fight for control ↠ harry styles [b1] ✓

CHAPTER 29

Since there was no way the bickering would end any time soon, I decided to go for another shower quick and change into some comfy clothes. When I was done, Kensington was no longer in the room. With furrowed brows, I looked around just to come to terms with the fact that she was out on the balcony. She had the hotel dressing gown on and her back facing me. She was on the phone again to someone so I decided not to bother her. The bed was unmade and full of shit so once I moved everything to the side, I fluffed it up a bit. Through this, I couldn't keep my mind off of the waffles she never even finished. It's like she didn't even touch it other than that little bit she had before I left.

I got in bed with a sigh, my arm reached for the remote control and I turned on the telly. It was most likely only going to have French channels on it but I guess my knowledge was basic enough to understand somewhat of it. At least that's what I thought until they began to chat and I just stared at the screen in total confusion. I swear I was really good at French in secondary and I did really well in my GCSE exam as well but I guess that knowledge was fuck all when it came to the real world.

I ended up turning it off in the end and pulled my laptop on my lap. Kensington was still out so I decided to click through my emails and stuff, see what was happening back home. It was around home-time for my employees so I just wanted to see if my assistants emailed me anything at all.

Since I faced the glass doors that led to the balcony, I had a clear view of Kensington making her way back in from the corner of my eye. She pulled the door open with a big sigh and then she climbed in the bed until she was under the covers. She was on her back, her phone sat on her stomach as she kept it up with her fingers.

"What's up?" I mumbled as I began to reply to Charlotte. It was late, sure, but at least I got it out of the way.

"Family stuff... doesn't matter," she told me. "How was the meeting? Successful?"

"Yeah... yeah, it was nice," I nodded. "Have the next two days off to explore and then I need to attend another meeting in London."

"That's fun," she told me. "I actually know no places here in Paris so you'll have to show me around."

"Oh, trust me, I will," I grinned to myself as I signed off the email and sent it. "So, you wanna tell me about your eating habits?"

"Um... excuse me?"

"It's just... do you like- I don't know. Is it too straight forward to ask someone if they have any issues with eating?"

"What are you trying to get me to say?"

"The truth, mainly."

"I wouldn't say I have a problem with eating," she said after a little bit of silence. Her answer was something I expected. Of course, she would say that. "I eat when I'm hungry so that's good, isn't it?"

"How often do you get hungry?"

"I don't know... I thought I was when I ordered you food but I couldn't stomach it. Why are you asking me this, anyway? You're always so worried about me, I don't get it."

"You just... you just seemed to have lost weight over the years. I don't know. Maybe that is your goal. I'm not sure," I said sheepishly. This felt like such a sensitive topic for both of us. She still didn't really trust me and that was why she didn't open up to me fully and as for me, I just wasn't sure how much I could ask because I certainly did not wish to pry.

"The only reason I have for not eating a lot, is work. It really does consume my everyday life and I don't really have a problem with it. I eat when I need to or feel like doing so. I have always skipped meals, I guess it's just something that stayed with me."