No Matter What // Harry Styles AU -- Dunkirk inspired

Chapter Thirty Two

My eyes go wide as my stomach drops to the floor.

Holy smokes- This is Harry's stepfather.

The man turns towards me, and with a little nod adds, "And good evening to you as well Miss."

"Hello," I nervously chirp, rubbing my arm awkwardly. I feel as if my body's been turned to cold stone.

"So what exactly are you two up to out here?" he smiles, clearly aware of our misdeeds.

"Nothing," Harry quickly replies, shifting his weight between his feet.

"Is that so?" Harry's step-dad replies. The man is a bit round in the face, pleasantly so, his nose a bit wider than Harry's and his eyes a softer, less almond shaped. From Harry's embarrassment and sudden nerves, I can tell this is the man he really considers to be his father though.

"I mean," Harry coughs while looking at his shoes. He tucks his hands into his pockets as he seems to strategize, and I almost giggle at how cute he is when he's flustered. "Well, you see, we were just walking back home."

Harry's step-dad narrows his eyes at us and I swear he can practically smell the sin on us. He doesn't yell at us though, and instead just lets go of a big breath and waves us toward him. 

"Well why don't I just take you two the rest of the way then?"

Harry looks over at me, before nodding, "Um, yea, okay." 

Taking my hand in his, we walk in front of the green truck, and over to the opposite side door.

"You," he points at Harry with a laugh and then to the flatbed of the truck, "back there."

"I know, I know!" Harry calls back, rolling his eyes when his back's turned. A small laugh escapes my lips. I like seeing Harry interact with his step-dad. It's a new side to him, and I'm addicted to knowing more. 

"Don't worry about a thing. He's good," he says quietly with a smile, opening the door for me.

I smile and nod nervously. I wanted to meet Harry's parents, but not when the thought of ripping their son's clothes off was so fresh in my head.

"Come on in, child," Harry's step-dad says gently, waving me in. I hop up quickly, but before I can turn to say something to Harry, the door is wailing a rusty creak as he shuts me in. In the review mirror, I watch, chuckling even, as Harry's lean legs swing into the back of the truck.

"He's a bit of a gangly thing isn't he," he laughs. I chuckle lightly and smile back at him, quite liking the rosy warmth of his laughter. He pauses for a moment staring at me, before jutting out his hand, "Robin."

"Hazel Chapman," I reply shaking his hand.

"An American gal?" he asks, putting the truck into drive.

"'Fraid so," I laugh lightly while staring at my hands. The truck moves quickly down the road hitting just a few bumps. I look back in the review mirror to see how Harry is, but I can only make out his long legs, crossed over each other.

"If you don't mind my asking," Robin interjects, "how does an American lady find herself in this part of the world?"

"My grandparents live here," I offer up. "I'm here to help out a bit." He smiles politely at my response, but turns back to the road.

"Lovely thing for a gal to do," he says, stroking his greying beard as his one hand steers the car. Robin nods politely, agreeing with himself, and keeping his eyes on the road. 

A concerning silence falls on us as I struggle to come up with something to talk about. I don't understand how my mind seems to just run blanks when I meet new people, but it happens every time. However, my hatred of awkward silence always wins out, for better or for worse.