Infatuated (hsau)

chapter 13.

Clap, clap, clap.

It scared the shit out of me, had me turning round at the speed of light only to be faced with a pale, tired looking Harry smugly grinning at me. I could feel my cheeks redden and I felt like I was about to go into cardiac arrest until Willow nudged her head against my leg.

How long has he been standing there and why is he always trying to give me heart failure?

"I didn't mean to wake you, sorry." I nervously say, suddenly feeling extremely insecure.

My hair is thrown in a very messy ponytail, I'm in shorts and an old t-shirt, I haven't slept so the bags under my eyes could carry a whole two weeks holiday worth of clothes and I'm wearing my glasses instead of contacts. This is a sight only the cat gets to see, not the man I'm in a fake fucking relationship with.

"You didn't." He states firmly. "You play piano?"

Did he actually just ask that?

"No that was fake," I say sarcastically.

Apparently sleep deprivation takes away my ability to think before I speak, because that came out way harsher than I expected and now I feel bad.

"Sleep well did you?" Jokes Harry as he leans himself against the wall with crossed arms, raising his brows as the sarcasm coated his words.

Think. Don't talk yet, think.

Be nice.

"You want something? A coffee or tea? Water?" I ask him, standing up from the piano bench to wander to the kitchen, Harry's shadow following behind me.

The one thing keeping me somewhat calm right now is the fact the sun is shining through the windows and giving the place that comforting golden tint. It makes me happy, the sunflowers on the kitchen island, Willow sunbathing on the window sill and then there's me looking like I've been dragged through a bush backwards with Harry standing behind me.

He's definitely judging me and that fills me with anxiety. I came down for a coffee to waken up, I was going to change and get ready but I decided to play piano and now I'm face to face with the enemy looking like shit. Maybe it's not even my anxiety making me feel sick, maybe it's just my reflection.

I wish I was mentally stable enough to not care about these things because I shouldn't care what Harry thinks of me, I don't want to care about what Harry thinks about me but I just can't help it.

"You have any painkillers? Banging headache." He chuckles, squinting his eyes the minute the sun hit them.

Green eyes in the light are so beautiful.

Shit. Not harrys eyes in particular, just green eyes in general.

I reach into the medical cupboard and toss Harry a pack of paracetamol, followed by a glass of water because those tablets are too big to swallow whole and I draw the line at having to resuscitate him because he choked. Much to my surprise though, he did attempt throw two back without water however clearly failing and eventually washing them down with a big gulp of water.

"I bet you can't name me three Rolling Stones songs" States Harry, eyes falling down to my t-shirt as he silently judges me.

Great so he's one of those guys.

Luckily for him I do actually like The Rolling Stones but even if I didn't, if it's a cool top I'm gonna wear it, why does it matter?

"Black Limousine, Wild Horses, Jiving Sister Fanny, Bye Bye Johnny... you want me to list you their whole discography so I have the rights to wear this t-shirt or what?"