Happenstance [H.S.]

3

Two days have passed since he offered me a cigarette. The work in the mansion has been going well (not perfect, but I was able to do it) so far. Yesterday I didn't see him at all and today he was having breakfast in the table outside and I was able to eye him through the kitchen window. Meanwhile I heard my father calling him Mr. Styles. His first name? Still had no I idea, but I must confess I almost Googled Styles to see what I could find on him. Mr. Styles was distracted on his brand-new laptop. Sometimes he would seem thoughtful resting a finger on his plumped lips. He wasn't wearing a suit anymore. Today he went for an unbuttoned blue shirt and yellow swimming shorts.

When completely aware that he was no longer in his room, me alongside my work colleague Nadja went to clean the master room.

Every single house I lived in would be able to fit only in the mansion's master room.

The wooden oaked floor perfectly contrasted aside the bright white from the walls. There were windows until the ceiling and by night you could count the stars if laying on the canapé that rested in the center of the room. A grand piano was on the left side of the sofa. 

Against the wall, on the right, there was a miraculous bookshelf from which I borrowed "The Notebook" from Nicholas Sparks. His king-sized bed was above a couple of stairs: it was ironically the highest part of the room and, you were able to close linen curtains and make a whole new division of it if you'd like to. No doors separated the closet or the bathroom from the rest of the room.

Even though the closet was surrounded by walls, there was a species of window between it and the bathroom. Intrigued, I peeked inside of one of the built-in wardrobe doors. Dozens of suits were sorted out by color and I struggled with the thought of having to organize them. Nadja did it before I started working here.

The bathroom had a walk-in shower with two sprinklers and his products were neatly displayed on the one from the right. His towels were hanging on the oval bathtub and he left the glassed doors opened making the white linen draperies move along with the soft breeze.

It was the most beautiful house I have ever seen in my life, looked like a portrait from a home decoration magazine.

Nadja and I were making the bed together and I was still able to smell the manly perfume coming out of it.

-You're too quiet today. – Nadja observed. – Did something happen? – She inquired.

-No. – I smiled politely. – Everything's fine. How are you today? – I changed the conversation towards her.

-I'm good. – She said while arranging a pillow. – Too much work. – She sighed. I couldn't blame her. She had to do the rest of the rooms by herself, I only helped her with the biggest ones since my help was also needed in the kitchen. – I still can't believe he owns this house.

-Mr. Styles? – I asked.

-"Mr. Styles"? – She laughed. – Are you on drugs? – I frowned confused. – Harry. Styles. Don't say Mr. Styles. – She kept laughing and I joined her. – He must be your age. – She added.

-I didn't ask his first name. – I cited the obvious.

-Didn't think you needed to do that gal. – Her eyes were bulging thanks to my excuse. – We work for fucking Harry Styles. People would pay to clean his shit.

-Well, I am very happy with my salary. In fact, - I lowered my voice in case someone was listening to our gossip. – I would be happier with a bit more. Cleaning his shit is not my thing. – I observed.

-Don't you think he's hot?

-What? – I laughed in shock; we didn't talk enough to know each other that well in order to appreciate our boss' physiognomy. – I think he's crazy. – I let it out remembered when he offered me a cigarette. Maybe you're even crazier because you accepted it, said my brain.

She threw a pillow on me laughing with incredibility and messed my hair up. At this precise moment, Mr. Styles entered his room and watched us. My body stiffened in his presence and I quickly put the messy hair behind my ears.

-Good morning Mr. Styles. – Nadja happily greeted. I glanced at her in confusion. Mr. Styles, hein?

-Good morning! – His eyes were on me and I had to stare to his bed realizing I was holding his pajamas on my hands since he entered the room. This was completely normal as me being a cleaner, had to fold his pajamas. However, my brain tricked me and made me drop the satin material I held in my hands and that certainly made me look even more stupid. I felt horrible around him. God, please tell him to leave, I mentally wished.

-Sorry. – I mumbled and started folding the pajamas.

-Shouldn't you be in the kitchen, Bennedetta? – Oh God no. No, no, no, no, please, not my horrible name.

-Hm. It's Benny. – I corrected him. – I'm helping Nadja cleaning the biggest rooms. – I enlightened him. I didn't feel like staring at that face, so I kept paying attention to the pajamas that I impeccably folded.

This silence was torture and as if it was not enough, Nadja went to the bathroom part to start cleaning it. Why am I still here? I fucking asked my brain.

He kept staring at me, then he seated in the perfectly made bed immediately ruining it and started searching for something in a box he had on his bedside table.

I was going to leave him alone to help Nadja with the bathroom, but he called me:

-Bennedetta? – I took a deep breath trying to relax, but it seemed worthless in his presence.

-Yes? – I looked behind.

-I want you to cook dinner tonight.

-Ok. – I nodded. – What about my... Mr. Maurizio?

-He's going to help you. – He clarified. – But I want you to be the head chef tonight. Your ideas. Your dishes. From starters to dessert.

-May I ask you why?

-Don't you want to be a chef?

-Do I want to be a chef? – I'm such an idiot. Suddenly a doubtful thought rested in my brain fearing for my father's work. – Aren't you happy with Maurizio's work?

-Oh, I am amazed with his work. – He smirked. Those dimples... - I just like to try new things. I want to taste your ideas. – Taste my ideas. I flustered and tried to mask it by taking my hands to my cheeks.

-Sure. Of course. – I swallowed. It felt like these were my last drops of saliva.

-Don't you want to know what I like... to eat? – I was taking his gaze on my eyes and my cheeks were on fire by now, so I kind of gave up trying to hide my red face. It was obvious that he was enjoying this too much, since he couldn't stop smirking.

-Don't worry. I will Google it. – I chuckled trying to run away from this situation.

-You're one of a kind, aren't you? – His tongue touched his plumped lips and once again, I glanced the ceiling.  

*

And here I am with one more chapter of Happenstance! Thank you to everyone I know who's reading it, I really appreciate it.

It would be amazing if you would leave your opinions on the comment section and please vote! 

See you Sunday.

-Brooke.