A/N: Re-Write has officially ended!!!!! Enjoy the new material loves!!!!
Cassie’s POV:
Harry didn’t slow until we reached the entrance to an upscale complex right in the heart of downtown London. Pushing through the lobby doors, he headed strait for the elevators, punching the button for the top floor. I looked to him questioningly but his eyes were dark, focusing on the stainless steel elevator doors. He didn’t hesitate when they opened, pulling me through, stopping in front of the flat at the end of the hall. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, placing his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through. Carelessly, he flicked on the lights, heading immediately to the back recesses of the flat, leaving me alone in the entryway.
“Okay,” I huffed, blowing a lock of hair out of my face, “I’ll just make myself at home them!” I called, sarcasm evident in my tone. Has he seriously never had company over? If I treated ever treated a guest like this my mother would kill me.
Rolling my eyes, I kicked my shoes off before curling up on the couch I had been asleep on yesterday, picking up the TV remote and flicking through the channels. Several minutes later, I jumped at the sound of him clearing his throat. I turned to find him shirtless, casually leaning up against the open doorway, towel in hand.
“I’m going to jump in the shower,” He announced, turning to walk back into the master bedroom.
“Oh hey, don’t mind me,” I snorted, glaring at his receding back.
“You can join me if you’d like,” He chuckled, darting me a lustful glance over his shoulder, “Save water and all that?”
“I’ve never bought into the whole ‘global warming’ trash,” I called after him, reverting my attention to the news story. It was a repeat from last night only now there were pictures and video clips that the station had taken from Twitter.
“Jesus Christ,” I hissed, watching in horror as a girl’s phone caught the moment I was assaulted. It was hard to tell if the fan had done it on purpose or if she was trying to get to Harry, either way my cheek still stung from the gashes her nails left behind.
“Still no word from the One Direction Singer confirming or denying a relationship between him and his new mystery girl,” The reporter summed up, her thick scottish accent distorting the words.
“We’re not in a relationship,” I groaned, punching the button to change the channel. Just then my stomach rumbled, reprimanding me. I hadn’t really eaten anything all day other than a bit of popcorn at the movie theater and my coffee this morning. My gaze darted longingly to the kitchen while I remained on the couch, listening to the quiet hum of the the shower in the master bedroom. I swore I could hear him singing along to whatever song he had set to play.
“Well, he did say to make myself at home,” I grinned, taking his earlier silence as permission enough. Jumping up from the couch, I bounded into the sleek kitchen. The appliances all looked brand new, making it obvious that he’d probably never even bothered to try eating in. Typical boy.
Opening all the cupboards, I ransacked his kitchen, searching for the proper ingredients. Measuring out the flower into a stainless steel bowl he’s stored under the marble countertops, I began to slowly count out the cups necessary of the white power.
I jumped, nearly spilling flour everywhere as a loud banging suddenly emanated from Harry’s front door. After rinsing my hands in the industrial grade sink, I padded over to the door, unlatching it, peering up at the blonde haired boy waiting beyond.
“Haz-... uh, I’m sorry...” the blonde boy stuttered, his face flushing a deep red as he stared down at me with confusion bright in his blue eyes, “Is, uh, Harry here?” He asked though a thick irish accent, peering around me to search the den.
“In the shower,” I groaned, throwing the door wide open, an invitation, before walking back to the kitchen. I didn’t care if it was rude inviting whoever this guy was in while Harry was busy, it was his fault for leaving me in here alone. Heavy footsteps followed me, stopping on the other side of the bar. I eyes him over the measuring cup, dumping the correct amount of flower into a pasta strainer, sifting it into the bowl.
“I’m Niall,” He laughed nervously, extending one large hand out towards me. I accepted it, giving it a light shake.
“Cassie. He should be out soon,” I conceded, rolling my eyes a bit, causing Niall to chuckle.
“So... the stories are true then,” he mused. I looked up to see him waggling his eyebrows at me suggestively.
“What stories?” I laughed, reverting my gaze to the counter full of ingredients before me, adding baking soda and sugar to the bowl.
“Haz’s new ‘mystery girl’.” He made air quotes as he spoke the word and I grinned at him.
“I’m not Harry’s new anything.”
“Then why are you here?” He asked, genuine confusion lighting his baby face.
“I was kidnapped,” I shrugged, adding eggs, butter, and milk.
“Ah, I see, so that’s why you’re making me dinner?”
“Who said anything about making you dinner?” I laughed, pulling my long hair back into a ponytail.
