where it ends || h.s. {COMPLETED}

6

edited

maela

a week later . . .

"Ms. Sharp," Grace is at my door again, holding another vase of roses, this time a shade of blue. I stare at the vase in disbelief and bite my bottom lip, nodding towards the coffee table in front of me that already holds four different vases. Each vase carrying a different color. I raise both my eyebrows and let out a exasperated sigh. My God.

"Just-" I pause, but Grace is already stepping in.

"Put them here?" She points to the table and I breathe out in distress, nodding. She smiles warmly at me and I feel my cheeks getting warm, knowing she's indirectly teasing me. She's grown very knowing when it comes to me now, in this situation at least. She knows that ever since the first vase came in I've only been a flustered mess, my brain scattered with crazed thoughts. She bites into my brain and I snap out of it. "If you don't mind me asking, are these from your boyfriend?" she questions and I glare at her instantly, causing her to widen her eyes as fear strikes her face. "I-" she tries to back track but I roll my eyes.

"No, Ms. Heed, these are not from my boyfriend. Now if you'll excuse me," I gesture for her to leave and she catches on, scurrying to the door to exit in lightning speed.

As soon as the door clicks closed I drop the pen in my hand and place my forehead flat onto my keyboard, not caring if there is squares now dented onto my skin. He's been on it for the past four days, bringing me roses. It's sweet and all but now he's confusing me.

I thought this relationship that he is going for is all sex, no strings attached. But now he's sending me flowers? Maybe this is his way of persuading me, but it's just off-putting, I'm not sure how to understand him.

He's resisted calling me so I'm doing the same, but I've come to the conclusion that it's excruciatingly painful. How am I supposed to deal with someone when they are so reluctant to even communicate with me verbally?

I let out a shaky breath and stand up from my spot, walking around my desk and approaching the blue roses. My fingers skims the note card and I press my lips together tightly, seeing the same thing scribbled letters in a thick black pen.

-Styles

Sighing I put down the note card and head out to the break room, my feet carrying me to the door. It's when the door opens before I get there that I gasp in shock, seeing Brian standing at the door with a surprised expression on his face.

"Maela," he breathes and I blink at him.

"Brian, you scared me," I murmur and he smiles widely. Well, he's in a good mood.

"Listen, there's something I need to tell you, or ask you-" he starts but I frown at him, my mind hazed.

"Brian as much as whatever you need to ask me is important, I have a lot on my mind right now and I think that I've already done not only this week's work, but next week's work. I think I deserve some space," I ramble and his expression suddenly drops.

"But-" he tries and I glare in annoyance.

"Brian, please," I mutter and finally he gets it, holding his hands up and nodding.

I'm surprised myself that he had let me slide considering that he is my boss, but I take advantage of it and clench my jaw.  

I resort to not heading to the break room and backtrack into my office, grabbing my things and heading home with my brain flustered with many darkened  thoughts. This is nearly turning into a nightmare from all this stress. I just feel overwhelmed with everything Harry is doing to me. I'm sexually frustrated but to my displeasure I barely even realize it.

》

I wake up the next day with my alarm shouting at me to get to work and I groggily hit it, beginning to plan out my Friday. I'm going to go to work, over work myself, think, eat, work, think, and two hours before I leave Grace will walk in with another set of roses with the same fucking note card that what, says his last name? I'm surprised Grace hasn't figured it out yet, and I'm surprised no one else has noticed- especially Brian who seems to be on my case a lot since the party.

And here I was thinking things were getting exciting. Like my life was turning around with Harry fucking Styles. I know he's sending me flowers and all, and I have so much from him to thank him for since they are beyond gorgeous, but I don't know what he's trying to do and it's bothering me. I'm extremely impatient as of now and it's mind-boggling.

I shake my head at my bothersome thoughts and lug myself out of my bed to get ready.

By the time I'm done getting ready I'm out the door and into my office within a blink of an eye. I depressingly begin to finish more work to attempt to distract myself from the inevitable thoughts. Thankfully before I know it lunch is here and it's another hour before the next set of roses will come. The hour slowly passes by as I refrain from eating with the other women on this floor and I stuff another forkful of Yakisoba into mouth as I lean back into my warm chair, chewing slowly. I glance at the clock on my desk and I see that it's five minutes til three, the time that the roses should be delivered. I lean across the table and continue to eat, looking through the glass windows for any sign of Grace with the unmistakable flowers in a vase. My mind begins to wander suddenly, my eyes slide away from the glass windows and to a small speck on my desk, thoughts of what the next color of roses will be.

The first day it was white- which I have no idea how he knew that that is my preference of color in roses. Then Tuesday it was a pale pink, very beautiful and what I would call a childish cute. Wednesday was surprisingly a lavender color that my eyes bathed in with beauty, the roses full of desire. Then there was yesterday, a practically dark blue that is more on the mysterious side, yet still absolutely astonishing. All of them were the exact opposite of normal, red not being among the variety. Maybe today it will be red. Maybe..-

My mind snaps away from my thoughts as there is a sudden knock on my door, the figure unknown through the dark wood. Grace.

"Come in," I chirp, preparing myself to see if my hunch was correct, a natural red bouquet of roses.

But that's not what happened.

No, not even Grace is the person who steps in.

My heart is not ready to see him in the flesh walking into my office, a small bag in his hands, and a bouquet of all the four colors sitting on top of it.

He smirks at me.

"Ms. Sharp."

Vote please? (:

♡kaitlyn