Good Intentions| Editing

Four

-edited-

Currently, I was walking centimeter by centimeter on the ice trying not to slip. My landlord doesn't know kindness and doesn't know how to salt a sidewalk. She was such a bitch.

I lift my foot to take another step just as I hear, "You need ice skates knowing your clumsy ass."

The voice  startles me so much that I fall down like the London Bridge, landing right on my ass.

"Ow," I say sitting up. "What the hell? Are you following me?"

Harry walks toward me, holding out his hand with his annoying smirk on his face. "Yes actually. You looked distraught at the office. So I came to see what was wrong."

"How kind of you," I mumble sarcastically standing up. I feel my ass wet, so I look and see a big wet spot on the bottom of my dress. Gal darn it. "But I'm a big girl. I don't need you looking after me."

"I'd say otherwise. You can't even walk without help," Harry contradicts, following me into my apartment complex. He looked awfully sexy in his black coat and windswept hair. Not to mention that the moonlight was dancing across his skin in the most perfect way.

What an asshat.

I fumble with my keys when trying to open the door. He was hovering right over my shoulder, watching my every move. It was nerve wracking knowing you were being analyzed, especially by your hot boss. Opening my apartment door, I turn to him before he can enter. "Look Mr. Styles just let me be. Let's leave us interacting to the office, not my apartment."

"Well it's already at your apartment. So there's no stopping now. And I told you to call me Harry. Why can't you listen?" And he barges in past me.

He looks around and goes to my fish tank while I head to get some ice for soon to be bruised ass.

"Nice fish," He says leaning down and tapping the glass like some child. He then turns to me at the wrong time. I was leaning my head against the counter with an ice pack on my left ass cheek. I feel my face flush with embarrassment. "Got anything to drink?"

Harry walks up behind me trying to squeeze himself between me and my kitchen island wanting to get in the fridge. And in the process, he runs his crotch right against my ass. Damn he's big, I think my face getting even redder. I have the urge to push back against him but I stop myself. I wonder how he would feel in my-

I stop myself from going any farther. This meeting or whatever it you would call it was strictly professional. Closing my eyes, I huff. I just had to get on his nice side and then everything would be fine. He wouldn't fire me for acting out, or punish me for back talking. It would all be okay. I hope.

Harry opens the fridge and peers into it before pulling something out. "Good you have wine."

He rummages through my cabinets until he finds two glasses then pours the drinks. After tasting it, he pulls back and says with a sour look on his face, "This is not wine Arabella." Well duh, didn't you read the label?

"Nope. Welch's Sparkling Grape Juice," I say gladly accepting my glass and taking a sip.

He looks at me with his mouth agape and his eyebrows furrowed. His face just screams confusion. 

"I can't hold my liquor worth shit. I literally get trashed on two glasses. So what's the point of drinking if you're just gonna get trashed and make bad choices? I just don't see the point in it."

"Some people drink because they want to feel something." He says quirking up an eyebrow and leaning on the island across from me.

"Or to not feel anything." I quickly counter.