truthfully."
"I don't want to answer twenty questions about myself."
"Well what if we switch off? We'll each answer ten questions."
Harry didn't look excited about the idea, so his compromise was obvious. "Okay. If I only have to answer ten."
"Why? You have something to hide?" Bree quirked an eyebrow at him.
Harry's silent expression communicated perfectly what he was thinking without him having to say it. It was a question that was answered incorrectly that had caused their relationship to meet its demise. And Bree wanted to go there again?
"Okay, I'll go first," Bree turned and sat cross-legged on her bed. "Were you nervous to come over here today?"
"No," Harry answered. He sat staring at Bree expectantly for a moment. "Was that the question?"
"Yeah," Bree nodded.
"Oh." Harry visibly relaxed.
"Okay, now it's your turn," Bree told him.
"Were you nervous?" Harry rattled the question off without a thought.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you, you can't ask me the same question that I ask you."
At first Harry seemed perturbed by the rule. However, the moment the light bulb went on, and he realized that he could ask Bree a question that she couldn't ask him in return, he seemed to engage himself in the game.
"Did you go out with Max Anderson while we were broken up?" Harry asked.
"No," Bree shook her head adamantly. "Did you go out with anyone?"
"That's the same question."
"No it isn't. I didn't ask you if you went out with Max Anderson."
Harry sighed. "No. I didn't go out with anyone. I've been grounded the entire time."
"Why?"
"It's my turn to ask the question," Harry smiled. But then his expression took on a tone of seriousness. "Did you tell anyone…how we met?"
Bree looked at him in confusion. "We met at school. No one even asks me how we met."
"No, I mean…like…when you came over my house and we…the tutoring. Did you tell anyone about that?"
"No. Does anyone else know?"
"I didn't tell anybody. I just thought, you know, that maybe you said something because you were pissed."
"Harry, I don't consider the fact that you need tutoring to be something dishonorable about you. Lots of people get tutored in various subjects."
"You know what I mean, Bree."
Yes, she did know what he meant. Had she told anyone that he couldn't read?
"Did you read my letter?"
"Of course."
"Then what would I have to tell anybody?"
Harry looked embarrassed by Bree's acknowledgement; not in her words, but in the pride he felt because of them.
"I loved your letter," he said quietly.
"I loved your dedication," Bree said in return. "I still can't believe you did that."
"You wouldn't talk to me. It was the only thing I could think of to get you to hear me out."
Bree shook her head. "No, what I meant was I can't believe that you even wanted to…you were so mad when you left my house that day."
"Yeah, but more at myself than you. I should have just told you the truth."
"Why didn't you?"
Harry stretched his long legs lengthwise on Bree's bed, just stopping short of putting his sneakers on the bedspread. He averted his gaze and exhaled deeply before giving Bree the answer that had been plaguing her almost as long as her relationship with Harry had lasted.
"I didn't want you to think I would do that to you." Harry repeated what he'd previously said. "Bree, Jocelyn and I were never serious, she was never my girlfriend. She knew I didn't want that, but she said she didn't care. I knew how she really felt, even though she acted like she wanted something casual. I shouldn't have done it, but I did. When she came back again, I blew her off but she just kept hanging around. None of the other girls I hung out with went to Lockridge, so she never saw me with anyone. I think she thought I'd change my mind so she kept asking."
"How come you stayed friends with her? Why didn't you just…ignore her until she went away?" Bree forgot the process of the game and asked another question.
"Jocelyn was always just there. As long as she left me alone, I didn't really pay any attention to her. She's a friend of Connie, who's always with Tom…she just was around. There weren't any feelings there, so I didn't feel the need to avoid her. And she was cool, most of the time. She didn't really start giving me a hard time until you showed up." Harry laughed to lighten the mood.
"It makes me really uncomfortable knowing she's…seen you…done those things with you." Bree picked at a loose piece of rubber on the sole of her shoe.
"I can't change the past, Bree."
"I know. And I'm not mad at you…anymore."
A comfortable silence settled between the pair and Bree wondered if she should call an end to the game, since Harry wasn't participating; he was simply allowing her to ask all of the questions. But he shocked her by initiating a question and ending the silence.
