25 Days With Mr. Arrogant - A Harry Styles fanfiction

CHAPTER 7:

“Wait, wait. Let me get this straight – you’re in a slave contract with a foreigner you’ve never met?”

A traditional movie night with Victor usually consisted of greasy cheese pizza and if we were lucky a cheap bottle of red wine. The movie, of course, would be some shitty rental – either an indie film, for his tastes, or a lackluster, sappy romance flick that most straight men detested. That’s why I was so happy to have Victor in my life. The lighthearted chick flicks and the deeper discussions were typically easier dealt with in the company of a gay man. But tonight was different because tonight I made the difficult decision to tell him about my situation with the disgustingly wealthy Mr. arrogant.

“It’s not a slave,” I sighed, taking a drink from my wine glass. “A servant, technically.”

“Oh please,” He rolled his eyes. “You’re doing his grocery shopping. You clean his sheets!” He turned to me, his eyes slightly wide. “Your hands touched his dry semen, Alex! You are his slave, woman! His semen!”

I coughed a bit, sputtering into my glass at the thought. “Please,” I choked out, setting the glass down carefully. “Please, Vic, don’t remind me. Jesus Christ.”

“Okay, okay,” He laughed slightly, picking up his own glass and taking a small sip from it. “This guy better be fine as hell, honey, for what you’re putting yourself through.”

“He’s not,” I said quickly, sharply. “He’s definitely not good looking.”

“No?”

I frowned slightly and shook my head after a moment. “No…”

Vic smirked, his eyes twinkling in my direction, “You don’t sound so sure about that, honey.”

I felt my cheeks flush and took another long drink from my glass, grimacing at the bitter taste of the lukewarm wine flooding my mouth. I sat there, thinking. Harry was not hot – he looked like some sort of bizarre hippie trapped in the skin of a British boy and he was hideous! His eyes were just plain and boring and green and shaped that certain way, and his jaw line wasn’t even that masculine…

I inwardly groaned.

I wasn’t very convincing, even to myself.

Victor grinned at me, sinking his teeth into another piece of the now-cold pizza. He bobbed his head back and forth, chewing slowly.

“Alex has a crush,” He sang lightly.

I sat back into the cushions, mortified.

There was no way in hell. 

The next day I’d still received no word from Harry. It had been three days with no calls, no texts, no angry voicemails – nothing. I went about my day regardless, stopping for some coffee and a sandwich in between classes, dropping off a library book, meeting Vic for some cider and donuts late in the afternoon. It was around five, when I was at the library finishing up a project for my politics course, that I decided it was time to leave. It was getting dark, and with the sun down, the cold air of October would be agonizing on my fifteen minute walk home.

I was right. My eyes watered as I briskly weaved in and out of other people on the sidewalks, desperate to seek the warmth of my apartment. I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself in my blanket on the couch with a cup of hot coffee and watch a movie. I was absolutely exhausted, and the quick gusts of wind against my skin caused a numb sensation to spread through my body.

I was grateful when I got to the small apartment complex, practically sprinting into the hallway towards the stairs. I trudged up them slowly, rubbing my hands together for some additional warmth, and made my way slowly down the hallway towards my door. I knew Paige was home, so I didn’t bother retrieving my keys – I simply opened the door and stepped inside. I nearly groaned aloud, standing there and letting my eyes flutter closed at the feeling of the heat on my body. It felt so good. It smelled so good, too. Frowning, I let my eyes open and took a few whiffs of the air. It smelled like Paige was baking; the aroma of sugar and dough was evident around me.