Ambition || Harry Styles

*11*

Friday has become my new favourite day.

I've been nervous since lunch and the more I think about seeing Harry again at 6pm the worse it gets.

"Lex, please calm down," Katie lectures for the tenth time as I smooth down the cream pencil skirt and black shirt I let her dress me in this time. "You look hot!"

"I'm fine, I don't know what you're talking about," I try and act relaxed as I palm the pain in my chest and try to mentally slow my heart rate down.

During the week, Harry had sent me a bunch of text messages and emails that Katie has convinced me were flirtatious but, I've been trying to reassure my fragile ego that they were nothing. 

He writes the way he talks, elusive and a little cocky, never delving into much and always keeping it open. 

He would say things like, "How's your day, Miss Development Manager?" to which I would reply, "Hey, great thanks, how's yours?" and then hear nothing until he text about something a day or two later, completely unrelated and ignoring the question.

I know this is his game, one Katie is certain he is playing because he likes me, but all I know is that he is definitely winning. 

His unanswered responses were leaving me uncharacteristically desperate, constantly checking my phone to see if he has written back or jumping every time my email chimes or phone rings.

I don't know what's wrong with me, maybe he is doing it deliberately, but he has left me hanging on every word and I am starting to drive myself a little crazy, silently begging he will give me more.

I just want to know more about him, want him to open up more than the bare minimum so he doesn't remain this mystery that I can't solve. Words I can't believe I'm saying to myself considering how many people have uttered them to me in the past.

I've found myself endlessly daydreaming, wondering how he would act in certain situations or what he would say about specific things.

What are his friends like? Is he close with his parents? What's his favourite band?

I know it is pathetic, the rational 99% of my brain telling the other 1% to sit the fuck down and stop being dramatic, but when my heart leaps in my chest as I look at 5.55pm written on the clock, I realise that this 1% is not going to be silenced easily.

My stomach plunges when a new email notification pops up from Katie and a dancing banana animation repeats again and again on my screen.

"Working hard, Princess?"

My reaction is somewhere between theatrical and absurd, the gasp sucking into my lungs far too loud and there was absolutely no need for me to click out of the browser and stand up as straight as if I was on trial for murder.

The look on Harry's face says it all; amused, but mainly confused.

Katie, who has opened the door for him is covering her giggling with her hand, trying not to laugh at how unbelievably shit I am at this.

"Um, hey," I say as casually as possible, pushing the hair out of my face. "Sorry, I was just, um..." my voice trails off and he raises an eyebrow at my bizarre behaviour.

His eyes travel shamelessly down my body, making my skin burn in their trail and he bites the inside corner of his lips as if stopping himself from saying something. 

Do I look stupid? Or slutty? Or like I'm trying too hard.  I internally curse Katie and twirl the ends of my hair.

"Did you change your clothes?" he questions, and my brow furrows.

"What?" I start to panic on the inside but my voice is calm.

"I-I thought I saw you earlier," he runs his long, ring clad fingers through his curls as he questions himself. "I was in the area and saw you leave with Katie but I was with a client and couldn't shout out you. Thought you were wearing like... a black suit?"

If the room caught fire and I suffocated to death I think it would be less painful than this.

"Um, oh, right. Yeah, I did, I um, am meeting some friends after work... so," I lie through my teeth and it's so fucking obvious I almost cringe.

"Mhm," he smirks.

Harry's outfit is far more subdued than the last couple of times I've seen him.  His black shirt is done up almost to the neck and covers all of his tattoos bar the one on his hand and it's paired with black trousers that are perfectly tailored.

I remember my dad's parting words to him last week and I'm almost a little disappointed that he catered to his demands so easily.

"You better not keep Dad waiting," I suggest as I head to the door. "I'll show you to his office."

The walk is just down a hallway but I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up with the thought of Harry strolling behind me.  It's as if he has this presence, an energy maybe, and it's like electricity.

"Styles. Good to see you." My father stands to shake his hand as we walk into his office that is the size of a small London apartment.

There isn't even a glance in my direction but Harry is too busy thanking him for his time to notice.

I turn to leave when I hear Harry's voice call to me. "Are you not staying, Alexa?"

"Oh," I glance back at him and then to my father who is taking a seat. "Sure, I'd-"

"Not today, Alexa," my dad cuts me off, authority dripping from his voice. "No doubt you have other things to do and this won't be of interest to you, I'm sure," he says the last bit so condescendingly that I have to bite my lip not to fight back.

Harry's lips are parted in half shock and half worry that he has overstepped some sort of invisible boundary, but I nod in acceptance and leave. 

I'm halfway out the door when I hear my dad call out to my brother, Daniel to join them from the office next door.

I slow down, lingering a little to hear Daniel make some bullshit remark as he enters the room, that I'm paranoid is poking fun at me, and has Dad and Harry laughing heartily along with him.