Buttercup [H.S]

Chapter Five

My two days off seemed to drag by as they always did. I caught up on baking for the stall, deep cleaned my kitchen, started and finished a new series on Netflix and emptied an old bottle of gin left over from last Christmas.

And much to my surprise my week at the Market trudged on with far less conflict and maiming than I'd expected.

For the most part, after his little one man Motörhead tribute act, Harry had stuck to his word and endeavoured to stay out of my way. As much as he could do, working two feet to my right.

We'd managed to only fall into a handful of "heated disagreements" - as I'd so fondly named them after Lucy had described us as having it out like a couple of old fish wives in the street.

Things had gotten particularly fiery Wednesday afternoon after I had accidentally tripped on Harry's speaker cable at the back of his stall, knocking the plug out of the wall -without noticing, of course.

Jimi Hendrix's Voodoo Chile had come to a startling halt mid solo, and for the life of him Harry just could not figure out what had happened to his speakers.

At least not for fifteen minutes. All of which I'd been tucking my lips into my mouth to withhold my laughter, watching as he raked his fingers through his fluffy hair in frustration.

Once he'd found the route of the issue he immediately stormed to our adjoining wall.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at, Buttercup?" He asked quietly through clenched teeth but feigning a polite, cute inflection. I think he was keeping his tone down in front of the customer who was waiting on a latte and scone a foot away from him.

"Working," I shrugged as I handed over the customers order. "You bored or something?"

I noticed his shoulders tensed as he clenched and unclenches his fists at his sides.

"What's up?" I had asked again, leaning my arms against the waist high partition making him back away from me. "You stressed that your little music box is broken?"

"You fucking unplugged it you lunatic!" He spat louder once we were alone.

"Harry!" I gasped, pretending to be offended. "I would never. I may have tripped over some wires trying to turn on my fridges earlier, but if I did it was all an accident."

I couldn't help the grin from creeping up at my face from his reaction, he really was fuming. He looked at me incredulously, his eyes darted all over my face as if I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had, I felt a little giddy and unhinged at getting such a rise out of him.

"You know what, whatever," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. I'm sure I saw him counting back from ten in whispers. "Just don't touch my stuff again."

"Wouldn't dream of it." I chimed back as he gives me an unbelieving glare.

"Do you really have to plug it back in though?" I asked. "The peace and quite is kind of nice don't you think?

Turns out Harry didn't agree, because he's spent a lot of the last few days playing some choice songs, and the intent isn't entirely lost on me.

Evil Woman by the Electric Light Orchestra being one that particularly stood out.

Literally the lyrics "Evil Woman" on repeat blaring out of his speakers really seemed to lift Harry's mood. He played that one twice.

Eventually the rest of the vendors had caught word of Harry and I's heated disagreements and also began taking great joy in some of Harry's musical choices, making Gavin and Rafferty in particular burst in to laughter as I grimaced and flipped Harry off over our wall.