"Ellie!" Harry's harsh voice sounded from down the hall. I looked up and he was walking swiftly towards me. He had another beef with me, just great.
"May I help you?" I asked with a combination of politeness and sarcasm.
"I put those orders in for a CT scan on Mrs. Costanzo three hours ago! What is taking so long?"
I looked at him, remaining calm, smiling peacefully and said, "Doctor, we've discussed this. I can't make the radiology department move any faster. They're always booked. Unless you want me to run out right now and get another degree in radiology, you'll have to wait like the rest of us."
I could see him holding back a smirk. "Very well, Elloise," he said, teasing me with my full name just this once. "Just don't let it happen again."
I just rolled my eyes and laughed as I walked away.
I had to admit that working with Dr. Styles was more comfortable now, in some ways. I understood him a bit more and didn't take everything he said so seriously. He, in turn, backed off a little with the criticism. Not completely, but I didn't think he'd be able to go cold turkey anyway.
But in some ways, it was hard. Not awkward, but challenging. Harry and I had eventually decided, together, to not make anything out of our make-out session at the pub. We were pretty much on the same page that, yes, it was enjoyable and we both were willing participants, but no, it would never work for us to be romantically involved when we worked together. It was taboo, and everyone knew it. Although that didn't always stop everyone either.
What was nice was that we were spending a little more time together outside of work, hanging out on the beach, having lunch together. One evening, we followed through with the neighborly gesture of grilling together on the rooftop patio of our building.
Once the steaks were done, we sat, basking in the last bit of sunlight that would soon disappear behind the cityscape to our west, enjoying the cool breeze off the lake from the east.
"You're a good cook, Dr. Styles," I commented. He glanced up at me and raised his eyebrows in expectation. "Harry," I said, correcting myself. It was hard for me to get used to calling him by his name when I still had to refer to him by his title at work.
"Thank you," he smiled. "Must be those years of culinary classes my mother forced me to take."
I tried to stifle a giggle. "Culinary classes?"
"My parents wanted to make sure I had all the best opportunities, and that even if I did end up in the food industry, it wouldn't be flipping burgers at McDonalds," he laughed.
"Have you ever even been inside of a McDonalds?" I asked, skeptical.
He cocked his head and gave me a disapproving look. "Of course, I have." Then he added, "But I can probably count the number of times on one hand."
"What did you eat?"
"A Big Mac, of course," he said, winking. "With fries and a chocolate milkshake, the classic American meal."
"You mean the classic American heart attack," I replied with a roll of my eyes. "Of course, I'm not one to talk. I'm kind of a junk food junkie myself."
"Well, we'll just have to change that," he said with a grin that made my knees weak. It was obvious to both of us that we were now regularly blurring the line between casual friendship and intimate friendship. Even that simple comment, to me, communicated that he intended to spend more time with me, a fact for which I was grateful. But more time together also meant more playing with fire, or at least getting a little closer to it, since it was now obvious there was a mutual attraction.
We finished our meal, quietly enjoying the gentle breeze blowing in from the lake. It was always hot and sticky in Chicago mid-summer, but evenings like this were very enjoyable.
We started to clean up and Harry, resuming his curious streak of shyness from the night of the cocktail party, blurted, "Would you like to come up to my apartment? Well, down from here, I guess."
I wasn't sure how to answer, mostly because I had no idea if that was a loaded question. Was it, "Come to my apartment and I'll show you my bedroom," or "Come to my apartment so I can show it off," or "Come to my apartment and we'll eat ice cream and watch movies"?
To be honest, I was completely okay with any of those options, even though it would make things so much more complicated if it was the bedroom. I said, "Sure. Do you have any ice cream?"
He laughed at me, asking, "Do you always beg food from your host?"
"I'm not begging food," I said, defending myself. "I was going to offer to buy some so we could have dessert together. Besides, I brought the salad up her for dinner, remember?"
"Sorry," he mumbled. "How about if we walk down to Coldstone and pick something out together?"
"Sure." I gave him a little thumbs up. "Meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes?"
"I'll swing by your apartment," he offered. "That way you're not waiting down there alone."
I stopped and challenged him a little. "Why are you so worried about my safety? I am a grown woman and I think I'm pretty level-headed. I'm not going to dress like a slut and walk through Garfield Park at three in the morning."