"Have you ever lied to me?"
Bree pondered the question for a moment. She was about to lie in her response, and she grimaced at how easy it was to be dishonest with Harry. Her face gave her away, as did her hesitation.
"When?" Harry pressed on; Bree's failure to answer the question was as good as an affirmative reply.
Bree sighed. She knew as soon as she disclosed this truth, it would steer the conversation in a direction she was hoping to avoid.
With her hands running anxiously through her hair, Bree stalled to respond as she carefully considered her answer. It didn't take long for her to realize that there really was only one way to explain her falsehood, and that was directly.
"I lied about the birth control," Bree said without looking up. She didn't want to watch him call her a hypocrite.
"What about it? You don't want to take the pill?" Harry asked.
"Actually, I am taking it and I have been for quite a while. Since before I even came here," Bree came clean.
"So you're not a virgin?" The tone of Harry's voice changed. It wasn't quite anger; there was a hint of … betrayal?
"I am a virgin," Bree assured him. "There are other reasons, besides sex, to take birth control pills."
"Like what?" This was news to Harry.
Bree looked up at him with a smirk on her face. "Girlie reasons." When that didn't seem to decode the message sufficiently for Harry, she continued, "like for menstrual cramps and stuff."
"Oh." Harry knew what menstrual meant, so that was enough of that. But now that he knew that he wasn't the only one who'd been dishonest, he felt justified in asking Bree why she'd mislead him, just as she had asked him.
"What's the big deal?" Harry wondered. "Why didn't you just tell me you were already on the pill?"
"Because, I figured if you thought I had to wait a month before they were effective, then…that was one more month I'd have … we'd have… to get to know each other." Bree looked over at him to gauge his reaction. "It was the only way I could think of to get you to stop pressuring me…"
"I never pressured you."
Bree restrained herself from laughing, sure that it would be like throwing acid on the increasingly tense moment. "Harry, you did," she stated quietly.
Harry scooted closer to Bree and put his hand on her knee. When his eyes held hers, Bree readied herself for another apology, because that's what it looked liked Harry was going to give her. Instead, he asked another question.
"Does this have anything to do with Jocelyn?" he asked.
"I'll be honest, the fact that you've done it before and I haven't, makes me a little nervous. Not to mention the fact that everyone says it hurts like hell the first time. But, Harry, I'm not ready. It doesn't have anything to do with anyone but me. I just want to feel more comfortable with you first. That doesn't mean that I never want to be with you like that, it just means…not now."
"You're not comfortable with me?" Harry asked.
"I'm more comfortable with you than I've ever been with any other guy," Bree smiled. Nevermind that there's never been any other guy. "I just…don't know a lot about this stuff, ya know?"
"Well…I could tutor you," Harry offered with a wicked grin.
Bree laughed out loud and moved over to Harry so that she was close enough to wrap her arms around his neck. "I'm counting on it," she whispered before kissing him.
* * *
It wasn't even evening yet and the music was already blaring from the stereo of Nate's friend, John's house.
"This party isn't even going to make it until dark at this rate," Nate commented over the bass of the music.
"Man, fuck my neighbors. If they call the cops, I'll put bombs in their mailboxes," John huffed. He was already drunk.
John had an "anything goes" philosophy when it came to parties. It was a philosophy that had garnered him nights in the slammer on numerous occasions, but with a sleazy defense attorney for an uncle, John considered himself above the law.
Nate rolled his eyes and tossed his empty beer bottle into the trashcan. He wasn't that interested in sticking around too much longer. He had a way of sniffing out when a party was going to get out of control, and this one was well on its way, well before it had even gotten started.
As he made his way through the house, past the living room, a familiar set of blonde locks caught his eye and he ducked in for a better look. Sure enough, Jocelyn was sitting on the couch, sandwiched between two men who were lavishing her with their constant attention. She was working a beer bottle between her lips, taking a sip, but also giving her audience a lasting visual.
"Joss? What are you doing here?" Nate stepped into her field of vision.
"Oh, hey, Nate! What are you doing here?" Jocelyn was obviously drunk, but not nearly as drunk as she wanted everyone to believe. Nate saw right through her charade.
