It's just an article {h.s}

Chapter 12

I spend the next 15 minutes frantically cleaning my apartment, which is definitely not as clean as I would like it. Sure, the apartment definitely could be in worse shape but I would rather it be a little tidier when Harry arrives. I've never claimed to be the cleanest person, I mean I'm not a slob by any means but I'm certainly not a neat freak like my mother. And when I'm stressed about a project for work my apartment suffers. I tend to focus so much of my time on work that I neglect certain household chores like vacuuming.

I still can't believe that Harry's coming over to my apartment. It feels weird to think about even though it's not his first time visiting, and I find myself feeling mildly nervous. You'd think after spending a weirdly large amount of time with him over the last 2 weeks I'd be feeling calm now, but no I'm still slightly freaking out.

Maybe it's because, for some reason, tonight seems different to every other time we've seen each other and I'm almost clueless on how to act. This is the first time I've purposefully sought out his company without having an ulterior motive first. During the night of his concert I still had that voice in the back of my head telling me that this was a job and that I was only talking to Harry for an article. The bookstore doesn't count either because, even though thoughts of finding information for the article were the furthest thing from my mind, I ran into him by accident. Tonight is different. I asked him to come over to my place and for some reason that makes the whole thing that much more scary.

But even though I'm scared, I genuinely want to spend time with Harry, so I'm stuck in this conflicted, contradictory state of being excited but also freaking out. Which is stupid, Harry and I always seem to have a good time even when I'm feeling crappy and I have no reason to believe tonight will be any different but...what if it is? What if for some reason tonight's awkward?

Luckily a knock at the door grabs my attention before my panicking can spiral any further.

"Hi." He says, with an awkward wave as soon as I open the door.

"Hi...um thanks for coming." I say, moving out of the way so he can enter the apartment.

As soon as Harry enters my apartment my anxiety begins to fade. It isn't awkward like I feared it would and conversation flows easily like it always does between us. Harry somehow manages to make me feel comfortable even when I'm feeling uneasy or nervous and it never stops surprising me how someone I've only just met can ease my mind like Harry does. I don't know why Harry has this effect on me. I've never felt this comfortable with someone so quickly, especially after Patrick, so it sort of takes me aback.

We talk for ages before I start to get hungry and quickly realise that I haven't eaten since lunch.

"I'm starving. Have you eaten yet?" I say, as I stand up from the couch Harry and I were sitting on.

"Um..no, I was at the studio all day and didn't get time."

"I'll make some dinner then."

I've always loved to cook, and after living alone my passion for cooking really grew. Because I try to avoid takeout as much as possible, I cook a lot, which doesn't bother me one bit. Take out is always filled with so many preservatives and a ridiculous amount of added sodium, which is not a healthy diet to live off. Not to mention that it quite literally runs your wallet dry. In all honesty though, even if take out became the picture of good health I'd still choose to cook. There's just something so homely about cooking, a feeling I don't usually get living alone, so it's something I really hold onto.

"How about Minestrone soup?" I ask, realising I have the ingredients to make one of my favorite meals.

Minestrone soup has always been a favourite dish of mine. Even though I'm not Italian, my family would constantly make minestrone soup. I think it first started when my father had invited investors over for dinner. He was just starting up his business at the time and had invited these wealthy Italian investors over to try and work out a deal. Of course my mother thought it would be a great idea to make a classic Italian dish to impress them, and while I'm not sure if it worked, six year old me fell in love with the dish. Ever since then it has become a Khoo family staple.