Law and Order- complete

XIII

I spend forever and a day trying to figure out what to wear. After hanging up with his persistent father, Harry first chewed me out. Asking, "Are you bloody mental?", and before I was able to answer, the tangent began. Ten minutes later, he'd ask me if I had anything formal to wear, instructing that I find something decent in my closet.

This was the hard part. My wardrobe consisted of jeans and random tees. The only formal thing I could see was my prom dress from highschool, which was only a small dark red body con dress that stopped mid thigh and had thin straps. I didn't know exactly how formal Harry meant, but it was all I had.

To tone the outfit out, I throw a jean jacket over it. As I ran the stick of mascara along my lashes, I couldn't help but feel like I was actually meeting Harry's father the right way.

My hair flat ironed and curled into natural waves down my shoulders, blush applied on my cheekbone and a tinted lip gloss on my lips. I pop them in the mirror and stare at my reflection. Tiny gold hoops hung in my ears and a simple gold necklace around my neck. I turn around and look at my ass in the mirror, corners of my lips coming down as I nod satisfactory, for it to be three years old, it did me some justice.

Ellen and Miranda are both working tonight- Miranda staying late at the office to catch up on paperwork. The house is quiet as I walk down the dark stairs, using the headlights from Harry's car as a flashlight as he parks in the driveway.

The front door is locked before my feet are carrying me to the passenger side of the car. When I open it, the overhead light turns on and Harry looks at me like he's already ready to get the night over with. His dark brown hair perfectly slicked back, a small wave popping out against his forehead. He wore his usual work uniform, something I can see as formal.

I'm surprised when he says- "You look nice."

The ride is quiet, Harry turns the radio up higher than usual, telling me he doesn't care for conversation. I take the hint and lean my head against his window, thinking of the last time we were in this position. After we left the motel, I kissed him.

My stomach clenches at the embarrassing memory and I lift my gaze from the passing city as we get on the highway. Underneath us is a river. I know when Harry takes the exit off to Tryon street that wherever we're going is fancy, I'm glad I wore this dress.

We stop at The Fig Tree, an upscale place I've never been to, but only heard good things about. Harry stops in valet, pointing his chin to the door to tell me to get out, and I do. I step over the street curb and look around as Harry tosses his keys to the dull faced teen. The sky is still light, thanks to daylight savings.

The sun had already set and the sky was a swift blend of pink, orange, and blue-ish purple. The clouds were firm and puffy, stretched out across the colors. A slight breeze blew by, hitting my bare legs, and making my arms cross over my chest. When Harry is done, he nods to the doors. Again, instructing me silently.

The restaurant feels expensive. The golden chandeliers created a yellowish glow over the tables, where people chattered quietly as they clicked at their plates. A small stage held a band who played low music, a woman with dark, glowing skin, singing softly as she swayed back and forth. As I'm gawking at the roman art on the ceiling, Harry tells the hostess that we have a reservation with Bill Styles. My head snaps to him at the mention of the name. Bill. That must have been what Priscilla heard when she said Harry and Sharon were arguing. Why were they arguing over his father, though?

Harry leads me through the restaurant and to a private booth on the second floor, one that gives a view of the entire first floor. His father is speaking to the waiter and at first glance, I almost gasp at the resemblance between him and Harry. Bill is bald, but other than that, their dark green eyes were the same, sharp nose, chiseled jaw, stern eyebrows. It's no wonder who Harry gets that mean ass look from. The waiter is sent off presumably to fetch his drink, and when he sees us, his face twists into a large smile, standing his large body to his feet. He wore a navy blue suit, an apple watch on his left wrist. His was huge, standing over Harry meant that he had to be over six feet. Maybe 6'3? His body is built like a lumbermens, large arms, firm stomach, and a bushy beard.