fight for control ↠ harry styles [b1] ✓

CHAPTER 72

Renleigh Kensington

A massive fucking headache followed the night of fun at Niall Horan's place but in all honesty, it didn't bother me nearly as much as the burned omelette did. This was exactly why my career path didn't lead me to being a fucking chef. I burned the easiest meal on planet Earth and I knew there was barely any comeback from this.

No, there had to be.

There had to be because it was now the first of February which meant it was Harry's birthday and I had a list of things I had to accomplish throughout the next twenty-four hours. It had been a while since I gave a shit about anyone's birthday, not even my family's seem to want to make me go all out. Well, not to the extent I wanted to when it came to Harry.

So, I tried again and it seemed like it was going to turn out good. I didn't have everything to serve him a full English breakfast, mainly because I never really ate at home as, clearly, I had no idea how to cook. I mean I did but that didn't mean it would taste nice. I just prayed for the best with this half-ass breakfast.

Oh, come on. It surely is not that hard to make an omelette with sausage, hash-browns and beans.

Trust me, it got the best of me. And I wasn't so happy knowing I didn't have bacon, tomato, mushroom and black pudding on the side, then again, Harry didn't like mushrooms so I guess that was fine.

Once the two pieces of toasts were out of the toaster and buttered fairly, I placed them on the plate that looked like it could be eaten but whether it tasted nice or not was another question. Also, something that Harry would have to figure out so really, that was no longer my problem. I quickly disposed of the tea bag that was in the mug and took a sip of it to make sure at least that was good.

Well, that was a lie. I just wanted some of it. Plus, he would never find out that I took a sip.

Or three.

I tripped like twice and I almost dropped the tray the same amount but I made up back up to my room safely. Harry was still deep in sleep; his loud snores filled my room up and I couldn't help but laugh when he almost choked as he laid on his back. It made him wake up, though, and that saved me from having to do that at least.

"Mmm what's up," he mumbled tiredly whilst he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms.

"Rise and shine, princess!" I smiled. "You are now twenty-five and we are officially 2 years apart in age!"

"Yeah, until your birthday—wait, when is your birthday?"

"May."

"Hm."

"Yeah, now come on," I sat down next to him with the tray in my hands. "Pull the legs out, please," I asked because I wouldn't have been able to hold everything up without the contents going all over the place.

"You cooked for me?" he asked with pouted lips. "Baby, you are so cute but I must ask—am I gonna die?"

"I don't know. Try the food and we'll find out," I smiled smugly and he gave me a fake laugh until his face dropped and he pushed himself up against the pillows. "Go on, don't make me wait too long."

"Wait—is that a mug with a H on it?" he asked me as a grin widened on his face. His cheeks looked so soft as he smiled and his hair was quite messy since he had literally just woken up. His arm was filled with the imprints of the pillow and quilt case and it made me want to get back in bed and just cuddle.

Fuck.

I was becoming a sappy ass bitch.

"I don't know. Is it?" I asked back curiously. "Oh, yeah," I nodded. "It stands for 'hurry the fuck up and try the food!'"