Awkward Beat [H.S]

Chapter 13

In which Fitz goes way, way too far. 

Chapter 13

If Harry thought that time and being bogged down with exams would cool me off after our altercation, he was sorely mistaken. I hadn't forgotten about Lola, and I most certainly hadn't forgotten that he'd called our charade a game. It just so happened that on the night of our date with his father and Muffy, I was prepared to make my first move.

Harry stared me up and down as I joined him in the kitchen before his father picked us up.

We hadn't been told where we'd be going for dinner, but Harry wore a nice pair of dark wash jeans and a

hunter green shirt underneath a black blazer, just to be safe and decent.

He was in the process of tucking a folded piece of paper into his back pocket – a list of his most recent grades to present to his father.

I, on the other hand, chose a pair of black, knee high heeled boots, a navy blue dress that clung to all my curves and barely extended to mid thigh, and a form fitted leather jacket as my evening wear. I may have even borrowed the dress and the jacket from Macy's roommates specifically for the occasion.

I popped one of my hips and placed my hand there, waiting expectantly for Harry's first words. His eyes were still travelling over me, lingering on the exposed skin between the boots and the dress. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

"What—" he began, but his voice came out throaty and cracked. He coughed to clear it, trying again as his gaze met mine. "What is that?"

"It's my outfit," I replied, as nonchalant as could be. I twirled on my feet to show it off.

He licked his lips, waiting for me to dissolve in laughter. When I did no such thing, he said firmly, "No it's not."

I shrugged in cavalier fashion. "You said your father likes you with innocent girls. So what do you think? Do I look..." I bit my lip suggestively, "... innocent?"

Harry appeared to clue in that I was only doing this to torture him, and he visibly relaxed his posture. "Very funny, Fitz. You're hilarious. Now go and change."

"No, I don't think I will," I said, sauntering to the front door to get my purse. "Does it make you uncomfortable that your father might realize the type of girls you actually stick it in?"

"Please, reserve your classiest language for the dinner table," Harry shot back, his eyes darkening to the colour of his shirt.

"Oh, don't you worry, apple of my eye," I said, flashing him the brightest of grins. "I have plenty reserved for the dinner table."

*

Mr. Styles and the soon to be Mrs. Muffy Styles met us by the front doors of the building in their idling car. They'd been driving over an hour from Harry's hometown of Holmes Chapel, so once we parked outside of the restaurant, they were happy to step out and stretch.

When Muffy got out of the car and stood, I realized that her outfit bore a striking resemblance to mine. Boots, dress, cropped jacket. Of course, with her gigantic breasts, she filled out her dress a little more and the jacket appeared strained on her chest – still, to my annoyance, the similarities weren't lost on Harry.

"Hmm," he hummed to himself as met me on my side of the car and held out his arm to me.

"Like peas in a pod, you two. Wouldn't you say, doll face?"

I linked my arm with his as we walked to the doors, never skipping a beat. "Maybe so. Oh, but isn't that what you wanted, sugar pie?"

Unaffected, Harry kept smiling. "Maybe so," he repeated.