Priory // h.s.

chapter forty-six

Apparently, sitting still for the entirety of the flight has made Harry restless; he insists he needs to go down to the gym and burn off some energy before he takes the nap I want him to take.

And normally, I'm fine with him going down to the gym. I don't really care one way or another. Except now he's dragging me with him.

"Harry, you know I abhor gyms," I tell him as we step onto the rubberized track, soles of our shoes squeaking on the ground.

"Amber, you know how I feel about you using words like 'abhor' in normal conversations," Harry says, giving me an amused shake of his head.

I sweep a glare over all the workout equipment and my frown grows. I turn my eyes to Harry instead, but he looks so addicting, in a pair of black shorts and loose white tank-top, that I fear I won't be able to look away, so I just stare at the floor. 

"Well? Shall we run or do weights?" He bounces from toe to toe. He's way too excited about this.

"Do they have a vending machine?"

"Yep. Energy drinks and organic snacks."

"Are chips considered organic?"

Harry gives me a disapproving stare. "We need to work on your lifestyle choices, Amber. You need to be healthier."

Still grumbling, I trudge after him as he approaches some odd contraption that looks like it belongs in a torture room. "What's that?" I demand suspiciously.

"A lat pull-down. Didn't you ever take gym class?"

I watch as he sits on a small black seat and reaches up to pull down the handlebar to his chest. He adjusts the weight quickly, moving it to a heavier setting. My stomach churns nervously as he begins his workout; I feel like a total creeper hovering over him, but it's sort of hard to get my eyes to focus anywhere else but his taut biceps and straining muscles.

God, I hope I'm not drooling.

Giving me a cheeky smirk, Harry says, "I'd tell you to stop staring, but you never listen, do you? Besides, I can't really blame you."

"I'd be careful if I were you, Styles. There are plenty of things in this gym that I could use to fatally wound you." I give him an innocent smile.

Carefully, he eases the weight out of his grasp, straightening and pushing his curls out of his eyes. "Whatever. You couldn't hurt a fly."

"I'll have you know that the only reason for that is because they're so freaking fast that I can never catch them," I retort. Harry looks confused; I don't blame him. I'm not even sure myself of what I'm trying to say.

I am such a failure at being coy. God, shoving a sock in my mouth would be more effective.

"So you spend your time chasing flies. Why am I not surprised? Duck tamer." Harry grins. "You know something? I'd like to see you try this." He jerks his head towards the lat pull-down.

I scowl. In case you didn't notice, gyms put me in a sour mood. "What? You expect me to lift it on that heavy setting?"

"I expect you to try," Harry challenges.

Folding my arms over my chest, I sniff disdainfully. "Nope. Not happening."

He raises one eyebrow. "All right. I'll be back in a second; I'm just going to go get a drink of water really quick."

As he saunters off, a confident swagger in his step, I turn back to the lat pull down. "Can't be that hard," I mutter, edging onto the seat. I have to stand up to grab the handlebar, then slowly pull it down to my chest. Whoever made this machine clearly didn't take into account the dimensions of someone as tiny as me; it's much better suited to Harry's lanky frame. Nevertheless, I'm determined to give it a shot. If only to prove Harry wrong.