Happenstance [H.S.]

4

For God's sake, I was panicking.

-For fuck's sake. – I vented. – I'm such a fucking idiot. – I kept venting. I didn't even ask him how many people were coming for dinner tonight and I felt completely blind. Calling fucking Mr. Styles would be my last option, his presence makes me go crazy and do stupid shit.

My father entered the kitchen and I sighed in relieve.

-Papa, I need your help. – I snorted. – How many people are coming to dinner tonight?

-Didn't you ask Mr. Styles? – He frowned. – I have no idea.

-What? How come you have no idea? – I grumbled.

-He told me I could have the night off. – He raised his eyebrow. – You're going to cook, right?

-Yes!!! – I almost screamed.

-Just ring him, he's in the studio, I'm sure he'll pick it up. – He smiled. – I am really happy he's giving you this opportunity.

-Can't you call him for me? – I took a huge gulp on my iced water trying to cool down my thoughts. – Please? – I pleaded and he nodded. Almost thought I saw some worry trespassing his eyes, but obviously I am not able to distinguish any emotion on my distant father's face, especially when I am in the middle of this nerve wrecking situation.

My father called him from the kitchen phone and told me it would only be two persons. I was relieved and started preparing the mise en place so the anxiety wouldn't take me over later.

Carefully, I cut the buffalo mozzarella in slices, but then again someone interrupted me:

-Hi! – He saluted with a big smile. Those fucking dimples... Why are you here so early?

-Hello! – I said back glancing at him and getting back to the mozzarella. I could tell he has just showered because of his wet curly hair falling on his forehead. He had changed into a light-weight white T-shirt and some black shorts. Even though I thought he looked amazing, I was sure he would be changing into one of his characteristic suits later.

-What can I do? – He leaned on the kitchen island and I almost chocked on admiration.

-It's fine. Thank you. – I was able to smile. – It's going to be good, don't worry. – I started slicing a tomato but kept talking. – Everything'll be ready on time. You can go change. – I assured him always looking to that precious tomato that probably resembled my blushed cheeks.

-Do you think I need to go change? – He questioned me, almost offended with my comment. Fuck, fuck, why don't I just shut up?

-No, I mean, I thought, but no, you look great... - I stammered for a change.

-So, you think I look great? – His smirk made an appearance on his plumped lips and then he licked them the way he always does.

-No! – I quickly said and regretted it when he pouted. Again, without thinking, I added: - I didn't mean that. Obviously, you look... - The smile and the dimples were there again. He was fucking playing me which made me very confused. – You look... Hm. You look... yeah... good. – I finally said and started slicing a new tomato.

-I also think you look great. – His rusty voice said. My cheeks were on fire, leaving me unable to speak. – You do. You really do. – He came closer and took a tomato. My gaze followed him while he was opening all the drawers. – Can I have a knife?

-The third drawer on the first counter. – I simply said. He was next to me and for whatever reason wanted to assist me.

Nadja came to the kitchen and asked where she should set the table. Mr. Styles told her to do it outside just like the other days.