Through The Dark || Harry Styles

22. HARRY

HARRY

My knuckle taps on Lucy's door three times quickly and quietly. I've been sitting in my car for the past ten minutes, trying to convince myself that turning up here in the middle of the night isn't batshit crazy.

It's been a weird few weeks, awkward and strangely quiet, and although I never thought I would attribute "normal" with spending my nights and weekends with Lucy, that is exactly what my life has become. And I miss it.

Hearing Lola bark at the intrusion and Lucy hushing her as they both approach the front entrance, makes me smile.

"Hey." She's knotting the front of a creamy silk robe around her waist, fiddling with the ties as a way of keeping her hands busy as Lola runs in little circles in front of me until I kneel down to pat her.

"Hey." I step forward to place a kiss on Lucy's cheek and she pulls back a little at my touch.

Unspoken words hang in the air but neither one of us are brave enough to speak yet.

Her nerves are making mine worse.

Ushering me in, she stays looking at Lola to avoid my eyes that are following her as we walk together down the hallway and when we get into the usually spotless kitchen, I'm taken aback by the amount of cups and utensils everywhere.

"Shit, you were serious about working."

Her giggle makes my heart rush.

"Yeah, sorry, I'll clean up," she starts as I pick up one of the foil pouches that is open at the top.

"100% Arabica beans from Brazil and Guatemala," I read off the back. "Can you really tell the difference?"

She smiles, finally looking at me and a breath is knocked from my lungs.

"Of origin? Sometimes, they have certain profiles, but these are mixed. It's more about the blend of notes."

"Who knew there was so much to coffee?" I joke, picking up one of the cups of dark liquid on the counter and smelling one.

The warmth of her body is close as she reaches up and guides my hand back down, handing me a cup of the unground coffee beans instead.

"What is it meant to smell like?" I ask after a sniff and it widens her grin, my hands gripping into the cup a little tighter.

"Tasting coffee is about your nose just as much as your tongue," she says and I resist the urge to look at her lips. "But, it's boring," she breaks away.

She takes the dirty coffee cups and starts to wash them clean, only then do I notice the small grinders and bowls of beans all perfectly lined up in a row. Glass carafes that almost look like beakers from a science lab are lined with paper filters.

"We can watch a movie if you want?" she asks without looking back.

I pick up a notepad filled with scribbled words all over the page: Chocolate, blackberry, bold, rich, spicy.

"It's not boring," I tell her, not wanting to spend my time with her looking at a screen. "Teach me?"

Lucy's hands stop washing the cups and she  looks at me like I just suggested we jump off a cliff.

"Why?"

"Why not?" I chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

This is the Lucy I remember; closed off, cold, guarded.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and pulls at the ties of her robe again.

"Please," I whine, taking her hands and dragging her back to the island benchtop.