Diligence [H.S.]

FOURTEEN

Chapter Song: Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac

...

HARRY STYLES

I'm going to throw up.

Without a doubt, I'm gonna throw up.

Is it too hot in here? It feels hot in here, but I also keep getting chilled, so maybe it's my nerves getting the best of me. Plus, Andrea has always been a fucking ice cube, and even though it's almost February, the weather isn't decent enough to not run the heater for her.

I rush down the stairs when I get a notification on my phone telling me that a car has pulled into the driveway. I've never been more thankful for my fucked up sleep schedule than I am at this moment. If I were sleeping when Nate called me, I would have been screwed running around half-awake trying to make sure the house was somewhat put together.

Jo mentioned she and Oliver would be talking to Andrea about the idea of her staying here. Not long after that, she told me it didn't go well. The last thing I expected was a call from Nate at one-thirty in the morning telling me Andrea asked him to pick her up and bring her here.

Pure fucking panic. That is all I felt the moment he finished his sentence. I didn't need him to say anything else before I hung up and jumped out of bed.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I'm suddenly overly aware of how awkward I will seem just standing here when they walk in.

I don't want to be waiting here or pacing impatiently when she walks in. Maybe I should lean against the table.

I plant a hand down on top of the foyer table, allowing my body to lean slightly before I glance down at myself.

"I look like a fucking idiot," I mumble.

Maybe I should just open the door like a normal human being.

The muffled sound of two car doors shutting echoes back to me by the time I grab the door handle. I quietly look through the peephole on my door. God, why am I so nervous? My legs are close to trembling and my hands feel sweaty.

Andrea and Nate come into my view, walking toward the door, and I choose to open it despite my underlying fear.

"Front door open."

Fucking christ, I forgot how loud that is.

The cold breeze wakes me up when it rushes through the door frame, and my breath gets stuck in my throat when I see her walking toward me. She doesn't look happy, not at all, but she doesn't look like she wants to punch me in the face. It almost looks like she's hiding behind Nate as he leads them both toward me.

He has the storage bin of her belongings l I saw a few days ago in his hands. Andrea has a bag full to the brim with clothes slung over her shoulder, and I have the urge to offer to take it. The scowl on her face stops me from doing so.

"Hey," Nate greets me when he reaches the door.

He looks exhausted, not that it would have stopped him from being there tonight if he's feeling it. I know he cares about Andrea on a different level than a professional one. They've become friends since they first met, and I know he's done his best to not let it show that their bond goes deeper than surface level.

"Hey," I respond, despite my eyes being nowhere near him. I glance at the bin, to the bag on her shoulder, and then to her, "Do you need help grabbing the rest of your stuff?" I ask.

I step aside as they walk into the foyer, and my chest tightens when her gaze meets mine.

"This is it," she mutters.