Toxic (Harry Styles)

Chapter 9

During the meal, which isn't poisoned, actually it's quite good. Harry tries to make small talk to, I guess, keep from odd breaks and silences. Soon, we're finished and Harry takes my plate to the sink, and I'm on my second beer. The alcohol is making my petite body respond, and become fuzzy a bit faster than someone of normal stature.

Harry starts to wash the dishes when I get up out of my seat, into the kitchen and sit on the counter, watching him. It's obvious that Harry hardly washes dishes by hand. He does a dishwasher, but there is a sign saying "Out of Order" on it. If he keeps going at this rate, I'll be here longer than expected. I not sure how I feel about that. On one hand, I'm not completely comfortable with Harry still, especially in his house. On the other hand, Harry hasn't been that bad tonight. He hasn't made any advices on me, though he would make remarks at times, as to be anticipated. Other than that, this could be a semi-normal dinner.

An eternity later, Harry has finished cleaning one dish and moves to the next. I hop down from the counter, and walk to stand beside Harry at the sink. I shove his hands aside, taking hold of the plate, and pick up the rag.

"We'll be here forever at the pace you're going," I state. Harry's front is to my side now, closer than before to where there's no space between us. I keep my attention to the task at hand, and grab the pan he used to make the sauce in and clean that.

"Would that be so bad?"

I roll my eyes, and slowly move to the pot that still holds the extra noodles. "You know, usually at this time, some corny, movie scene would start with a water fight and laughs. But you know what doesn't ever happen, Harry?" I pick up the pot and turn backs to Harry who looked confused as to what I was pointing out. When I'm about a foot away from him─ he's leaning against the sink ─I abruptly dump the water and noodles on Harry's head.

"Ha," I laugh with no emotion, and reach for the towel to wipe off the bit of water that splashed on me. Harry's face was unreadable, standing there in a damp shirt and noodles in his hair. Without warning, and he moved so fast I couldn't see it coming, Harry crossed the foot between us and bent, throwing me over his shoulder. The blood rushes to my head quickly, and with the beer already in effect, this makes it worse.

The only rooms I've seen in Harry's house are the kitchen and living room. So when he easily runs up the stairs with me thrashing on his shoulder, I haven't the slightest clue where he's taking me. A door is pushed open with his empty hand, and I can see white walls. I can hear the turning of a faucet and water sputtering. I don't stop struggling as I'm sat down in freezing cold water. I squeal and grasp Harry's shirt, thinking it was better on his shoulder that being in the shower. Water from the shower head sprays down on me, and I'm drenched. Does every dinner have to end up with someone in soaked in water?

I look up to Harry, who's gotten rid of most of the noodles in his curly hair. I don't know if I'm dreaming or not, but I think Harry has a sly grin on his face like he was somewhat amused by the situation. I have to think of a plan, and quick. Glancing around, I swiftly reach up to grab the removable shower head before Harry even realizes what's happening, and points the water in his direction. He's taken off guard but quickly reacts with a counter plan.

He and I wrestle over the shower head for what seems like forever, but he's stronger than me by far and eventually wins, turning my plan against me. Harry does, though, have a tough time keeping his balance on the wet floor. Suddenly he trips and falls into porcelain tub, practically on top of me. The breathe is knock out of me when he lands, his forehead bumping into mine.

I comprehend the sound of the shower dropping as Harry's heavy breathe mixes with mine. My wet clothes are already uncomfortable, but with Harry laying on me with his own damp clothing, it makes it even more unpleasant. I look into his eyes that have darkened considerably since we were in the kitchen. I can't tell if he's mad or not, but at least he doesn't have the stupid smirk anymore.