Possibility

“So my little vogel, are you accompanying me to dinner tonight?” Thatcher asked throwing his head back in the chair.

Harlow furrowed her brow, looking up from her drawing pad and at Thatcher.

“Quit fucking moving, you're ruining my rendering.” she muttered looking back at her picture.

Thatcher let out a hearty laugh, “I love it when you get all feisty.” She rolled her eyes and went back to shading. She wasn't inclined want to go to dinner with Thatcher and his family. Part of his family from the Netherlands was visiting and Thatcher all but insisted that she go to dinner with him. She had only known the boy for a month and a half and felt terribly awkward about meeting his estranged relatives already. On top of this John, who was the boyfriend of Thatcher's sister Casey, was going to this dinner as well. And ever since their first meeting Harlow had tried her hardest to avoid John O'Callaghan.

“I don't know if I should go.” she said quietly as she put the finishing touches on her rendering.

Thatcher's eye bugged out, “What?” he nearly yelled, “You've been leading me on this whole time. Making me sit here for three hours in the world's most uncomfortable chair to tell me that you don't think you're going to go? Do you know what you're subjecting me to? It's going to be a whole night of 'flikker jongen' all fucking night. Do you know what that means? Of course you don't, it means faggot boy. This is me getting another set of Christmas cards addressed to faggot boy, do you know how much that damages the soul. It kills it, and don't even let me go into what they do on my birthday. One year–”

“Alright,Alright” Harlow groaned rubbing her face, “I'll go with you.”

“Fantastic, show up at my house at about 6:30 and dress nicely because my mom wants to impress them with all of our 'fancy, rich, American' ways. So see you in two and a half hours Harlow. Oh and by the way there's charcoal on your face.” He said smiling as he almost literally pranced out of her room. She waited until she heard the sound of Thatcher's engine starting.

Slowly she got off of her bed and went to her closet, leafing through her closet debating on what would fit Thatcher's mother's idea of nicely dressed. After nearly two hours of internal debate she settled upon a pink summer dress lying about the closet. Trying to make up for lost time, she quickly took a shower and left her hair in the waves that had been caused by the shower. Quickly getting dressed and applying a minimal amount of make up, she ran down stairs in search of her keys.

“What are you all dressed up for?” she heard Garrett ask.

“I'm going to dinner with Thatcher and his family,” she sad rummaging through a drawer, “have you seen my keys?”

“No, have you checked your room?” Garrett said helping her look through the drawers

She nodded, “yeah they're not in there I have no idea where they went.”

“Hey,” Harlow whipped around to see John O'Callaghan watching her desperate attempt to locate her keys, “how about I just take you Harlow, I mean I'm headed over to Casey's right now It'd just be a waste of gas if we both drove over there anyways.”

She raised her eyebrows. She had lived in Tempe and John had never been nice to her the entire time her, he had never even called her by the correct name now that she thought about it. She glanced over at Garrett who looked equally as shocked as her, but soon shrugged it off, walking back into the living room.

“Um thanks John,” she said playing with the hem of her dress, “Gary, will you leave a key under the mat for me?”

She heard Garrett's grunt of approval and, ever so cautiously, she followed John into his car. She was not comfortable with him being nice to her. She had heard numerous stories about John, and from what she could surmise unless you were his family member, friend, significant other, or fan, John was only nice when he wanted something. Seeing as she was none of these things to John, he clearly wanted something from her. Only Harlow couldn't think of what John could possibly want from her.

“You know, you look really nice tonight” he said smiling at her.

She frowned, averting her eyes to her legs. She mumbled a thanks in response, smoothing her dress out on her legs.

John laughed heartily, causing Harlow to glance at him in confusion, “what do you not get compliments very often? Because I hardly believe that..”

“No,” Harlow said glancing up at him again, meeting his gaze, “It's just you're being nice.”

“Is it a crime to be nice?”

She sighed, “well no, no it's not. It's just–” she paused unsure how to tactfully explain how John had acted as anything but a kind person towards her.

“Oh, it's alright,” he said grinning at her, “I'm only playing with you.”

The remainder of the drive, which was a grand total of three minutes, was spent in complete silence other than the low murmur of the radio. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the De Vries house pull into view. As soon as John cut the engine she hopped out of the car moving quickly towards the door.

“Harlow, you're here!” Thatcher said pulling her into the house, “now all we have to do is wait for John, who is right there...” the tone of his voice changed from cheerful to slightly confused. He looked confused as he looked between her and John.

“He drove me here,” Harlow said quickly.

“Really?” Thatcher said in disbelief.

John scoffed, “you guys act like I'm never nice or something.”

“You're not.” Thatcher pointed out blatantly.

John didn't respond though, instead his lips were attached to those of Casey. Casey de Vries was essentially the female version of John O'Callaghan. She was very very pretty, and very very mean. If anything she made John seem like the better half, as she was constantly making snide remarks about anyone and everyone.

“Oh,” Casey said once she and John had broken apart, “the virgin Mary is here.”

Harlow frowned, she wasn't terribly fond of Casey, and Casey clearly did not like her in any way, shape, or form.

“Casey baby, be nice.” John murmured.

Casey rolled her eyes, muttering something about meeting the family, and Thatcher and Harlow trailed behind them slowly.

“I think John's up to something,” Thatcher whispered as they approached the living room, “I wasn't joking when I said he's only nice when he wants something.”

She nodded. His mother was talking quickly, introducing her and John to Thatcher and Casey's aunt uncle and several cousins. They all seemed to be rather nice, though one of Thatcher's male cousins apparently had said something dirty to her in dutch, that caused him be smacked by Thatcher's mother as well as his own.

“Well John dear, if you don't mind, would you drive with Casey, Harlow, and Thatcher? I'm certain we can fit everyone else into our car.” Mrs. De Vries asked.

“Of course Mrs. De Vries,” John said smiling “I was just about to offer.”

Thatcher's mother gushed about John being sweet, and Thatcher muttered a rude comment under his breath, earning a harsh stare from his mother.

“What do you think he wants?”she murmured.

Thatcher paused, eying her slowly “I could think of a few things.”

She smacked him in the chest, “you're fucking sick.”

By the time they had gotten outside Casey and John were already in the car talking amongst each other.

“Look,” Thatcher said in a low voice pinning Harlow between and the car, “all I'm saying is you're the kind of girl that John would love to corrupt. That's how he gets his rocks off, he takes sweet little girls and turns them into lesser versions of Casey. That's what he likes to do, so just don't give him the satisfaction of getting what he wants, okay?”

“Hey are you guys going to get in the car or are you going to start fucking out there?” Casey yelled.

Thatcher moved and opened the door for Harlow, allowing her to slide in the car. From the rear-view mirror she could see John smiling at her, a sight that made her strangely nervous and excited at the same time. As Thatcher got in the car he sat closer than what would have been considered normal for two people sharing a backseat, and threw an arm around Harlow's shoulders. When she looked back up she saw that John was now frowning, eying her and Thatcher.

“Are you two like a couple or something?” John muttered as he got onto the freeway.

“No,” Harlow said flattening her dress out with her hands, “we're just friends.”

“Yeah John,” Thatcher added, “believe it or not a boy and a girl can be friends without fucking being involved.”

John didn't respond, but when Harlow looked up she could see that his frown had now been replaced with a smug smirk, and she couldn't help but feel terribly confused by this action.