Let's Pretend It's Love

“You okay?”

Harry asks for perhaps the hundredth time, his hand fastened to the steering wheel and green eyes sweeping over in my direction briefly.

We’d been driving for about a good three hours and Harry had done a great job of keeping me entertained with his interesting taste in music and snacks. I tore my gaze away from the never ending scenery of snow covered hills and trees, my lips curled into a small smile.

“You asked that about ten minuets ago.” I replied before folding my arms tight around my body in an attempt to keep warm. Harry had set the heating system on high but with all the snow outside the cold still seemed to seep through the vehicle.

He shrugged whilst keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

“I gotta know if you’re okay. I’m carrying precious cargo here.”

His reply came out in a smooth rasp and I tried hard to fight the blush that was creeping onto my cheeks.

“I bet you use that line on all the girls.” I retorted.

Harry’s scoffed in a tone of mock offense.

“I never recycle pick-up lines. And even if I did, you’d still be the most precious cargo of them all.”

Part of me wishes he would shut up and stop saying all the right things. Another part of me feels tickled by his flattery and wishes he would continue but I know better than to be so naievee.

“Are we there yet?” I asked hoping to change the topic.

“Bout thirty more minuets. If you’re feeling hungry we could stop somewhere or we always raid the refrigerator once we get to the house. My mum always stocks up on food when I’m coming home. Perks of being the favorite child and all.” He replied arrogantly, a devilish smirk playing on his lips.

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m sure it took you quite a bit of time to convince yourself of that.” I replied.

Harry smirked, the imprint of his dimples showing slightly. “I don’t need to convince myself. I know I’m the golden child.”

Once we’d finally touched down in Harry’s home town the rest of the ride was spent pointing out landmarks and places that were important to him. Holmes Chapel was a pretty, quaint little town. The kind that belonged in Hallmark cards or the sort of town that ordinary and elderly couples dreamed of settling down in. Every bit of it felt so homey but no matter how inviting the atmosphere was I couldn’t help the anxiety that was brewing in my stomach.

I knew why I was so anxious but at the same time I didn’t. I wasn’t anxious person at all but I’d come to realize that being around Harry made feel emotions I wasn’t quite used to feeling.

I’d sort of zoned out for the rest of the ride only picking up bits and pieces of what Harry was saying. I was so tuned into to my own thoughts I hadn’t noticed the engine shutting off or the cozy little brick house house we’d stopped in front of.

Harry exhaled deeply whilst slowly peeling his hands away from the steering wheel.

“So, we’re here.” He rasped.

I was beginning to regret stuffing myself with so many crisp and orange slices for the past three hours as a huge sigh escaped from my lips.

“Yeah.”

The corner of Harry’s perfectly pink lips curved into a smile.

“My parents aren’t going to eat you alive, Pres. They’re like the least intimidating people ever. My mum is like a helpless little lamb in comparison to yours.” He assured me.

I kinked a brow.

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

Harry shrugged out of his seatbelt.

“You can’t sit in here forever, Presley.”

I sighed realizing that Harry was right. Unbuckling my seatbelt I cursed myself for being so nervous. I was being so silly. What was there to be afraid of?

Things were silent between Harry and I as we followed the stone pathway to the house’s front door. The only sound audible was the fallen snow crunching beneath our boots. The snow was beginning to fall again and I stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep them warm. Harry gave me a small smile once we approached the front door as he dug in his coat pockets retrieving a single key which I assumed belonged to the house.

The door swung open with ease and the smell of peppermint and clean linen invaded my senses. There was a short hallway in the entry of the house and there was a set of stairs leading up the the bedrooms. The decor was quite simple and the colors were warm earthy tones. Things were rather quiet with the exception of soft, jazz style Christmas music flooding through the house.

“Mum! Gems! I’m home!” Harry shouted into the distance, making his way further into the house.

That nervous feeling was returning to my stomach again and I deliberately slowed down my steps so that I fell behind Harry’s lanky figure.

“In the kitchen!” A feminine voice replied.

I was certain that Harry had forgotten all about me because his steps had quickened almost to that of a run. It was actually kind of cute but with his long legs it was hard to catch up.

“Mummy!” He shouted once we’d finally reached the kitchen.

A woman stood over one the counter, her hair pulled up into a high bun and her back turned to us, peering down at a cookbook.

So this was Harry’s angel of a mother. St. Anne herself in the flesh.

The woman spun around revealing a much younger and slightly different face.

“Oh God, no. I’m glad I didn’t give birth to you. Do you know how long it look Mum to push out your football sized head?”

I bit my lip in an attempt to hide the grin that was fighting to make it way across my face, whilst Harry’s dimpled smile had disappeared.

“Oh, it’s just you. The spawn of satan .” Harry retorted.

Her eyebrows rose as she propped her elbows on the kitchen’s island.

