Harrison Osterfield x Holland sister!Reader (Enemies to Lovers!)
Summary: There has always been a constant clash between you and your brother’s best friend, but suddenly it was getting harder to hate him... Why?
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Things were weirdly quiet after the incident at Tom's birthday. It occurred ike most of the family members had declared some knd of proxy war against each other. Tom was mad at you. He hadn't talked much since then. Mum was mad at Tom. She was utterly disgusted by how drunk her son was. And Tom blamed his drunken state on you (and Harrison). If you both weren't fighting like animals all the time, he won't have gotten drunk and spatted on by Nikki. Tom's personal reasoning reinforced his contention with you, so Tom was double mad at you.
Now you knew how others felt in the family. There's this weird dark thing lingering in the house when people aren't on good terms. That's exactly what your and Harrison's hatred must have made all of them feel all these years. But there was one more thing you were worried about apart from all this and again it included Harrison Osterfield. Involved much more straight-forward-ly.
When Harrison was leaving for his home after dropping the drunk, out of senses, fast asleep Tom Holland, he caught your eyes and smiled at you... Almost like you both were no longer enemies. And you grinned back at him. And then he left. The interaction left you with something melting within you and thinking about that made something freeze inside of you. Ugh...
And those butterflies were still there. And that fight or flight response. Damn. You had to choose one. You settled on the flight for the moment since Harrison Osterfield texted you... for the first time in a lifetime.
Just the next day's evening after Tom's failed birthday, two messages popped up in your notifications. Both of them belonged to Harrison. You would be absolutely fine if it was just one message because in that case, you would have directly read what he sent you through the notifications. But now when there are two messages, the fucking stupid phone chose to display '2 new messages' instead of the fucking message on the notification panel. And in no good day, you were going to open them and get a 'seen' tag below them. So you just swiped it off your screen, muted his notifications and ignored it.
Easy.
Not easy.
Harrison was standing right in front of you on Monday morning (four days after Tom's birthday). He was in your clinic, staring at you, asking you if he could sit down.
"Why are you here? If you want to talk, talk at home. Not here. It's my fucking clinic." You scolded him but he raised a middle finger at you. You were about to throw him out of the room if... only if... there wasn't a big ass, ugly burn blister on his middle finger, exactly above of where he wore his platinum ring.
