Adore [H.S.]

58

"You're not fucked up Harry. As much as you think you are, you're not. I promise you that." I touch his cheek lightly. My fingers brushing over his prominent jawline. He leans his head into my touch. His eyes flutter shut. "Nothing you do will ever make me love you less."

His eyes open. The green of his irises darkened. "You're crazy."

"I know."

"But I guess I'm crazy too."

"I won't argue with you there." I smile. He shakes his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Harry kisses me once again. This time harder than before. The pent up tension that he had been harboring this whole drive being released through his lips. I pull back slightly but give him another few quick kisses. "Are you ready now?" I smile against his lips. He nods his head, pulling my hand into his.

"Yeah." He kisses my knuckle before unbuckling his seatbelt. I step out of the car, climbing over his body. Standing up, I straighten out my jean shorts and blouse. Adjusting the collar and making my shorts hadn't risen. I take my bag out of the trunk of the car and follow Harry up the steps.

He takes a breath before he rings the bell. A petite, young woman opens the door. Her eyes are a deep blue and her hair a dark brown. She wears a maids outfit, a broom in her hand. Could this be any more stereotypical?

"Hello," her voice is soft. Her eyes scanning over Harry and I before looking down. She pulls the door closer to her body. "May I help you?"

"Is Samantha home?" Harry asks. His tone is short. It is obvious that he was already losing a bit of his patience.

"Mrs. Beck is in the study. May I ask who you are?"

"I'm her son." Harry grunts. The maid blushes profusely.

"O-oh, I'm s-so sorry Mr. Breck. Beck. Mr. Beck," the poor thing stutters.

"It's Styles."

She looks away again. I began to feel sorry for the girl. It was clear that she wasn't aware of the family dynamics. It didn't help that Harry wasn't being kind. His usual rude demeanor resurfacing. "I- I'm," she coughs. "I'm sorry, sir. I er-I..."

"It's alright," I pipe in. She looks at me. Her cheeks reddened by embarrassment. I smile at her softly in which she returns half heartedly. "Could we come in?"

"Y-yes. Of course." She opens the door wider for us to step in. I squeeze Harry's arm in which he returns with a grunt. I roll my eyes. Not even bothering to make a comment. "I'm Izzy, by the way." I stretch my hand out. She looks at it wearingly before reaching her own hand out, shaking it.

"Denise." She shakes my hand. I cringe mentally at her sweaty palms. My mild OCD breaking out the hand sanitizer and blanketing my hand with it. "Nice to meet you Miss. Styles. Your mother-"

"Oh, no." I laugh lightly. "She's not my mother." You would think she'd figure that out since I clearly had an American accent. I let it slide. Her nerves probably getting the best of her. "I'm grumpy pants over there's girlfriend."

"I- oh. I'm sorry. God, I'm so embarrassed." She shakes her head. Covering her red tinted face in her hands. I pat her back softly.

"It's alright. He can be scary." I motion towards Harry who is halfway across the foyer and towards the study.

"I'm new. Mrs. Beck is lovely but Mr. Beck is frightening. I've never been more glad to see him gone for the week. He's awfully tall and always seems put off and angry. I'm -" she gasps. Covering her lips. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't talk about them like this. They're my employers. Geez, I don't know what's the matter with me. Reckon I should be fired is what."