He winced at my crass language. "I just am. You're a beautiful woman, you're not very big, and I would assume you're not very strong."
I put the plates down and brought my hands to my hips. "Harry, I take that as an insult." I was proud of myself and my education and my ability to find a promising career. It bothered me that anyone would view me as weak.
He looked at me with confusion written across his face. "I didn't mean it as an insult. I was just stating the obvious."
I went to him and stood so our toes were touching, and I looked directly up at his face, challenging him. "Just because I'm short doesn't mean I'm weak. And just because I'm beautiful – thank you, by the way – doesn't mean I'm more likely to be assaulted." My blood was starting to boil at the idea that he thought I was some damsel in distress. "Just so you know, statistics show-"
He interrupted my rant by placing his hands on my arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to sound like that. I just..." He paused, as if he wasn't sure what to say. "I just want to look out for you. Is that so bad?"
His voice sounded so sincere, and there was never any denying that he was absolutely beautiful as well. So when I heard his apology and examined his face, my frustration weakened. "Fine," I said, trying to sound aloof, although inside, I was warmed by his concern.
We were caught in that same moment, the kind that happened just before we kissed in the pub. Our faces were close since and he had subtly leaned further down while he had apologized. Our breathing became heavy as we tried to assess each other. I knew he wanted to kiss me and I always wanted to kiss him, every second of every day.
Finally, I found some will power and said, "Fine, now let's get some ice cream." I pulled away, purposefully walking toward the elevator in order to bring my things back to my apartment.
When I let myself in, I closed the door and sighed. "What am I going to do?" I whispered, knowing I wouldn't have enough self-control to stay away from Harry's lips forever. Maybe I just had to break things off completely, knowing we couldn't even be friends with so much sexual tension between us. But I knew I couldn't really stay away from him unless I moved to Antarctica.
I was startled back to reality with a text from Megan: Aaliyah and I are driving down tomorrow! You'd better be ready.
What? They obviously didn't understand that their spontaneity didn't jive with my current lifestyle and job. I texted back: I have to work tomorrow :( But I have the next three days off after that, hoping they would just come the following day.
Megan's reply: That's okay. Let us in, give us a key and we'll explore until you're done working.
Me: I work 7 PM to 7 AM :/
Megan: You can sleep till noon and then we'll head out for some fun.
Me: You two are going to be the death of me. See you tomorrow :p
As inconvenient as their timing was, I was excited that I'd finally get to see them after four months.
Harry came by shortly after I'd touched up my hair and lipstick. I had briefly considered a cold shower since my pulse was still racing wildly from our near kiss. "Ready for ice cream?" He asked. I gazed up at him, stunned by the sight of the slick ponytail at the top of his head. He noticed my attention to it and said, "Too hot to wear my hair down."
Laughing, I replied, "Try this frizzy disaster!" I motioned to my hair, which didn't behave well in the humidity.
"Your hair is lovely," he answered. "I especially liked it the night we went out."
"Well, I spent hours straightening it, so don't expect to see it too often."
He put his hand on the small of my back as we waited for the elevator. We stepped out into the lingering heat and walked in comfortable silence down the street to Coldstone Creamery. As soon as we stepped inside, a blast of air conditioning welcomed us.
"Should we get a big cup and share it, or separate cups?" I asked.
"Sharing sounds nice," he said,with just a hint of a silly grin on his face.
However, when we tried to come to a decision, we found that we were polar opposites. He wanted frozen yogurt with something fruity like bananas and pineapple. I wanted as much chocolate and gooey caramel as I could get into one cup.
"How about separate cups?" I asked, smirking. He conceded with a small nod.
He ordered his frozen yogurt with pineapple, banana, and a sprinkle of coconut. I, on the other hand, ordered a combination of chocolate and caramel latte ice cream flavors, adding Heath, Oreos, and generous dollops of hot fudge and whipped cream on top.
"Are you trying to become a diabetic?" He asked sarcastically as we left the ice cream store.
"Don't be snooty," I said. "I don't eat like this every day. But once in a while, I indulge myself. Nothing wrong with that."
He scoffed a little. "That's enough indulgence for a year."
"Oh, hush," I reprimanded him. He just responded with a tiny smile. I changed the subject to tell him that my friends were coming in from Wisconsin in the morning.
