Ambition || Harry Styles

*16*

I've found myself longing for Friday for the first time in my career, but not for the reasons most people want the end of the working week to arrive.

Annoyingly, I missed Harry walk into our offices, however, my closed door didn't stop me from hearing him greet Katie, his syrupy voice sending a lightning bolt of electricity through me. 

He was early, of course, for his weekly mentoring session with my father which was about two minutes after Liam bailed me into a meeting to discuss new plans for a project in the works.

I catch myself impatiently tapping the tip of my pen against the desk, the repetitive noise finally breaking Liam's concentration.

"Are you okay, Lexi? You seem... distracted?" 

"I'm fine, Liam. Got a lot on my plate at the moment, that's all," I dismiss quickly, embarrassed and defensive, before launching immediately into what course of action needs to occur for permitting on the new site.

What am I doing?

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would be frustrated about someone wanting to discuss work with me instead of being able to do something for personal reasons. 

I twirl the end of my hair subconsciously.  

Somehow, I have allowed Harry to get under my skin and my work ethic to falter.

It's close to 9 pm when I hear Dad and Harry finally walk out of his office. Liam and the majority of my co-workers are long gone for the weekend and I hear my father makes some sort of crude joke as the men part ways.

My heart is racing at the thought of him approaching and the insecure part of me wonders if I can make a dash for the lift without him seeing me, the adrenaline all of a sudden overwhelming and I'm not sure if I want to subject myself to another dose of... him.

"Hey," the raspy croon of his voice sends a shiver down my spine as I look up to see him casually leaning against the doorframe, a black shirt open a little at the neck but not as far as I would have liked and his grey pinstripe pants seem to cling in all the right places.

"Hey," I try and say calmly back but the freight train that has highjacked my pulse is starting to run off track.

"Are you staying much later?" he asks, readjusting the handle of the duffle bag dangling from his long fingers and I abstain from asking what he is carrying around in such a big bag.

"Gym clothes," he answers, lifting the bag up a fraction and my cheeks blush when I realise I must have been staring for a little too long. Shrugging he adds, "Had every intention of going but I really can't be bothered."

"Oh, okay," I nod awkwardly. "I'm not staying long. I was just leaving, actually," I lie, saving the document on my computer that is only half done.

"Do you feel like watching one of those movies? My brain is kinda fried.  Your old man's been going through the details of all the new tax reforms." He runs a hand through his hair and his face looks more tired than I have seen him, his usual smart-arse act seemly semi-retired for the night.

My stomach flips at his invitation, my hopes soaring through the ceiling despite my subconscious trying to warn me on the way up.

I decide not to delve into the fact I had asked my dad about the reforms yesterday but he had dismissed me, telling me not to waste his time with something I, "probably won't understand, anyway."

"Yeah, sure, I've had a busy week, too," I admit as I take a look around my still messy desk. "Thanks again, for sending them," I add sheepishly.

"Welcome. You already had your bowl of lettuce for dinner?" he smirks a little, the attitude I'm starting to expect, creeping back in at the mention of the gift.