Returning to work after Christmas break is, to put it simply, awful. Coupled with the lack of sleep I got the night before, the mere sight of my full inbox was enough to give me headache. If it weren't for the endless cups of coffee that were sent to my office, I don't think I'd be able to make it through today.
Which is why the first thing I do when I get home from work is pour my favourite red wine into a wine glass I found in the kitchen. I bring the glass as well as the bottle along with me into the living room, careful not to spill the wine onto the carpet and the couch. I have a feeling that Harry won't be quite too happy if he sees me spilling red wine on something he spends a lot of money on.
As I sip my wine and stare at the television, I'm aware of a glitch in my mood. I'd like to think that it's because I'm simply upset over the fact that Christmas is over and I have to get back to work, but I can't fool myself. Not when it's so obvious – to me especially – that it has everything to do with this bubble Harry and I have created, and I know it's only going to agitate me more the longer I leave it.
Everything seems so unsure and I'm unsettled all the time as fear often creeps under my skin, reminding me that this bubble would burst anytime soon. Once that happens, I know things are going to be extremely weird between us.
The problem is, I don't want things to get weird between us. Not again. I don't want to avoid him – which is a difficult task, truthfully, seeing that we live together – and I don't want us to pretend as though we're not at all attracted to each other. I don't want to pretend as if I don't like him because the more time I spend with him, the more I realise that he's not as bad as I make him out to be.
In fact, he's amazing.
And I hate myself for falling for his charm despite having told myself that I'm not one of those girls who'd fall for it.
The worst part is, I don't know what Harry feels about me. Sure, he's said he likes kissing me plenty of times, but that doesn't mean he likes me. And it sucks that I want those words to be true even when there is every possibility that it isn't.
"You're not watching the telly." Harry touches my nose. "Earth to Beverly."
"When did you get in?" I ask abruptly.
He chuckles, shaking his head. "You're so deep in your thoughts you didn't realise that I've been calling out your name?"
"I-Yeah, maybe," I admit sheepishly before I take another sip of my wine.
"How's your day?" He asks as he leans against the couch and tilts his head to look at me.
"It was alright," I tell him with a shrug.
He hums as though he doesn't believe my words. I wouldn't be surprised if he actually doesn't. "I wanted to come to your office and, uh, surprise you during lunch but there's a last minute meeting and I got held up."
He wanted to surprise me? Why would he want to do that? He has never done it before – why would he do it now? What's the occasion? So many questions fill my mind, but I don't voice out any of them. Instead, I pretend as though what he's just said doesn't bother me at all.
"Well, you surprised me by appearing out of nowhere," I tell him as I reach for the wine bottle and refill my glass. I offer the bottle to him, but he shakes his head. "How's your day?"
"Better now that I'm with you."
I'm so disarmed by his expression that I feel my doubts melting away immediately. He's looking at me with the most charming lopsided smile and twinkling eyes as though I'm the only person that matters, and for a moment, I trick myself into believing that maybe I'm not alone in this. Maybe he does feel the same way.
