Dirty Dishes (A Harry Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 9: Tubthumping

(Tubthumping is by Chumbawamba)

Erin's POV:

            I woke up wondering why I had to be involved in the boy’s meeting. I was M.I.A. all day yesterday so what could I have possibly done wrong. Regardless, I dragged myself out of bed an hour early. I brushed my teeth and splashed my face with water. I decided sweats with a loose tee shirt would do, until I changed into the uniform of whatever job I would tackle for the day. I pulled my hideous bed head back into a slightly less hideous pony tail. I looked as tired as Allen normally did, so I could only imagine what he was looking like this fair morning. I considered makeup, but was not feeling like conversing with guests too much, and if I left my face naked Greta would have me do the behind the scenes work.

           I squinted as I stepped into the hall, since I was getting ready in pretty much complete darkness the light was a shock. I was greeted by Allen’s sass, “don’t you look like a ray of sunshine!”

            “Maybe, I’ll look like one when there is a couple in the sky,” I was not appreciating his comments that early in the morning.

            “I don’t want to hear excuses missy.”

            “Speaking of excuses what’s yours? You are literally hurting my eyes.” My eyes were starting to water. Maybe not from Allen’s knotted hair, or wrinkled clothing; but they were watering nonetheless.

            “If you’d stop checking me out that wouldn’t be a problem.”

                “Well you’re just such a charmer. I can’t keep my hands off of you,” I smiled as I said it, but slapped him pretty hard in the back. I normally held my cool, but when I was sleep deprived my judgment was seriously flawed. Allen deserved a little slapping around anyway, but he decided to head down without me clearly feeling the pain.

            “If it’s any consolation I think you look better than ever,” I just realized that Robert was standing behind me.

            “I’m pretty sure that’s an insult, but it’s the thought that counts, so thanks,” I was still half asleep.

            “I just mean sleepy eyes, messy hair and rosy pillow flattened cheeks look good on you,” he seemed nervous, like he thought he insulted me.

            “How about the oversized pants and worn out tee shirt,” I asked spinning around to help him get a better look.

            “Sexy,” he licked his lips as he looked me up and down playfully. I knew it was a joke but it made my apparently rosy pillow flattened cheeks even rosier.

            How did he do that? How did he know exactly what I was hoping would happen? My entire life I joked with everyone I met. I understood that they were not the typical jokes and most of the time only made sense in my messed up head. Eventually they would get it and would humor my idiotic attempts at humor, but not Robert. He seemed to get it and without a flinch responded better than I could have even thought up. Somehow I didn’t think that he was humoring me either, maybe just maybe he actually found me amusing.

            “Speaking of sexy, did you even sleep? There is no way you got up any time recently and look like that,” I stared as his attentive eyes. I could tell they had to be awake for at least two hours. That or he was the devil, which was honestly the conclusion I was leaning toward at the moment. Somehow I loathed him with my entire being, but couldn’t keep my eyes off of him.

            “I may look put together on the outside, but trust me I’m dying of sleep deprivation on the inside.”

            “I hate you,” I simply stated walking to the elevator.