Never - A Haylor Fanfic [discontinued]

Chapter 6 - Help me up.

Three hours later, I'm lazing on the couch, burrito in hand, watching the last episode of 'friends', with my cat, Meredith, snoozing against my leg. Let's just say I've never been happier. That's until a rhythmic knock rings throughout the house, startling my cat and sending my heart into an uneven frenzy.

I scuttle down the stairs, only to find that my guest has already let himself in, and let's just say I'm not angry about it.

Harry has changed into a loose patterned shirt, and I can't help but notice that less than half of it is buttoned up. A tight pair of black jeans are held up with a slick back belt, and his hair is swept messily onto one side, exposing one side of his chiseled jawline.

"Hey, Hazza!"

I cheer, trying to act casual as I swerve around the banister, heading for the kitchen. The death glare he shoots me in that moment is the most petrifying one he's given me in a while.

"Alright, so I guess that nickname's off the table..."

I breathe as he slowly shuffles into the kitchen behind me.

"Right, so the recipe I wanna try out is a pumpkin spice cookie with cream cheese icing!"

I inform him, cheerily grabbing the slab of butter from the fridge. He doesn't move or speak, just stands and watches with his eyebrows raised.

"Oh wait!"

I whip around to face him again, placing the piping bags back onto the counter.

"You do like pumpkin spice, right? I mean it's not chocolate chip, peanut butter, vanilla or salad flavoured so you should be okay."

I exclaim, recalling our first conversation. To my surprise, a small smile spreads across his face.

"You do know I was just saying that to get rid of you, right?"

"Well, it wasn't that hard to figure out."

I reply, unable to contain a giggle.

"Right...um- oh crap, flour- flour, flour-"

Harry produces the bag in an instant, holding it to my nose teasingly. I send him a sideways smile, flattered by the playful gleam in his eyes, and prise the bag out of his fingers. I get on with pouring the right amounts of sugar, flour, cinnamon and nutmeg into a bowl, absent-mindedly humming along as I stir the mixture.

"I'm bored."

Harry grunts, and I stop what I'm doing to turn and face him. I see that he's leaning his elbows on the work surface and has his head cupped in his hands. My face flushes.

"Why don't you get started on the icing?"

His large eyes glance up, showing me he's listening.

"Ok, the recipe's here, you just need some butter, some cream cheese, um- sugar..."

I drift off as he stands up again, stepping over to me so he can see the book laid out messily in front of the pile ingredients. He inhales deeply, and I hear this because of just how close he's standing. So close I can smell his musky cologne as his eyes scan the page, and feel the soft fabric of his shirt against my arm.

Suddenly, the burning question I had for him a few days ago resurfaces, and I decide now might be the only time he won't get angry.

"Hey, um- could I just ask you...uh- what was- you know-"

His eyes leave the page, finding mine.

"-The other day when I- uh- tried to open that door...?"

As soon as the last word leaves my lips, the joy in his eyes fades away, and is replaced by his familiar distant glint. Heart pounding rapidly, I stare up at him just as he stares down at me, but at 6"2, Harry's stance is much more chilling than mine, and I feel like I'm shrinking by the second.

"Look, I get if you don't-"

The second my glare wavers, Harry slams the cookbook shut. The sudden break in silence takes me off guard, and I'm so startled that I'm sent toppling backwards. Unable to catch myself, I smack down on the floor, a cry leaving my lips as embarrassment engulfs me, along with a sharp pang in my back as I hit the cold tiles.

Something drops to it's knees beside me.

"You alright?"

Harry's caring tone is so unfamiliar to me that I almost don't notice his grip on my arm, offering to help me up. Unexpectedly, he takes my hand, dragging me to my feet. Trying to dismiss just how perfectly his hand clutches mine, I steady myself and thank him quietly, currently ignoring the increasing aching in my back.

But even in my state of shock, I can clearly see his hand drop mine. His face is contorted in confusion, presumably as he notices that he was actually nice to me. He suddenly swings around, grabbing a bag I hadn't realised he'd brought with him, before speed-walking to the door,

"Wait- wait, oh, come on, Harry!"

He storms out of the building, and I sigh frustratedly at this repetitive action. What is so difficult about human company for that man?

I scurry over to the door just in time to see him reach the other side of the road. Without thinking, I yell across the street to him.

"That is still rude!"

Before slamming my door and sinking into the couch. I finish making the cookies and the icing all by myself, my mind still whirring away as I position the last cookie on it's stand.

I decide to go to bed early, laying on my stomach obviously, and thankfully fall asleep instantly.

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