"That's nice," he commented. "Are they hillbillies as well?"
I stopped in my tracks. "That was kind of snobby," I said, quietly yelling at him.
He stopped and turned back towards me. His eyes softened. "I'm sorry. That was supposed to be a joke, but I guess it didn't come across like one."
"No, it didn't. From now on, how about if you don't make personal jokes about me?" I grumbled. It was weird because I knew that he wasn't really being conceited and that he surely wasn't attempting to insult me, but as much as I enjoyed spending time with him, I felt very self-conscious around him.
He stepped closer and stroked my cheek with a feather-light touch. "I'm really sorry, Ellie. I didn't mean to insult you at all. For what it's worth, I think you're very talented and intelligent. And I don't think you're a hillbilly. It was a bad joke."
I shook my head. "But you still think I'm not good enough. Or something," I continued, feeling kind of stupid as soon as I'd said it.
A look of mild shock crossed his face. "What on earth made you think that?"
"Almost everything you say to me makes me think that!" I snapped but then I said, "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just self-conscious around you. I mean, I know I shouldn't be but sometimes I do feel like a little bit of a hillbilly, coming from a rural area of Wisconsin, snorting like a pig when I laugh-"
"You snort like a pig when you laugh?" He interrupted with a gleeful grin.
"Well, yes, but that's not the point," I said, trying to keep myself from smiling. "I don't know, I guess maybe it feels like you could be a snob, having grown up as a rich kid, having a well-respected and prestigious position at the hospital. And you've definitely been critical of me at work, so I don't know..." I trailed off.
"I've been lightening up on you," he pointed out, pushing one of his long fingers into my shoulder. "But I'm sorry, truly. I would never want to hurt your feelings. And I know I was kind of a dick at work at first, but I'm trying to change, really." The look on his face convinced me of his sincerity.
"Okay," I said, in defeat. "I forgive you. And I'm sorry for being overly sensitive. But just watch it from now on, all right?" I teased. I couldn't help but smile at that point because he smiled in relief, too.
When we got to his apartment, I had to fight not to let my jaw drop open. It was the penthouse, after all, but I was still stunned at the sophistication of his décor. Now I knew why he had taken a few playful jabs at my apartment. My place looked like something out of a Country Living magazine and his looked like something from Lifestyles Of The Rich and Famous. I loved my taste in décor and matters of fashion, but at least I could see the disparity from his perspective.
"Nice place, Doctor," I said.
"Thanks," he said quietly. We put our ice cream in the freezer while he gave me a tour of the place.
I gasped as I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The lights from the city were reflected beautifully off a serene Lake Michigan. The breeze from earlier had died down, so everything looked as still as a painting. I looked to the south and saw the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier, which I'd remembered from when I first looked at the place, except that now it was lit up, the glittering colors shining in the water below. And we were definitely much higher up than my 3rd floor apartment.
"Let's go to Navy Pier!" I exclaimed, not realizing Harry was standing so close behind me.
"What, now?" He asked.
"Yes, now!" I said excitedly. "I've never ridden the Ferris wheel all lit up like that."
"I'm not a big fan of Ferris wheels," he said. "Maybe we could plan a day there, together," he emphasized, "some time soon."
"You don't like heights and you live way up here?" I asked, turning my head to look at him, and found that his face was hovering over my shoulder.
"Something like that," he admitted. "But up here, I have expert architecture and thousands of tons of steel beneath me. A Ferris wheel is a rickety contraption that doesn't seem at all safe to me."
"Doctor Styles!" I said in surprise. "So, you've never been on a Ferris wheel?"
He shook his head sheepishly as he led me around the rest of the apartment, showing me all of the elegant features. Besides the view, I was most impressed by a long, narrow built-in fireplace with an equally long sofa placed in front of it.
"Outside or on the balcony?" He asked, retrieving our ice cream from the freezer.
"I think I like it right in front of this fire," I said, taking a seat on the sofa. "Besides, aren't you too scared to go on the balcony?" I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.
"Now you're the one who's teasing," he answered with a pout. "I can't help it if my mother almost dropped me off a balcony when I was little."
"What?" I squealed in horror.
"Joking," he said with a sassy smirk.
We sat and enjoyed our confections together. I liked that we could be silent together and not feel uncomfortable.
