In the time it takes Harry to get here, both my parents arrive home from work, and neither shows even the slightest intention of driving me back tonight. At this realization, I become so thankful that Harry is stubborn enough to make me go with him. He did give me a choice, but his insistence is what pushed me to agree in the first place.

When my mother starts to cook dinner, I get a text from Harry saying that he's about twenty minutes away. It hits me now that I'm about to see Harry in person and we're about to spend three hours alone in a car together. I don't think I can properly express my stress and anxiety about the notion of this, but let me just say, it's pretty intense. Not only will I have to endure this ride, but I also have to tell my parents that I will be going with him. In hindsight, I should have told them after I got off the phone with him so that, on the off chance that my parents want me to stay, my dad won't make Harry turn around and drive the whole way back by himself. I swear, if my dad does that, I'm just going to run away. If that fails, then I'm going to live in a ditch out of shame because that's obviously my only remaining course of action.

With a deep breath, I walk into the kitchen and find my mom standing by the stove sautéing onions.

This is it, Cam. I try to hype myself up. She's going to find out anyway, so just tell her.

"Hey, mom?" I begin sheepishly. If I were watching me speak right now, I'd probably think I was about to ask for an absurd amount of money or something ridiculous like that. That is to say, despite my attempt at a pep talk, my nerves are effectively betraying me.

"Yes?" she replies sweetly, awaiting my response but keeping her focus on the onions in front of her.

"Um, do you remember Harry? He's the one who, you know, helped me."

At this, my mother turns around to look at me. I haven't said anything about the other night this entire weekend, so I suppose she's expecting me to 'open up about my feelings' or something. Think again, mommy dearest.

Before she can try to probe me for the kind of conversation she wants to have, I say what I need to say, probably a little too quickly, "He's coming here to get me."

My mother sets down her spatula and turns to me. Oh shit. Shit gets real when the onions are left unstirred.

"When is he getting here?" My mother sounds frustrated, and I can see the anger building up on her brow as the creases in her forehead deepen. This is going to be an unpleasant conversation.

I bite my lip and take a deep breath as if to brace for her reaction, "Twenty minutes."

A silence falls over us and the tension in the room heightens with every passing second. The silence seems to last forever, until, all at once, my mother walks out the kitchen and yells at me to "sauté the onions for God's sake" in a rather aggravated tone. Unsure of what to do, I walk to the stove and begin stirring the mixture in the pan. After several seconds, I begin to hear the loud voices of my parents somewhere in the house. They seem to be yelling, but not quite loud enough for me to understand their words clearly. Eventually, the both enter the kitchen looking unusually calm.

Again, the tension returns and I am surprised when my father doesn't yell at me, he simply asks, "Do you know why we made you come home with us?"

I did not expect this question at all, but I suppose it has a simple enough answer.

"Because I screwed up and you wanted to keep an eye on me?" I suggest, fully convinced that this is true.

My father sighs, "That's partially true, but we brought you home because you need to understand that your actions have consequences."

Um, are you kidding me? I was drugged and could have died from an overdose, and they think that I haven't learned anything for that? Unbelievable.

"I think I realize that, or did I dream the whole hospital experience?" I pause for a moment to keep from raising my voice. If I yell, then this conversation is for sure not going to go well. With a a sigh, I try to reason with my parents, "If y'all are worried that I'm going to go to frat parties and drink there, you shouldn't be. I might still go, but I am never drinking at one again. And to be fair, I only had like half a cup of whatever it was so it's not like I was trying to get drunk."

As I finish, I can see my father contemplating my words, but he nonetheless looks frustrated with me. I don't know why he would be frustrated; all I'm trying to do is to explain to them that they needn't worry about me. Surely, they understand that I don't have some absurd desire to rebel or something like that. I just screwed up, and luckily, Harry was there to save me.

"It's not that you don't have good intentions, Camryn," my dad begins, taking a seat at the counter. "It's that you need to be smarter, if not for your own sake, for ours. You can't imagine how scared we were when that boy called to tell us that you were in the hospital."

I guess he has a point, but I still don't get why they are wanting to have this conversation now that Harry is on his way. I don't see why they didn't just talk to me about this literally any time this weekend instead of keeping me here while I'm supposed to be in class.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I was scared, too. I just messed up this time, but I'm going to do better; I promise," I tell them, meaning it. Hopefully, this will be enough for them to let me go back tonight.

