Getting Caught in the Rain

There is no way Harry can complain about his life. He's got the best friends he can ask for, a family who loves him, and good health. His job may not be the best, but it pays well and he gets along with the people there. He lives in an apartment, but it's fairly spacious and it's got running water and heat. Harry knows that compared to some people, he's got a fantastic life.

Only, well, he's twenty-three years old and he's got a kid.

Harry was young, bushy-haired, and doe-eyed when he met Cara. She immediately intruiged him, the way she seemed almost dangerous. It took a bit of pursuading and a lot of public humiliation on his part, but she finally agreed to go out with him. One date turned into two and two turned into three until they were going out regularly and she started calling him her "boyfriend."

Cara was two years older than him, tall, and smart as a whip. Harry's mother often referred to her as a "piece of work," meaning that she wasn't afraid of anyone and didn't care if they knew it. She liked acting but wanted to be a model when she got older, and did as many local shows as she could, hoping some agents would eventually turn up and want to sign her.

Suddenly, Harry found himself dragged into a world unlike any he'd ever known. He accompanied her to some of her fashion shows and met her pompous model friends and sat in the front row and clapped politely every time she strutted out. He went to prestigious parties thrown by people many years older than him. Sometimes he would go over to Cara's house and she would lie on her bed and smoke her mother's cigarette's and they would listen to records on the old record player for hours on end. Harry hated the smell of the smoke, but he pretended not to mind.

They'd been together for about four months when it was Cara's birthday and she decided two things: she wanted to go clubbing, and she wanted Harry to come. Harry knew that his parents would be furious if they found out he went to a bar when he wasn't supposed to. He didn't even really want to go.

Still, he told his mum that he and Cara were going out with friends and that he would be sleeping over his friend Will's house afterwards. And he let her drag him to the club.

Harry had been around drunk people before. He'd gone to a few parties where there'd been kegs, and he'd seen his friends have one too many beers and stumble around, puking in the bushes, etc. But this? This was different. The club was hot and sweaty and thick with pulsating music. People were teetering around outside, falling on the sidewalk and vomiting in the gutter. And for the first time, Harry found himself slowly becoming one of those people, allowing himself to have another beer and another and another until his head was fuzzy and he couldn't walk straight.

The next thing he knew, he was on Cara's bed and she was kissing his neck and unbuttoning his shirt and touching him in a way that made him feel very, very good.

So, yeah, they'd had sex. They didn't dwell on it; it was just a thing that happened on Cara's birthday and the whole thing was soon forgotten. That is, until Cara called Harry about a month later, crying her eyes out and blubbering something about how she'd missed her period and was throwing up a lot and blah, blah, blah.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, calm down," Harry'd said over and over until she finally paused in between sobs to tell him that her mother had taken her to Planned Parenthood and that she was pregnant.

So, that was that. Harry was going to be a father and he wasn't even twenty yet. It seemed like all he ever did was apologize. He apologized to Cara, he apologized to her family, and he apologized countless times to his mother, stepdad, and sister, all of whom were disappointed but not angry. The two families had met and they'd decided that Harry and Cara should take a break in their relationship, but Harry would still be involved in the baby's life and of course they'd raise it together. Going back to school was only mildly difficult for him, but he knew it was worse for Cara, who got made fun of for getting knocked up by that baby-faced kid Harry Styles. However, she walked through the halls with her head held high, confident and almost proud of her baby bump.

Then Olivia Rose was born and the two of them plunged into parenthood. It was okay, for the most part. Harry stayed at Cara's house and slept in their guest room at night. He learned how to feed Oliva, change her diaper, hold her, burp her, and lay her down. She began to sleep through the night fairly quickly, and she was a pretty happy baby altogether. So things were good for a while.

But then, more and more people started to show up to Cara's shows. Smartly dressed men and women would go backstage and ask for her, congratulating her and complimenting her and handing over business cards. Cara would smile and shake hands while Harry hovered behind, suddenly feeling extremely young and stupid.

He didn't really think anything would happen until one day, when Olivia was around five months. Cara sat him down on her couch and said, without looking him in the eyes, "I got offered a contract. In London."

"You did? That's brilliant," Harry said, genuinely happy for her. He knew how much modeling meant to her.

"I'm not going to take it," she said softly.

"What? Why?"

She gave him a look like he was crazy. "I can't leave you and Olivia and run off to London, Haz. And there's no way you could come with me. I'll be busy all the time and you'll have to get another job and there's no way we could find someone to watch Ols."

"But -"

"It's fine. There'll be plenty of other opportunities, right?" They both knew she was wrong, though. Things like that only came around once in a while, and if Cara didn't take her chance, she might not get an opprotunity like that ever again.

Harry looked at her, and then he looked at Olivia, sleeping in her playpen a few feet away. And then, in a split second, he made a very big decision. "Take the job," he told her.

"What?"

"Go to London and take the job."

"Harry, I can't just leave you and her."

"Yes, you can. We'll be fine."

"But . . . but what are you going to do? That's . . . Harry . . ." He could tell that she wanted to agree more than anything, but knew she shouldn't. Harry saw the desire in her eyes, the hope that all wasn't lost.

"Cara." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Go."

So that was that. Cara left for London about a month later. She still paid child support and they agreed that she could see Olivia two weekends a month. Other than that, Olivia was to stay with Harry in Holmes Chapel.

It was very difficult at first. Olivia moved in with Harry and his family, and suddenly he was the one who was up in the middle of the night, changing her diapers when she cried. Suddenly he was bringing her over to Cara's house so her mother could watch Olivia while he was at school. Parenting became a full-time job, and Harry barely had time for school or work anymore, much less friends.

