𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐑! | harry styles

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈

ANNE moved absentmindedly about the house, tidying up already tidy rooms while she waited for Desmond to finish his Sunday night rounds at the hospital and return to his family. An educated, once-world-traveler, Anne found it comical that of all her life experiences, she enjoyed the domestication of her life the best. In college, Anne would have thought daft any person who tried to tell her that she'd give up her jet setting lifestyle for an apron and the title of 'mommy'. But as she picked up one of Maddie's dolls from the living room floor, Anne felt fulfilled, without a doubt, by who she was and what she did.

A stirring from Harry's bedroom brought to the forefront of her mind the afternoon she had spent with him and Bree. Harry had insisted upon accompanying her to lunch with Bree. Anne didn't pass up an opportunity to spend time with Harry, but she wasn't delusional enough to believe that her presence had anything to do with his request. As of late, Harry couldn't seem to get enough of Bree Hanson.

That notion both thrilled and concerned Anne. Over the course of lunch, Anne learned a lot about Bree, more from her observations than what Bree actually said. And she didn't say much. Verbally, Bree revealed what the entire town of Lockridge Falls already knew: that she lived only with her father, the former Chief of the Lockridge Falls police department. She also had no qualms about expressing her hobbies of reading and cooking, with an occasional dabble into photography.

However, it was the non-verbal disclosures that peaked Anne's concern. The most obvious fact, that Bree lived only with her father, meant that Bree lacked the daily influence of a mother figure in her life - and also the very watchful eyes of one. A girl could get away with a lot when she had a quasi-absent father who thought nothing of going away on a weekend fishing trip while leaving his young adult daughter home unattended.

But perhaps the most glaring red flag of all was how Bree and Harry interacted with one another. On the surface, any mother would be pleased to have such a well-mannered, docile girlfriend for their wild and directionless son. But Anne knew her son and she knew how long Bree had been in his life...but to watch the two of them together, one would guess that they'd been acquainted with one another for years instead of months. And of those months, it had been only mere days since their relationship took on less of a covert tone, and more of an obvious one.

What was obvious, however, was that the two teens sitting before Anne had bypassed the awkward squeamishness of a new relationship and had plunged head first into a symbiotic symphony of oneness. The way they moved around one another with flawless grace; the way they looked at one another in silent communication, as if they possessed their own language; and their touches - soft fingertips brushing the back of a hand or the cusp of a shoulder; it was all sweet and sensual at the same time. Anne felt like an intruder.

It was for this very reason that Anne felt the need to wait up for her husband.

It had been a long day and exhausted didn't even begin to cover the way Desmond felt as he made the short journey from the garage to the mudroom of the house. Anne must have heard him pull up, for she was in the mudroom waiting for him with a glass of iced tea. He could tell by the look on her face that she wanted something. Still, he humored her with small talk until she finally got around to letting him know what was really on her mind.

"I had lunch with Harry and Bree today," she began cryptically.

"Oh yeah? How'd that go?" Desmond asked with genuine interest.

"It was good. Bree is a very sweet girl," Anne hedged.

"She is," Desmond agreed. "And I can't pretend not to be relieved by the calming effect she's had on him. He hasn't hardly been in any trouble since she came on the scene."