Blowing Smoke (Harry Styles)

Chapter 31

I sat at the brunch bar, sitting up on a stool, staring down at my nearly empty bowl of fruit. I poked my silver spork into the last piece of melon which was drizzled in honey. I smiled to myself at the wonderful taste of honey melon in my mouth. I got off the stool at the brunch bar and walked back to the kitchen. I set my bowl in the sink.

I grabbed my now full mug of of pomegranate tea and sipped it idly. I returned to the living room and stared out the large window at the pouring rain which dripped down in large drops. I liked to watch the rain, since it was peaceful and I did just that.

I thought very deeply about Harry as I stared at the rain. Natalie had returned and I was forced to sleep on the sofa again after two nights in a row of sleeping in Harry's bed. Harry and I had kept our feelings for each other a secret between just the two of us. We had kissed many times by ourselves, and I dreamt about them each night, cherishing them deeply. Harry and I mainly just talked and hung out on our own.

I remembered that the last night that I slept in Harry's bed, I had had a nightmare and Harry held me in his arms until I fell asleep there, walking up still in the comfort of his grasp.

I had just woken up to yet another nightmare. I decided to have a fruit salad and a cup of tea before I would go in the parking garage and work on one of the many cars owned by the Westsiders.

When my warm tea was finished and settled in my stomach with a glowing warmth, I got up and out of my trance at the rain and walked to the garage. The door had to be pulled opened with a hard shoulder to the frame.

When I pulled the door opened, the garage cool air gushed against me, making me shiver in my skinny jeans and baggy t-shirt. I stepped into the garage, letting the door shut behind me, and shivered from the cold concrete floor beneath my socked feet.

I walked over to one of the three cars that was parked in the garage, the 1995 black Camaro. God, I loved the look of this car. It drove so smoothly and had such a sharp look to it that you couldn't get from just any convertible.

I ran my fingertips over the beautiful black metal, smiling to myself at how my reflection was visible in the freshly waxed hood.

Paul had informed me that this car was going to be used for racing, which was one of the Westsiders favourite pass times, apparently. This car wasn't that fast, but apparently it was an amateur competition racing late 1990 cars. The race wasn't for a week, but Paul wanted his Camaro in ship shape.

I lay down on the creeper that Paul "borrowed" from someone, wheeled myself underneath the beautiful Camaro and began to work on restoring the slightly rotted fuel tank.

I worked on the engine in cleaning it, repairing it, and being sure that it ran smoothly. When the engine was fixed to near perfection, I popped opened the hood of the car, staring at the wonderful inner workings and at how awesome it was. I laughed lightly from sheer excitement at how stellar the working was.

I rubbed the brown rust on my white shirt, just over my stomach before grabbed a typical wretch to work on the spark plugs.

After almost an hour of working on the car, I jumped at the sound of the garage door closing. I turned my head to see Harry standing at the door from the house to the garage with a smirk.

"Good morning." he mumbled.

"Good m-morning, but you scared the fucking shit out of m-me." I admitted with a chuckle and continued to work on the spark plugs.

Harry laughed. "I'm glad."

"A-arse." I cursed under my breath and kept my head down, focusing on the many bits and metal parts in the hood of the car.