ARROGANT | HS |

NINETEEN

Harry

"You got a haircut."

Murphy looks at me from her desk as I put my bag down, a smile that doesn't reach her eyes trying to convey she's not just as miserable as I am.

I nod before sitting down, a tight smile on my lips as I run my fingers through my trimmed hair. "Uh, yeah. Figured it was time to tame the curls before the charity gala."

I watch as she runs her fingers through her long, espresso colored waves as I curl my hands into fists in my lap — longing to feel the softness between my fingertips. Her fingers toy with the ends of her hair as she looks at me, chewing on her bottom lip. "I should cut mine too, it's been looking pretty bad recently."

No.

It looks perfect, just like you.

My thoughts haven't been anywhere but on Murphy for the last five days. Ever since I fell in Central Park I've done nothing but dream about her, think about her, want her.

"I think your hair looks fine the way it is." Moving my mouse to wake up my computer, I'm grateful to see a long list of tasks that I know will keep me busy for the majority of the day.

Murphy only hums in acknowledgement as the atmosphere around us turns hazy and devastatingly silent just like it has everyday since I came back into the office.

When I looked at her all I could feel was the way her fingers felt as they grazed across my spine, the way her lips tasted like strawberry candy, and the way her engagement ring felt heavy and wrong on her finger.

I would say that we ignored each other all day, but I think it's impossible to ignore someone like her. Plus, there isn't a chance in hell I could ignore the way my skin buzzed whenever she would look at me. From the corner of my eye I watched as she looked at me the same way I looked at her.

Like there wasn't anything else to see but each other.

The scratches on my side were just another reminder of what it felt like to have her undivided attention. That day in her apartment plays over and over again in my mind. For two people that used to hate each other, the tension in the room could have been cut into perfect slices. From where I stood facing the mirror, I could see the way her thick lashes fluttered against the apples of her cheeks and the way the crease between her brows deepened when the peroxide burned against the wounds that marred my skin.

When I felt her arms wrap around me it took all of the self control I had not to pull her in front of me, pin her to the counter with my hips, and kiss her like it was the only thing I wanted to do.

But instead, I let her rip my heart out by feeling her skin against mine while I told her that I wish she was mine. Telling her that I longed for her at the end of the day. Wishing that when I cleaned off the dishes from the dining table, she was the one waiting to kiss me in the kitchen, ready to help me clean up whatever mess we created together.

I told her I missed her.

And it was the truth.

Working from home those days was necessary to put that space back between us, to distance myself as much as possible. If I didn't there was no doubt that I would have done things in this office that would not be suitable for work.

Now that I've been back, my mind goes back and forth between wishing I never came back and wishing I'd never left.

"Are you excited for the gala tonight?" Murphy glances at me just long enough for the words to tumble from her lips.

I nod, keeping my answer short and sweet. "I am. Are you?."

"Alcohol is the only way to actually get through events, so I'm looking forward to the open bar." She stands with a stack of papers in her hands, her deep red dress hugging her hips as she makes her way toward my desk. "Usually I'd just eat the whole time but with Dav—"