Midnight Angel H.S COMPLETED

14

Up on top of a large hill, his knuckles full of shining rings knocks on the yellow door, the paint chipping off.

He takes a step back, waiting for someone to answer the door. The pink walls of the house look quite gloomy in the moonlight. From the inside of the house, there's a familiar smell, similar to the bakery back in London. I hear someone come closer to the other side of the door before it swings open. "Harry! Honey!" The grey-haired girl shouts. I can tell her 'shouting' is just the way she speaks.

She has a turquoise polka-dotted dress around her rounded body with matching oven mitts, her wrinkles more defined as she smiles. "Pumpkin, hold my cookies."

Someone similar to her walks up behind her, taking her cookies. "Thank you, sugar plum." Her warm smile radiates onto me as this girl, the same age as me, smiles at the older woman who took the tray. "Harry, who do we have here?" She looks at me, a huge grin on her face. "Girlfriend? Finally!" She walks up to me and squeezes my cheeks, my cheeks going pink from her tight hold and from the fact she called me Harry's girlfriend. "Good to meet." She says in broken English, her thick accent filling the empty streets.

She looks over to Harry, who is bright red with, probably, embarrassment. He didn't seem to be the type with a warm friend. They don't look alike so I'm guessing she's not family. She squeezes his cheeks as she did with mine. Afterwards, she hugs him, squeezing all the possible terrible out of him. "Girlfriend must come too." She smiles, and pulls me in too, squeezing me tight.

"Come, must stay. I was just making the second batch of cookie." She leads us inside.

I enter the tight hallway with, I must say, bright blue walls with green diamond shapes under the blue- the yellow tint of the light makes the place look like warm gold. "Do you know how to make cookie?" She asks me.

Her loud, bubbly type somewhat intimidates me. Not because I'm scared, just because I'm not used to it. It's what I need after all that's happened during the past hour. I nod to her question. "Harry knows very well. Do yourself." She smiles. I somewhat smile at the fact Harry Styles knows how to bake. It's enchanting considering how barbaric he is.

She turns on the radio to some Spanish station then walks out of the snug kitchen so it's just me and Harry alone.

Baking at 1 AM?

I like her already.

I put on the spare apron from the peg in the corner and get out the bowel and freeze at the counter. I may know all the rules, but making cookie dough doesn't apply to any of them.

I look at Harry and I try to find words to say. How am I meant to explain that the daughter of the Bakery Associate doesn't know how to make cookies? "Get the flour." He huffs, his right arm flexed as he leans on the countertop. I stare blankly at him. How am I meant to know where anything is? I only knew where the bowl was because the cabinet was open. "The cupboard to the far right." He reads my mind. I follow his instructions before turning to him again. This could be fun if he doesn't act like a complete child. "Milk, butter, eggs, casting sugar." He lists. "In the far cupboard she keeps her recipes."

I nod and proceed to get out her recipe to start making the dough. The music makes me bop up and down to the beat as I put the ingredients into the bowl. I start simultaneously humming the tune due to how predictable the song is, focused on the food.

"You're dancing." Harry says. My heart pauses as does the rest of my body, my cheeks heating up to a hot pink.

"No... I-" I become lost for words and stop speaking.

Harry's smirk appears on his face. "Hazel Woods, you we-"

"Why do you always call me by my first and last name?" I ask out of general curiosity. And to change the subject but that's not important. Harry walks behind me, washes his hands and then stands beside me. I'm surprised he's choosing to join in. He takes off all his rings, which takes way longer than expected. Turns out Harry Styles owns a lot of rings.