Say that again; H.S.
“So how did your date turn out the other night?” Harry appears into my side view, still buttoning up his crisp, ironed-by-me chemise as he walks to stop beside me. I turn on my heel, bumping my hip into the marble countertop as I let a humourless chuckle flow past my lips.
“Disastrous. Catastrophic. I-never-ran-so-fast-in-my-life-short.” I laugh loudly, handing Harry the utensils for his dinner in a few hours. I pull on his shirt near his shoulder to straighten it before I lightly push at Harry’s chest to get him up and going – there wasn’t much time left.
“Couldn’t be that bad,” Harry starts off but pauses ever-so-subtle, “or can it?” he disappears from my view – hopefully to his large dinner table in his living room – elevating his voice so we could continue our conversation.
“Believe me. It really can be. Not that you ever experienced a hell like that.” Again, a chuckle passes my lips while I shake my head. A friend of Harry’s had set me up on this date and the male in question wasn’t that horrible, but our mind sets were so different I don’t think that could have ever worked out. I cut the date short after a comment that resembled ‘all women belong in the kitchen’ and sent the lad on his way.
“As if girls throwing them at my feet is something that’s so thrilling. Can’t even have a proper conversation like that. They only have one thing on their mind.” Harry appears back into my view to grab a few napkins on the edge of the table, already turning on his heel again.
“Not to start anything – but uh – you sound like a woman. All men are the same kinda shit? But reversed.” I stop my motions as an amused grin crawls onto my features, dropping the dessert spoons back on the marble and discarding them all together.
“I’m offended. You’re implying that I whine. I don’t whine, I complain that I can’t get laid.” Harry’s voice is still humorous as he ducks beside me to grab the dessert spoons off of the table, bumping his hip with mine to get me out of the way. “I still need glasses.”
“Harry come on, if you wanted loose sex, you’d have it in an instant.” I ignore his comment about the glasses but turn for the cabinet either way. Harry wasn’t someone you could just approach like you’d do while out clubbing, but that didn’t mean the boy couldn’t get lucky from time to time.
“I couldn’t even fix myself a proper date? Let alone find myself a one night stand. They don’t see me like that.” Harry mopes somewhere on the premises of his loft, but nowhere in my line of sight. I visibly roll my eyes – although he obviously can’t see that – all the while a scoff leaves my lips.
“Ah come on, Styles. You’re fuckable. Don’t complain.” I discard his nonsense almost directly. Sometimes I wonder if Harry realized how attractive he even was. He could come off as strong and confident but he was just as insecure as the rest of us – maybe even more than the rest of us.
“What did you just say?” Harry’s voice lowered, his movements stilling as his whole body turned in my direction. “I – never mind.” I mumble, feeling a blush creep onto my features from Harry’s intense stare. The confidence I had once possessed around had completely drained because of his whole aura, the demanding stare accompanied by that lopsided smirk of his.
“Say it again,” Harry demanded quietly, already making his way back up to me, a smile beginning to grow on his lips.
“You’re – well. Desirable. You damn well know that H.” I groan, not quite sure why he suddenly desired a confirmation of his good looks – let alone from me. I’m not sure how long it takes for any sound to pass between us. Harry had always been someone for a dramatic pause now and then.
“I didn’t know you thought about me that way, Y/n.” Harry’s smirk continues to grow as he discards the cutlery completely, slowly trailing towards his open kitchen, where I’m still gathering other utensils needed for Harry’s family dinner.
“I didn’t say I did. I was stating a well-known fact.” I awkwardly throw back at him, trying to maintain a grin of my own as I feel the ground underneath my feet heating rapidly.
“You sure?” He toys with me, his eyes twinkling underneath the dim lighting of his kitchen. He twirls around me, collecting the glasses I had gotten out of the cabinet one by one.
“Yeah…” I trail off, wondering to myself if I was indeed sure of my words. I keep my gaze trained on the expensive crystal instead of my best mate fluttering around me as if this wasn’t a conversation we weren’t supposed to have.
“Too bad.” I still in my movements, one of my hands curled around the stem of a wine glass as I balance my whole weight on my tippy toes. I try to speed-rake my mind about what intentions could have been behind those two simple, plain words, but come up rather empty-handed. Well, I was never someone who could rapidly come up with solutions anyway.
“Too – what? Why?” I come out of my trance, landing back onto my feet as I turn around, glass dangling in my hand which Harry happily plucks from between my fingers.
“I’d – I wouldn’t mind.” He winks and within a split second my cheeks are a fire-blazing red and my eyes are as wide as they can possibly get without popping.
I’m taking one step forward, towards Harry, but refrain from moving any further. I’m not sure if I’m reading his words as I’m supposed to, and I’m not ready to give into my urges if they are misplaced. Harry is a bit more confident than I am and closes the gap between us in just a matter of a few split seconds.
I’m pressed against the counter, my hands covering over Harry’s biceps as his own hands cup my face, keeping me in place. A little noise – what it was supposed to sound as, even I am not completely certain – leaves my lips and causes Harry to push himself even impossibly closer.
His hands wander, his lips staying locked with mine as my own mind seems to click. My hands rest on his firm biceps first, a few moments later letting them flow over his exposed arm towards his toned chest. I’m letting my fingers ghost up on his chest towards his neck when Harry’s hands cup my bum firmly, drawing a moan from my already parted lips.
“How much time do we still have?” Harry breathes against the skin of my neck. He technically forces me to open my eyes, which are immediately cast towards the clock on the far kitchen wall. “If we’re lucky, about forty-five minutes.”
“That’s all I need.” Harry chuckles as his arms snake around my body, hoisting me up into his arms. I just hope we’re not getting an unexpected visit.