Harry Styles Imagines

49. Age Gap Part 2

M R. S T Y L E S

As I look down at the city from my office, I realize two things.

For starters I seriously need some food in my system after that tiny breakfast I had this morning. I now realize one slice of bread with butter on it is cetainly not enough for a grown man to function on for an entire day.

Two is I can't stop thinking about her. No matter how hard I try, I just can't. Her faint smell that filled my nostrils when she walked passed me, her sparkling eyes that I could not stop looking into once I had had the chance to truly admire the colour, and the way her nose scrunched up and her lips turned into a small pout when she realized she had forgotten to bring a key.

Everything about her drew me in. Everything. And now that I have got a taste of the way she can make me feel, I don't want it to stop. Ever. I was a goner the moment she had turned around and looked up to me. And yeah, maybe I am crazy for feeling this way about a woman whom I had only met 2 days ago, but that doesn't even matter to me. She's the one, for sure.

"Mr. Styles? Hello? Are you still there, sir?"

The high-pitched voice of my second secretary, Maddison, sounds from the speaker of my phone, and snaps me out of my thoughts about Y/N.

I messily run a hand through my brown hair, soothing my scalp in the process. With parted lips I heave a sigh, before answering, "Yes, I'm here. My apologies. What were you saying exactly?"

A soft giggle fills the air of my office, causing my eyebrows to draw together.

"Has your absence in this conversation something to do with the special lady whom I had to give the spare keys of Ms. Chloe to, Mr. Styles?"

She has completely figured me out.

"No, of course not. Besides, it's not really any of your business. Now, what were you saying?"

The sound of papers being moved around is heard, before my second secretary informs me about the call she has received half an hour ago from Lindsay, my first secretary. Lindsay has called in sick. For the entire week. She was down with a very contagious bronchitis.

I take a deep breath.

The news not only means I have to do all of the paperwork of this week on my own, no, my first secretary being sick also means she can't get my lunch while I am working. And that indicates she isn't able to buy my everyday need, those delicious chocolate brownies from the cafe down the road. Me not having these goodies is a big problem. A very big, fat problem. I have to admit that if I don't have a taste of those made-in-heaven brownies, I can get a tiny bit grumpy. Scratch that, it turns me into Grumpy Cat.

Besides, I can't just go back to work without any food in my system. Without a doubt, I'd just faint behind my desk.

An idea pops into my mind. It's most defintiely a really stupid idea, but hey, I can't be smart all the time.

I take a quick glance at my agenda to check if I have any meetings in the afternoon, before snatching my jacket from the chair, and leaving my office in a haze.

~~~

Y / N

The café was calm during the entire day. Customers came and go, some taking more time than others. Now that it is nearing noon, the amount of people in the café rises slightly, but you still wouldn't call it busy.

You dry your hands off with a towel. You were in the process of washing some of the dishes, when you become conscious of the brownie batch in the oven. Every day of the week you would make two batches of homemade brownies. It had become a daily routine really.

It all started with a plate of brownies you had brought along to work for your birthday last year. Every member of the staff loved them from the first bite, even your boss thought they were delicious. He had joked about the idea of you making those brownies more often. Although it was only a joke, you've been baking brownies ever since. Not that you mind, though. The customers are crazy about the chocolate desserts too, and the compliments you receive were flattering.

You carry the baking tray toward the store, and place the brownies behind the glass display. The glances you get from the customers while doing so make you smile.

"Y/N?"

You look up from the desserts when you hear your name. You make eye contact with Jasmin, one of your co-workers.

"Could you help me out with the cash register? It's getting more crowded, and I can't handle it on my own," she says, her voice filled with panic. The exhaustion was clear to see in her dark brown eyes.

You send her a smile while you nod your head. Stalking to the cash register, you take your place behind it, and immediately start to take orders. After half an hour you notice the café is running out of brownies and strawberry pies. You feel slightly dissapointed about that, because you couldn't make more. You had already baked two batches.

Your eyes make their way back to the next person in the queue. Your breath hitches halfway down your throat as your brows shoot up. His glinstering green eyes stare into yours in amusement and the corners of his mouth turn up.

"Fancy seeing you here Ms. Y/N," the handsome brunet exclaims happily.

The only thing you were able to do, is bob your head in response, before quietly muttering something about his order and what he would like.

Mr. Styles grins at your lack of reaction. He has come to love your adorable shyness, and the way your cheeks turn pink after one of his flirty remarks.

"One macchiato and two brownies for me, please."

In relief you turn around to make his order, but your hands tremble the entire time. His unexpected prescence catches you off guard, and you have no idea what the proper way is to react in this slightly embarrassing situation.

His gaze on you is undeniable, it makes you feel as self-conscious as you've never felt before. Mr. Styles' stare never leaves your face. By that time, you probably look as bright red as a freshly picked tomato from a bush.

"You're lucky today. Those were the last brownies," you softly inform him.

A loose strand of hair falls in front of your eyes, and as you push it back behind your ear, Harry has to hold himself back from brushing his hand against the soft skin of your cheek. The only thing going through his mind is how much he wanted to pull the hair tie out of your hair, so your locks would fall freely against your shoulders and frame your face. An unknown heat spreads itself in his stomach as he doesn't tear his gaze away from your beautiful face.

"I'm a very lucky lad, indeed."

His words cause you to choke on your silva as your eyes widen. You aren't stupid. You know he wasn't talking about the last brownies. He is, rather obviously, flirting with you. To say you are charmed is an understatement, but you still don't know the man.

You don't find the right way to react to such a handsome creation that tries to get your attention. The way that man can make you feel by just looking at you, is something unknown to you. Your entire body is tingling in every place and your cheeks heat up out of nowhere.

Shaking your head, you see Mr. Styles search in his wallet to pay for everything. As you are about to give him his change, a business card is swiftly thrown onto the counter. In confusion you look up from the white card. As you make eye contact with Mr. Styles, you are met with a cheeky smile spreading over his beautiful face.

"Please do text me once you're free."