"Hanging out with friends my own age. Which is exactly what you should be doing." Nate made a move towards her, but she leaned away from him.
"Don't you remember? I don't have any friends my own age. Surely your brother filled you in on that, since he tells you everything else," Jocelyn reminded him.
"Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we?" Nate said. "I have to admit, it isn't becoming of you."
Jocelyn looked irritated and the gentleman to her left decided to display his chivalry by defending her honor.
"Hey," belched out hobo number one, "leave her alone." Then, turning to Jocelyn, he said, "Don't listen to him. You're the hottest girl in here."
"She's also probably the youngest. Lockridge get out early today, huh Joss?" Nate directed his question at her.
"Lockridge?" Hobo number two decided to speak up. "You're still in high school?"
Jocelyn narrowed her eyes at Nate, an expression that he returned with an arrogant smirk.
"Thanks a lot," she said bitterly when her suitors departed for more attainable prospects.
"Trust me, I did you a favor," Nate laughed. "Besides, the cops are gonna be here in about twenty minutes, tops."
Jocelyn looked at her watch. "Damn. My bus won't be here for a whole hour," she muttered to herself.
"C'mon. I'll give you a lift home," Nate offered as he started walking out of the living room. He turned around to see Jocelyn still seated, her arms crossed over her chest in defiance.
"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "But an intoxicated minor fine might cut into your manicure fund," Nate nodded at her hot pink nails.
As Nate left via the front door, Jocelyn ran to catch up to him.
"I live off Canis," she said as she opened his passenger door and slid inside. Once seated, Jocelyn dropped her quarrel and ran her hands reverently over the dashboard.
"Is this custom?" she asked.
"Carbon fiber," Nate grinned proudly.
"It's beautiful," Jocelyn nodded.
She settled back into the seat and listened to the roar of the engine as Nate shifted gears.
"So what's up with your friends? Tom giving you a hard time?" Nate's voice broke through the silence.
Jocelyn shook her head. "Tom isn't giving me any time. Nobody is."
"I'm just curious… What exactly did you expect everyone's reaction to be? I mean, Harry is Tom's best friend. He certainly wasn't going to think that shit was funny. And Connie…I don't know…she doesn't seem that heartless."
"So you think I'm heartless?" Jocelyn asked defensively.
"I don't know," Nate grinned as he pulled to a stop in front of Jocelyn's house. "I don't know you that well."
As Jocelyn walked into an empty house, she couldn't pretend that Nate hadn't said she wasn't heartless. Even from what he did know of her – how she'd made him laugh, helped and complimented him on his car; he still didn't say she was a nice girl. And she couldn't pretend that that didn't sting a little bit.
* * *
Harry remained in bed long after he'd awoken the next morning. His thoughts wandered to the time he'd spent with Bree the previous day, and involuntarily, a smile appeared on his face. It felt so right to have her back in his life.
At first, he'd been quite disheartened by her reiteration of the no-sex rule, but then they'd stopped talking and started well…being physical. And Harry didn't care what Bree said, she was hornier than he was, so he knew it was just a matter of time before she would be telling him that she was ready. Even still, that was the way they'd left it: They could fool around all they wanted, and even if things got pretty hot an heavy, Harry would remain under the assumption that they wouldn't go all the way unless Bree told him otherwise.
When the clock on Harry's bedside table read 10:00 a.m. his phone began to ring to the tune of Jonny Lang's 'Breakin' Me'. It was Bree. She'd changed his ring tone. He laughed as he picked it up.
"You sound happy," Bree remarked when she heard Harry's laughter.
"So far, it's not a shitty day," Harry told her.
"Hmm…so far," Bree said covertly.
Something about the tone of her voice made Harry sit up suddenly in his bed. "What's up? What's going on?"
"So…you know how you said you wanted to hang out today?" Bree began.
"Yeah?"
"Well, my dad just got back into town and when I ran it by him…you know, because I haven't seen him in a few days…well…he-kind-of-said-I-can't-hang-out-with-you-until-he-has-a-talk-with-us-first." Bree spat out.
"He wants to talk to us?"
"Yes."
"Together?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"At noon. Can you come for lunch?"
Harry plopped back down on his pillow. Shitty day commence: now.