“If I’m the spawn of satan then so are you. Don’t forget we come from the same seed.”

Harry rolled his eyes before a wide grin returned to his face.

“You know I’m glad to see you, Gem.”

I couldn’t help but smile watching as brother and sister embrace after such an exchange.

“Not so tight, remember? You’ll crush my little bun in the oven.” Gemma spoke feverishly gesturing to the tiny bump hidden under her black jumper after breaking the embrace with her brother.

Harry smiled warmly.

“Right, I forgot.”

Gemma beamed at her brother, placing her hands over her stomach in a protective manner before turning her gaze to me. A small smile settled on her lips and I couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous under her gaze.

“So, you’re not going to introduce me to your company?” She questioned turning back to Harry.

He turned to me with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He made way to the other side of the kitchen island before wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“Gemma this is Presley, Presley meet Gemma, my big sis.”

I smiled politely, reaching my hand over the kitchen island for her to shake.

“Nice to finally meet you, Gemma.”

She grinned.

“Put that hand away. We do hugs in this family.” She insisted before making her way around the island to envelope me in a hug.

I was careful not to squeeze too tight in fear that I’d squash her growing belly. Gemma pulled away and turned to Harry with an even wider grin.

“She’s a stunner, Harry. How much did you pay her to be your date?”

I giggled as Harry narrowed his green eyes, his lips pursing into a thin line.

“I don’t know, Gems. Wouldn’t you know the going rate? You’re into that low-key type of prostitution. Didn’t you pay a bloke to be your date some years back?”

My eyebrows furrowed at the way the conversation was going.

Gemma gasped.

“That was one time! I was young and desperate and Mum and Robin wouldn’t get off my back!”

I just stood there, awkwardly as Harry and Gemma continued to argue. My stomach began growling and I was wondering if it was a good idea to cut this quarrel short with the mention of lunch. If there was one thing I knew , food could end wars.

“What on earth is all this noise? Someone’s going to wake poor Tabs up!” Another feminine voice shouted in that of a hushed whisper drifting its way into the kitchen.

Gemma grew quiet returning back to her cook book as if nothing ever happened while Harry scowled.

“Mum! Gemma is antagonizing me and I just got home!” He whined.

Anne sighed making her presence known, her feet barely making a sound as she padded into the kitchen. She was much prettier in person than the photos I’d seen in Harry’s flat but her face held some what of an exhausted expression.

“Must you two fight every holiday? Gemma, if you’re not going to help me cook then I suggest you stay out of the kitchen and you,” She pointed a manicured finger in Harry’s direction.

“What is that? This can’t possibly be proper garments for this weather. You’ll catch a cold.”

She scolded in a typical motherly manner giving Harry’s faded and worn Rolling Stone’s t-shirt a tug. It was his absolute favorite shirt in the world and he’d worn it until tiny holes could be seen through it. I suppose he’d be buried in that shirt if he had a say.

“You’re going to tear it, Mum!” He whined.

There seemed to be so much going on in the Styles household that no one seemed to have time to acknowledge my presence. Not that I was complaining or anything. The longer I could stay invisible better.

Anne sauntered over to the refrigerator before stopping, placing a hand over her mouth.

“Oh dear, how rude of me! I completely forgot about our guest.” She turned to me with an apologetic smile.

“Hi, love. I’m Anne”

I grinned. “Presley. It’s great to finally meet you. Harry practically worships you.”

Anne reached over, engulfing me into a hug that was much similar to Gemma’s. No wonder Harry’s so touchy-feely. His family seemed to love physical contact.

She pulled away smiling.

“You’d be surprised about how much Harry talks about you. I’m quite glad to finally meet you and put a face to a name. You’re much prettier than Harry described too.”

I could feel the color rising to my cheeks as I glanced over at Harry. My suspicion was correct. Harry had told his family quite a bit about me.

I smiled, pushing a falling strand of hair away from my face.

“Thank you. You’re quite lovely yourself.”

Anne smiled as she grabbed the silver kettle from the stove top, filling it with water.

“Take off your coat and make yourself at home. I’m sure you’re quite tired from the drive here.”

I smirked at Harry who’d snuck over to the the refrigerator, his tall frame peeking over the open door.

“That reminds me. Since I found out you were coming on such short notice I didn’t have enough time to prepare a guest room. You’ll have to share with Harry if that’s okay with you,” Anne continued.

My stomach dropped and the feeling of nervousness was returning. I didn’t want to be rude and decline Anne’s offer but bed sharing was just something I didn’t do. In fact, I hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since I was a little girl and Penny and I had to share a bed at Nan and Poppy’s house. I’d always been a wild sleeper and an extra body would only cramp my style.

“Oh, that should be just fine.” I replied hoping to disguise the disappointment in my voice.

