Sunglasses ✧ h.s. (re-write)

0.7 :: "Still allergic to barbers?"

( 01 / 03 / 18 )

Okay, it only took me a month this time 💀💀

I hate proofreading and I type all my chapters on my phone so there will be mistakes, pls point them out

*

My first job is nothing less than a dream come true. Anne is probably the loveliest boss I could ask for, with a personality that lights up a room and a dry, terrible sense of humour that has me laughing until my eyes water and my sides ache - though I still can't for the life of me figure who it is that she looks like, in the lines of her face and the angle of her nose. The shop, too, with its quiet atmosphere and South facing windows that catch the sunlight and bathe the shop in a warm glow at sunset, has quickly become an almost second home in the span of a week, a place that lets me unwind and forget about the outside world after a long day. The pile of documents that need to be transferred onto the computer is seemingly never-ending, but I relish in being able to submerge myself in work for hours at a time; it doesn't require me to do much thinking, but it also doesn't allow me to think about much else. It's a welcome distraction from the real distraction in the form of six foot tanned, tattooed skin, wavy brown hair, and sunglasses.

"Pumpkin," Harry says, immediately snapping me out of my thoughts. It kind of sounds like he meant to say it in that tone he always says it, like I've just stepped on the back of his shoe - but it doesn't really sound like that all. It's not particularly pleasant, but it isn't the opposite. And when I look at him, I immediately understand why: looking at him doesn't make me as angry as it usually does. I don't feel like punching him, or making some petty comment about his hair, or his sunglasses, or his ego. Suddenly, I can't hate him, because I know more about him. I know that he can be sweet, and polite, and even ever so slightly embarassed. I can't unsee the nice guy in him, and the curious, stupid part of me wants to know why he hides it.

"Oh, for fùck's sake," I mutter to myself, raising my voice address Harry with an unsure "Uh, hi, Gang- Harry."

He smiles a little, perhaps at my slip up and perhaps not, and I wonder what his real smile looks like - the big, uncensored one. Then he clears his throat and his face hardens into a mask of indifference. "Pumpkin," he repeats, just as at a loss as I am. "No pyjamas today?"

"No," I snap, because he sounds more amused than rude, and somehow that angers me more. "Still allergic to barbers?"

"If you're asking if I'm still setting legendary trends, then yes," he counters. How did he say that with a straight face?

"Setting legendary trends?" I snort. "That's absolute-"

Harry cuts me off by pointing to a blond guy walking towards us, his hair approaching shoulder length.

"Oh, come on," I scoff. "You didn't-"

"Jerome," Harry greets as the blond walks by.

"Harry!"

Harry throws me a smirk. "Nice hair."

"You know it, big guy!" Blond Guy calls over his shoulder, disappearing into another classroom.

"So stupidity really is infectious," I scoff, taking the moment to make my way into the classroom. Behind me, the sound of snickering is only just audible, prompting a tiny smile that makes me freeze in place. What am I doing?

"Earth to Pumpkin?" Harry calls from behind me. "Don't make me push you again."

Don't make me push you again. As if that's an inside joke. "We don't have inside jokes," I remind myself under my breath.