“Well I’m here, you’re here, and I know that a tiny girl like you can’t possibly eat all of that,” he mumbled, staring longingly at the bowl of sticky white batter.
“A bit condescending, aren’t we?” I joked, turning from him to heat the skillet.
“No, no, no!” He exclaimed, coming to peer over my shoulder while I spooned the batter onto the sizzling pan, “I just... you’re just... I’m hungry,” He whined, ducking his head, pouting.
“Okay, okay, you can have some,” I laughed, ruffling his messy blonde hair. Five minutes later Niall salivated over a towering plate of golden pancakes while I searched the refrigerator for toppings.
“Okay, Lucky-,”
“Lucky?” He asked interrupting me.
“Yes Lucky, we ha-,”
“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” He grumbled, “Hey look! It’s a leprechaun! Very original.”
“Can I finish?” I laughed, ignoring his whining. He ducked his head and I took that as my cue to continue, “As I was saying, we have strawberries, whipped cream, chocolate chips, and... what are these? blueberry preserves?” I asked, holding the jar up for him to see. He nodded vigorously.
“Okay, pick your poison,” I said, turning to grab two more plates out of the cupboard.
“Wo b nessary,” his words came out distorted and I turned to see him smile at me, a half eaten pancake hanging between a set of pearly white teeth.
“At least give me one!” He searched the plate, shuffling through the spongy circles until he found one he decided that he could live without. It was nearly half the size of the others.
“Wow, your generosity astounds me,” I chuckled, spooning out a dollop of whipped cream, topping it with chopped strawberries. His face fell and he reached for another, larger one.
“No, it was a joke!” I laughed, pushing his hand away, “I’m not that hungry I swear!”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” He blushed, staring down at the mound of food, “None of the other boys cook for me anymore, they say it’s too much work,” He jutted out his bottom lip, pouting as he shoveled forkful after forkful into his mouth.
“I can see why,” In a matter of minutes he decimated the entire stack, sticking his plate out towards me, ready for more.
“Niall, that’s all we made!” I laughed, cutting of a piece of my still unfinished pancake.
“Well we can make more though right?”
“We will see,” I shook my head at him, swallowing the bite.
“Hey, you’ve got a little,” Niall motioned towards his nose, my eyes widened and I wiped the back of my hand across the indicated area.
“Where?”
“There!” He insisted, pointing at a different spot.
“Niall,” I complained, “Where is it?”
“Right...” He hummed, scooping a glob of whipped cream up onto his fingertip, “there.” He wiped the white fluff down the bridge of my nose, grinning like a madman.
“Ha, ha,” I laughed, “very funny.”
“I thought it was. Now hurry up! I’m still hungry!” Rolling my eyes, I got to my feet and carried our plates back to the kitchen, washing my hands again before starting on the second batch.
“You’re helping me this time,” I teased, shoving the flour and sifter into his hands. His ears turned a deep shade of crimson as he blushed at his implied guilt. With my instructions he successfully measured out the necessary amount, only spilling once. Laughing he flicked flour all over me. I coughed as it exploded into the air. Turning to face the reflective mirror hanging on a wall in the entry way I saw that he had managed to get flour all over me. It dusted my hair, turning it a a light shade of grey, powering my cheeks and nose, sitting like snow on my eyelashes.
“Really,” I asked, cocking my hands on my hips, “you’re such a child.”
“Part of my charm,” he shrugged, dropping a glob of whipped cream into his mouth before reaching for the sugar.
“Okay, move,” I laughed, pushing him to the side as he spilled half a cup into the bowl. He moved to stand behind me, reaching for the eggs. My cheeks flushed as his arms wrapped around either side of me, cracking the eggs one by one into the bowl.
“What the hell?” A deep voice growled, I jolted, the measuring cup slipping from my grasp and falling into the metal bowl. In unison, both Niall and I whipped around, jumping apart.
“Get out.” Fury obvious in his tone as he stalked up to Niall, gripping the frightened boy by the collar, and dragging him towards the door.
“Look Haz, I came looking for you but you were busy and I was hungry...” Niall tried as Harry threw him out into the hall, “Nothing happened- I mean I would nev-!” Harry didn’t even let him finish, he slammed the door shut in his friends face.
“What the fuck Harry!” I yelled, stomping towards him.
“You’re mine.”
“Oh fuck no. You are not pulling that shit again! We were making pancakes! What is so goddamn bad about making fucking pancakes?” I felt my face turn red as I raged at him. He glared at me, forest eyes dark as night.
“He had his arms around you.”
“Okay so he was flirting with me! What’s so bad about that?”