So, this cost him quite a few of his mates, who just couldn't understand why he let Cara run off and model and leave him to take care of a baby. But he didn't mind. He had Olivia, and she was all he needed.

Once he reached uni, though, he met Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn. The five of them all clicked instantly and they didn't seem to mind that he had a kid. They stayed friends all through school and when they graduated, they decided to move to Manchester and live in the same building. Niall moved into the apartment across from Harry, and Liam, Louis, and Zayn were a floor below them. Harry got a job at a major corportation downtown, and it paid enough to provide shelter, food, and other necessities for him and Olivia.

So, that was his life. It wasn't perfect, but he liked it just the same. He and Cara, despite having ended their relationship, were still on good terms. They wanted to make sure that even though they weren't together Olivia would still be able to get close to her mother, and so far it was working. Olivia wanted to be just like her mum when she got older, going on and on about the nice clothes and the nice people Mummy got to work with.

Olivia. Olivia, who had been born with her mother's straight locks but had inherited Harry's brown hair and green eyes. Olivia, who pulled at her bottom lip the same way he did. Olivia, who liked dancing with him and didn't mind when he put on classic rock or strange indie music. Olivia, who was only four and had managed to wrap him around her tiny finger already.

Sometimes, it felt like she was his own personal sun. If he had a hard day at work or just wasn't feeling good, all he had to do was go home and the second he opened the door she would come running to him, squeaking, "Daddy! You're back! Guess what I did today!" She was radiant, glowing from the second she woke up. And she was warm, from the soft touch of her skin to her personality, the way she shared everything and loved everyone without having to be told.

And it wasn't just Harry. Wherever Olivia went, everyone seemed to adore her. Harry's mother called it the Olivia-spell because it was like magic, how fast and hard she got people to love her.

But there was nobody in the entire world who loved Olivia more than Harry, he was sure of that. People often commented on how much Olivia looked like him, and he knew it was true. When Olivia was serious or stubborn, she had the same lock-jawed expression as her mother, making her blue eyes stand out.

But when she was happy, laughing, twirling and dancing with Harry, her dimples popped out and even Harry could see the striking resemblance of himself in her face. And he would look at her and his heart would do this thing where it would swell, and he could literally feel it growing bigger and bigger in his chest, threatening to explode and shower the amount of love he had for this girl everywhere.

But of course, it wasn't all good. It was hard, raising a kid when he was barely an adult himself. Olivia was stubborn, like much her mother, and she was very particular about things. She tended to pout when something didn't go her way, and she always insisted on doing things herself and then getting them incorrect halfway through.

Sometimes, she would yell at Harry or talk back to him and he would get mad and yell back, because couldn't she see how hard he was trying to make things good for them? He worked all day and came home tired and the least she could do was listen. So he'd send her to her room and they'd both be angry at each other for a while.

But then he'd remember that she was only four and that she was trying, too. So he'd go into her room and he would say sorry and she would say sorry too and they'd hug and then get into their pajamas (they always had a pajama race) and crawl into Harry's bed and he'd read a story to her. She always fell asleep and he'd have to carry her back to her room, but he didn't mind.

Harry's favorite part was when Olivia would cuddle right in under his arm and as she would fall asleep, she'd mumble, "I love you to infinity and beyond, Daddy."

They always said that before bedtime. And he would smile and say back, "I love you to infinity and beyond too, baby."

So, yeah. There were some pretty bad moments. But there were good moments, too, and as long as he has his favorite girl, he's happy with his life.

Olivia is watching TV right now, and Harry's still contemplating whether or not the nanny thing is such a good idea. He can hear her laughing at whatever Dora the Explorer is doing this time, and he chews his lip. He decides that before he does anything, he should make sure Olivia is okay with having someone new taking care of her.

His mother had given them leftover biscuits she'd baked a few days ago, so he grabs two and goes into the TV room and plops next to Olivia. "Hey, Livs, I brought you one of Grandma's biscuits that you love."

"I love Grandma's biscuits," she says, eagerly grabbing it and taking a bite.

"What do you say?"

"Thank you," she repeats obediently through a mouthful of chocolate chips. She crawls into his lap and together they watch Dora and Boots go to the chocolate tree. She sings along to the chocolate tree song. "Look, Daddy, I can sing it in Spanish like them."

"I see. Good job, Livs." They watch Dora for a little bit more before he clears his throat and says, "Hey, Livvy?" She tilts her head back and looks at him. Well, no backing down now. "You know how Uncle Louis and Uncle Niall usually come over and play with you while Daddy's at work?"

She nods. "Well, the store they own is getting a lot busier, and they won't be able to play with you anymore." Her eyes get wide, and he hurries on, "You can still see them, don't worry, they'll still come over. They just can't play with you every day now."

She looks confused. "So who will play with me now?"

"Well, I was thinking that we could hire someone to do it. We could put an ad in the paper and if someone responds to it, they could come over and we can see if you like them. And if you do, then they can come and play with you while I'm at work. How does that sound?"

"Hire someone? Like . . . like your boss hired you?"

"Yes, exactly."

She furrows her eyebrows. "So . . . so . . . we're buying me a friend to play with?"

It's good enough. "Not exactly, but if you want to think about it like that, sure," Harry agrees. "What do you think?"

"I like new friends," Olivia says enthusiastically. "Do you think they'll make me cupcakes? Uncle Louis always burns his cupcakes." She settles back into his lap and chatters on and Harry wonders why he ever doubted this girl in the first place.