After several moments and several glances exchanged between my parents, my father nods and says, "Okay, then. One more thing, who is this boy and why is he driving all this way for you?"

Bruh, wouldn't I like to know the answer to that.

My father's first question is the one that distresses me. I'm ninety percent sure my parents would disapprove of me going out with a tatted up senior who just so happens to also be one of my TAs. Given that, I'm not really sure what to tell them. Clearly, I can't tell him we met at the party because my parents would never believe that someone would drive all this way for someone who talked to me once at a band party. I also can't tell them that he's my TA; they surely would never allow me to go with him then. I guess I could tell them I met him while I was watching out for my roommates at a club. That would show them that I have been somewhat responsible in college, and it's the truth, so it's not all that bad of a plan at all. I don't know what I overcomplicated that, to be honest. 

"Well, my roommates needed a DD one of the first nights, so I volunteered, and while I was there, I met him. We've hung out a few times, and obviously, he's the one who brought me to the hospital, so I really owe him big time," I tell them, now trying to mentally attack the second question.

I suppose it's possible that Harry likes me, but John's warning still lingers in my mind. He's an expert at making girls fall in love with him. Under any other circumstances, I would assume that he does like me, but I can't help but think that I could be the next victim in his game. But then again, would he actually put this much effort into a game? I honestly don't know.

I shrug as my mom takes the spatula from me and begins adding more ingredients to whatever dish she is making, "And I honestly don't know why he would drive all this way. I mean, I appreciate it, but I don't know what his angle is."

My father opens his mouth to speak, but he is cut off by the doorbell. Shit, he's earlier than I thought he would be. My chest tightens at the thought of Harry in my house, and much more so at the thought of he and my parents talking together. I know they already met him at the hospital, but still, this time there's going to be questions and assumptions about Harry and I's relationship that I don't have the energy to deal with. More than that, I wouldn't even begin to know the answers to these questions, so it looks like I'm in for an awkward encounter.

I leave my parents in the kitchen to go open the door, and when I do, I'm not disappointed in the least. For just a moment, my stress seems to disappear as I take in Harry's appearance. He has on those amazing black jeans that I love along with the black T-shirt that is pulled tight across his chest and arms. Oof, swoon. I force myself back into the present and smile at the handsome man before me.

"Hey," is all I can manage before I usher him inside.

His green eyes glance about the entryway, and he cocks his head to the side, "Wow, I drive all this way and all I get is 'Hey'? That's just rude."

I know he's joking, but his words nonetheless catch me off guard and I am clueless as to what he wants me to say. He watches me intently as I try to configure a clever retort, but to my embarrassment, his attractiveness literally has me speechless. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but I guess one does not ever really get used to the beautiful man that is Harry Styles.

With a chuckle and a shake of the head, Harry grins at me, "I'm only joking, Camryn. Now, what is that smell? It smells amazing in here."

At this, my mother walks into the entryway still holding a spatula, "I'm making fajitas if you would like to join us for dinner?"

And then, in the strangest turn of events, my mother fucking hugs Harry before greeting him properly. Um, mom, what the fuck? And he hugs her back! Um, Harry, what the fuck?

In this moment, I find that my only thought happens to come from my favorite vine of all time: I am confusion. I mean, who knew that Harry and my mother were so close? My parents told me they spoke to him at the hospital, but I wonder how long that conversation was. I desperately want to ask Harry about it when we get in the car, but then again, maybe not knowing how well they know him is a good thing.

"It's lovely to see you again, Margaret," Harry beams at her, then crosses his muscular arms over his broad chest. This movement almost distracts me from the fact that he has just addressed my mother by her first name. Almost. I can't help but widen my eyes in disbelief at the scene unfolding before me. Why did my father ask me all those questions about Harry if my mother is apparently so well-acquainted with him?

Harry interrupts my confused state by adding yet another layer of confusion to my poor, rattled brain, "I would love to, but I'm afraid I can only stay for about twenty minutes. I have to work at ten."

His acceptance of my mother's dinner invitation nearly sends me reeling into the closed door behind me. I didn't prepare myself for an encounter between Harry and my parents that lasted longer than seven minutes, but now I am expected to endure twenty of them around the dinner table. The second thing that catches me off guard is the whole work thing. I guess I should have known he has a job, but still, who the hell reports to work at ten at night? If he's some sort of male escort, I'm going to dig my own grave, then fucking die.

