He's Inevitable || N.H.

T H I R T Y - T W O

If I have nervous ticks, I am most certainly hyper-aware of them now. I could feel my hands shake as I tried to brush my hair in front of the mirror, my knees were nervously bouncing up against my dresser, and for some reason, I could feel my left eye pulsating at an alarmingly fast pace.

"Ems?" The brush drops from my hands at the sudden sound of mum's voice and she looks at me a bit surprised, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine. I'm fine."

"Uhuh. Well. You're Uncle Louis will be here soon..." She reaches for the brush and places it in my shaking hand. "What's wrong with you? You're shaking worse than a leaf!"

"No...Nothing."

"Emma?"

"I said nothing." I try to will myself from shaking, trying to brush my hair normally to prove to her that I was indeed fine.

She sits down upon my bed, making eye contact through my mirror. She looked tired, unusual for mum. Her blonde hair was in loose waves to her shoulders, her face cherub like even at forty. There were slight bags under her sapphire eyes, her lips a bright pink from biting on them nervously. She look beautifully exhausted, how ironic.

"How are things with...Niall?" She tries not to look disgusted when she says it, but the tone in her voice and the slight curling of her lip showed her dismay.

I focus on my hair, brushing in a deliberately slow . I could see my face flushing a violent red and know that mum is still watching me intently.

"Ems?" She says, obviously trying to get me to speak. "How are things with...him." She says in a sigh.

I know she wanted to try. She wanted to get over the fact that he was my uncle, that he was sixteen years older than me. She was trying. She was trying really fucking hard, because she loved me and she knew that I was happy. But that didn't necessarily mean that she would enjoy trying to understand the fact that someone her own age was dating her step-daughter.

"They are...good."

"...Great. He's...treating you...right?"

"Yeah."

"You haven't..." She moves her hands nervously trying to say the words without actually having to utter them in a sentence.

"No! God, No!"

"I'm just asking, Ems. You know this isn't easy for me either." She looks away for the first time, nervously looking at her chipped nail polish. "I don't know what to say."

"I've been hearing a lot of that lately..."

"Well, love. You're putting us in a bit of bind."

"Hey, if I remember correctly you said that 'maybe it's my fault since I encourage you'." I respond, making my voice a notch higher to match hers.

"Yes, I know I said that."

"And?"

"Emma. I just don't know, alright? This is just a huge bloody mess, and even though I'm the adult I have no idea what I'm supposed to do."

"Why?"

"Because..." She huffs, "I know you consider me to be your mum, darling. But I'm not. Harry is your dad, I'm your step-mum. Ultimately, as frustrated as I feel, and as much as I care, your dad's not going to sit around and try to accept it the way I'm trying to. You know he's...he's going to blame me too."

"Mum, just because you're not my biological mother doesn't mean you love me any less."

"Yes...but...in these types of situations it feels like...maybe I don't have the right to tell you want to do."