“You’re. Mine.” His voice was husky as he took my face firmly between his hands, squeezing slightly to emphasize his point.
“No, I’m not! I don’t belong to anyone! Why are you so damn possessive?”
“Why are you so damn stubborn?”
“Gah!” I shook him him off, retreating to the kitchen, where I began to randomly through the ingredients back into cupboards, not caring if they were in the right places.
“What would you do if you saw your girlfriend with your best mate?” He raked his hands through his hair, kicking the bottom of one of the bar stools.
“That’s just it! He is your best friend! Shouldn’t you trust your best friend a little more?” I yelled back, throwing the dirty dishes into the sink, blasting the water.
A grin quirked his lips, “You didn’t deny it.”
“Deny what?” I huffed, focusing all of my energy on scrubbing the plates clean.
“That you’re my girlfriend.” I balked, freezing as the hot water washed down over my hands. I hadn’t denied it; in fact, I honestly hadn’t even noticed. Drying my hands off, I ignored him and his accusation, stalking from the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” He called after me.
“To take a shower because some asshat locked me out of my flat!” I yelled back to him, slamming the door to the master bedroom closed behind me.
Cranking the controls into full blast I stepped out of the walk in shower, stripping down as hot steam filled the entire room.Who the hell did he think he was? I could talk to and flirt with whoever I wanted.
Balling my hands into fists, I stepped back into the hot water, allowing it to wash over me, relaxing my muscles. I made sure to take as long as possible reveling in the warmth for the good part of an hour. A small black towel was folded up, waiting for me on the edge of the vanity when I finally emerged. The water must have kept me from hearing him come in.
As soon as I unfolded the fabric though, I knew why he’d chosen it. It was maybe half the size of a normal towel.
“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” Wrapping the tiny strip of fabric around me as best as I could, I padded towards the door, my long hair dripping down my back.
“So what,” I asked, ripping the french doors open, knowing that he would be waiting for me on the other side, “You don’t own any towels larger than washrags?”
“Nope,” He grinned at me, popping the ‘p’, “Well I men yes, but none that I’d rather see you in.” I flushed as his gaze raked over me, settling on the barely covered curve of my ass.
“Here, put these on,” He tossed a wad of clothing at me and I did my best to catch it with one hand, the other busy holding onto the ridiculous excuse for a towel. Black boxers fell to the ground and I dropped to the ground as quickly as possible, doing my best to keep myself covered as I scooped the fabric up off the wood flooring.
“There is no way I’m wearing these,” I sneered, tossing them back to him. He caught them before the hit him in the face.
“Fine, we can both sleep nude. I was kind of hoping it would go this route anyway,” He rasped, winking at me, toying with the waistband of the shorts. Heat stained my cheeks and I stumbled over my tongue, fighting for a response.
“No-No way. That is never going to happen.”
“Never say never,” He singsonged, grinning at me.
“Only in your dreams, Styles,” I huffed turning on my heel and marching back toward the bathroom. Fine, I’d just put my clothes back on, sleeping in my jeans for one night wouldn’t be that bad... right?
“Quit being such a baby,” He chuckled, catching hold of my waist, yanking me up against him. I almost lost my grip on my towel as I elbowed him hard in the chest, I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me.
“Just put them on,” He pleaded, holding the black shorts out for me to take. Rolling my eyes, I snatched them out of the air, shutting the bathroom doors firmly behind me, turning the lock. When I opened the door seconds later he was still there, waiting for me.
He ran his tongue over his lips, nodding at me appreciatively, “You look good in my clothes,” a wicked grin curving his mouth.
“Save it, Styles,” I countered, yanking my fingers through my dripping hair, doing my best to resolve some of the bigger tangles.
“Angel,” He cooed, coming up behind me, resting his head in the crook of my neck.
“Get off of me,” I shrugged, doing my best to displace him. He held on.
“Come to bed.”
“Nope, I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“No you’re not.”
“Try and stop me,” I spun in his arms, glaring at him as I shoved hard against his chest; he didn’t move.
“Get in the bed,” His voice took on a harder edge, more commanding.
“No.”
“Angel.”
“I’m not going to bed with you, Styles.”
“You don’t have a choice.” With that he scooped me up into his arms, locking down my libs to keep me from struggling. He literally climbed into bed with me, trapping my back against his chest.
“I’m going to kill you,” I muttered into the pillow.
“You can try,” He chuckled, the deep vibrations shaking me as he pressed soft but insistent kisses against the skin of my neck and across my shoulder.
A/N: Well that didn't take nearly as long as I thought that it would...
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-Elle