Everything that follows sort of happens in a blur. We sit down for dinner, my parents ask him questions, he responds cleverly and politely. I should be listening, but I find that my racing heartbeat is too loud in my ears to even pay attention to the beautiful way in which Harry speaks. After several minutes of me just sitting there silently, my father directs a question towards me, and I have to have him repeat it twice before I just nod and say 'yes', hoping that it is a yes or no question. It must be since my father smiles contentedly and moves on to something else.

I wish I could confidently say that Harry made a good impression, but I honestly don't know. I was too out of it to actually get an accurate read on the situation. I assume he did well, though, because my parents seem genuinely happy to speak to him.

While the dinner seemed to last forever in the moment, it is over before I know it, and the plates are being rinsed. I go up to my room briefly and shove my clothes in my bag so that Harry and I can leave to return to school. As I am rushing out of my room, I quite literally run into Harry's chest much like the first time we met.

"Ow!" I whisper, looking up at him.

The smallest smirk pulls at his mouth as his strikingly green eyes fixate on me, "We have to stop meeting like this."

"What are you doing up here?" I ask him, adjusting the heavy bag on my shoulder. Harry takes notice of my struggle and takes it from me, placing it on the ground beside him.

He leans against the wall in the most suave way before answering, "I just wanted to see what was taking so long." Knowing this to be false since I have only been up here for maybe three minutes, I take a step closer to him and glare up at him. I don't know what sudden boldness has come over me, but the feeling makes me think that I am much more intimidating than I am.

"Why did you really come up here?" I don't know how or why the words left my mouth, but they clearly catch Harry off guard. I have only managed to do this to him maybe twice, so my unusually brave self is extremely proud.

Harry searches my face as he composes himself, and the look in his eyes gives me an idea of what he is about to say. Actually, no. I don't think he's going to say anything at all. With virtually no warning whatsoever, Harry reaches for me and plants his lips directly against mine. His hands cup either side of my face and his soft mouth moves slowly against mine. After a moment, my eyes flutter shut and I can't help but smile into him. I press myself against his body as my stiffness is replaced with the relaxing warmth of his touch.

All too soon, his lips pull away from mine and he simply looks at me, his expression desperate for some kind of validation. His hands fall away from my face as well, and I find myself missing his heat. 

"What, um, what was that for?" I ask timidly, my eyes darting between his face and the floor. At my words, I see that his face drops a little and I suddenly regret asking. "I didn't mean it like that. I just– why here?"

Harry chews on his bottom lip for a moment before replying, his eyes coming up to focus on me. He looks so sweet here in the hallway, so innocent. I have seen this look only once before and that was when we were dancing that night. He was about to kiss me then, too, I know it. This look of uncertainty and hope makes me think that he really isn't that guy who plays with all the girls' hearts. Surely, someone so nervous couldn't possibly be such a bad person. Harry rakes his hand through his thick brown hair as he answers, and I find myself nearly unable to pay attention to his words simply because of his complete and utter beauty.

"I don't know," Harry says quietly, his voice low and uncertain. "I didn't intend to when I came up here, but I just couldn't wait any longer when you were looking at me like that."

I nod slowly, but his words catch my attention. He couldn't wait any longer? Does he mean what I think he does or am I overthinking this?

Harry continues, and I notice that he looks somewhat regretful, "I– I apologize if I have overstepped. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

Harry's newfound uncertainty in his actions makes me think that I might have done something wrong to change his mind like this. I look at him confused, and he shakes his head, slinging my bag over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Harry says, walking towards the staircase. "We should go."

Yet again, I am left standing alone and confused as Harry walks away from me. When he did it before, I stood in a bar, completely enchanted by the mysteriously handsome man in the silk shirt. Now, I stand in the same attitude, just as enchanted and arguably more confused than before. Last time, I didn't follow him, but this time I will not be making the same mistake.

•••

*cries* I hope y'all enjoyed me trying to channel the "Meet Me in the Hallway" vibe lol that's probably my fav of Harry's songs... what's y'all's favorite song of his??
Also, I attached my fav vine, so be amused 

Thanks for reading, and please vote if you can!! :)
(300+ reads!! Y'all are awesome! Thank you so much!)

-Kate