“If you change your mind just let me know. Harry can always sleep on the couch.” She added before going to the cupboard.

Harry peeped his head from the fridge, apple in hand as he rolled his eyes.

“Mum, I can handle myself.”

He turned to me with a smirk. “We’ll have great fun, Pres. We can braid each other’s hair and talk about our crushes.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smirk that was forming on my face.

“You know, I’m glad my baby brother’s found someone who can deal with his weirdness.” Gemma announced looking up from her cookbook.

Anne grinned. “Me too, Gems. Me too.”

*****
I sighed, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror. My hair was being stubborn, I had no idea what to wear and Christmas Eve dinner was probably starting downstairs without me. I’d finally given up and decided pull my hair back and throw on comfortable clothes when I heard the door creaking open.

In the mirror’s reflection I could see Harry leaning against the bathroom’s door frame, dimpled smirk and clad in a bright red Christmas jumper, a polaroid camera dangling from his neck.

“Smile, Pres!”

I didn’t have time to react before the flash burned through my corneas. I frowned, squeezing my eyes tight in an attempt to regain my normal vision.

“You did not just snap a picture a picture of me.” I sneered.

The corner of his lips turned up in a lazy grin.

“I did.” Harry drawled casually.

I rolled my eyes, running a hand through my hair.

“As you can see, I’m not quite photo ready.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re beautiful either way. Dinner’s starting soon. You coming down?”

I sauntered out of the bathroom in search of my duffle bag that was located somewhere near Harry’s bed, the echo of his boots following close behind.

“In a moment. I’m kind of in a fashion crisis right now.”

I rummaged through the bag trying to focus on my choice of garments but it was hard with Harry practically pressed up against my backside and breathing down my neck, the smell of his strong cologne wasn’t helping either.

My breath hitched in my throat as I spun around to face him practically bumping into him in the process, his gaze penetrating.

“W-what are you doing?” I questioned.

Harry smiled before taking a step back. His arms had been crossed behind him and he slowly brought them in view revealing a red jumper identical to his own.

“Wear this.”

I took the jumper from his grasp, digging my fingers into the soft material.

“My family wears a new one of these every year. It’s kind of a dorky tradition. When Mum found out you were coming she picked up another one.”

I couldn’t find the words to say and as I stared at the jumper. There was a feeling brewing deep in my stomach, A strong feeling I could neither describe nor name.

“It’s the perfect thing to wear.”

The jumper slipped over my head with ease, adding a layer of warmth to the thin t-shirt I was wearing underneath. I stared down at the bright green Christmas tree embroidered in the center and then back up at Harry.

“How do I look?” I questioned before placing my hands on my hips.

Harry grinned.

“Lovely. Quite lovely.”

“There you two are! I was suspicious as to what you were doing up there.” Gemma once we’d finally made it downstairs.

Her jumper identical to Harry’s and mine stretched over her growing belly and her arms were full of silverware. George, Gemma’s husband and their little girl Tabitha were already seated at the table along with Anne and her husband Robin. The dinning room table had been beautifully decorated with holly berries and Christmas flowers, three tall candles served as the center piece, giving a final touch of elegance. The spread of food on the table was almost never ending.

Harry rolled his eyes as he grabbed hold of my hand, gently tugging my in the direction of the table.

“Gemma, don’t even start.” He warned.

Anne shot her children a warming glance before smiling at me.

“You’re wearing the jumper! Doesn’t it look great on her, Robin?” She exclaimed before placing her napkin across her lap.

Robin nodded. “Fits like a glove.”

“Hally! Sit!” Tabitha squealed upon noticing Harry.

She was nearly three and not quite able to pronounce her r’s. Through out the most of the afternoon I’d watched Harry interacting with her and it was quite easy to tell she was just as crazy about him as he was about her. She pointed her chubby finger to the empty chair beside her.

“Of course I’ll sit by you, pumpkin.” Harry replied with a dimpled grin.

He pulled out my chair before taking his own seat, adjusting the bib attached to the little girl’s neck. The was a comfortable silence between us all once everyone was seated. To say everything looked together would have been an understatement. It was perfect.

“Robin, will you lead us all in prayer?” Anne asked.

In an almost rehearsed manner everyone linked hands, closed their eyes and bowed their heads, even tiny Tabitha. I grabbed hold of Harry’s hand and bowed my own head, hoping not to look out of place.

As Robin proceeded with the prayer I couldn’t help but sneak a peak at Harry. There was something special about this moment, something merely magical. Maybe it was the way his hair tumbled in his face or the almost angelic glow the candles cast upon him. Or maybe it was knowing how perfectly his hand fit into mine or the high of Christmas cheer and hospitality. Whatever it was left me lost for words with the biggest lump in my throat. This feeling- whatever you call it- was a feeling I’d decided was one in a million.