"So you were saying your friends are coming tomorrow?" He asked. "Sorry about the hillbilly remark."
"I already forgave you. And yes, Megan and Aaliyah. They're the spontaneous type. Megan just texted me before we went to get ice cream, to tell me that they were coming. And I have to work tomorrow night."
"And they're still coming?" He asked in surprise. "That doesn't seem very polite." He glanced at me cautiously and said, "No offense intended."
"It's okay," I grinned. "Politeness does not exist between the three of us. We're like family. I'll just give them a key to my place and they'll entertain themselves."
"Would you like me to show them around while you're at work? I'm off tomorrow night," he offered.
"Oh, Harry, I couldn't ask you to do that."
"I offered, and I would sincerely enjoy doing that for you."
I agreed, thinking it would be nice for my friends to have someone who knew Chicago a little better to show them around. They could also get a read on this guy for me. I still found it hard to figure him out. I mean, I already knew that there was mutual attraction, but I wondered whether he was as crazy with everyone else as he was with me – first correcting me all the time and then kissing me and giving me the puppy pout so I'd forgive him.
"So, you've taken culinary classes and you've never been on a Ferris wheel. What else is there to know about the mysterious Dr. Styles?" I asked.
"Mysterious," he said, half laughing, half scoffing. "Well, you also know that I've only been to McDonalds a handful of times. That's privileged information."
"Are you a foodie?" I asked.
"Maybe," he answered. "When I'm cooking, I like to experiment with spices and textures and flavors, but sometimes I fail terribly. I admit that I'm picky when eating out or shopping. I just want to stay fit and healthy and not die of heart disease in ten years." He looked at me, maybe to see if I was following him. "I guess that's the downside of being a doctor. I see the bad side of everything."
"But you've eaten at least a handful of Big Mac meals, so that's at least a year's worth of indulgence," I pointed out.
"Touché," he said, sporting an adorable grin.
"I try to eat healthy, but like I said, I like my junk food once in a while," I said, scooping a heaping spoonful of gooey chocolate and caramel into my mouth. I clamped my mouth shut to avoid laughing or spitting it out as some of it trickled down my chin. Harry gingerly wiped it away with his napkin.
When I was able to swallow it, I laughed nervously and said, "Sorry. You know what they say about us hillbillies, ll four feet in the trough!"
At that, Harry laughed wildly and so did I, proud to have done something to see that irresistible face he made when he was happy. His face crinkled up when he laughed really hard, and I'd only had the pleasure of seeing it once or twice before. It was endearing, and it made me feel accomplished that I could make him laugh so easily. I also decided to let go of my self-consciousness and trust that he didn't think less of me just because we had some differences.
"Let me see," I mused. "Have you ever had boxed macaroni and cheese or hot dogs?"
"No on the macaroni and cheese, only homemade or restaurant-prepared. Yes on the hot dogs, but that was only because I used to go to Cubs games with a friend of mine in middle school."
"Pop tarts?" I asked.
"Who hasn't had Pop-tarts?" He asked, like it was a ridiculous question.
"Anyone who's health conscious!" I quickly replied.
"Cheetos?"
"Of course."
"Chicago-style deep dish pizza?"
"Now you're just being ridiculous, Ellie. I grew up here, remember?"
"Oh, I know! Cheese curds! Wisconsin cheese curds, and craft beer?"
That stumped him. "What are cheese curds? And I'm familiar with the term craft beer, but I've never actually had a beer."
I looked at him, sorely disappointed. "The next time we hang out, we're going to a brewery and you're going to taste beer. You aren't even American if you haven't had beer!" I laughed.
"Now, now, it's just a matter of taste," he scolded me lightly. "If you're so insistent that beer is worth tasting, I'll try it, just for you."
"And the Ferris wheel, too?"
"Not unless I drink enough beer to pass out first," he laughed.
Harry and I enjoyed the rest of our evening, chatting mostly about lighthearted topics and enjoying each other's company. I left his apartment feeling both fulfilled by our growing friendship, and at the same time, regretting that we had made the decision not to get involved romantically. Because, after that splendid night with him on the roof and eating ice cream in front of his fireplace, there was nothing I wanted more than for Harry Styles to fall hopelessly in love with me.
* * * * *
Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? I love to hear them all! Thanks for reading! :D