off the record; harry styles

Chapter 4

The conversation from the day before hadn't gone too badly. Well besides the constant teasing. I would rather him think of me as a prude than curse me out. I guess you could call that improvement.

Baby steps.

I did keep thinking about it after I left though. It was in the back of my mind for the rest of the day.

I liked to play things by the book. My friends had always called me high-strung.  I just liked doing things a certain way. I wanted everything to be organized. I liked to follow things step by step. I hated when anything was out of place.

I never did much in college. I was the editor of our yearbook and newspaper. I was very involved in school in the sense that I was always there to take photos or write stories about things that other people had done.

I liked to be behind the scenes. It was easier to live through the experiences of others rather than my own. I guess you could call me cautious. I craved control. Anything with unknown variables always put me on edge.

That's why being around Harry put me in a constant state of nervousness. I never knew what he was going to do or say next. There was no control, but instead a constant state of unknown.

My best friend, Margot, was always trying to get me to do outlandish things even though she knew better. She always dragged me to parties and other social outings against my will. She was the complete opposite of me, always getting herself into trouble. I was the one who always had to save her ass.

I wasn't a prude by any means though. Not wanting to see my client naked on the job or smoke cigarettes with him did not make me a prude. It was me trying to be professional. I was hired to do a job, not waste time.

I had spent my whole life working hard to get to the point I was at now. I did everything by the book, and I was rewarded for it. There was nothing wrong with that.

So why was it eating away at me? Why did his words crawl under my skin? As much as I tried to forget them, they clung to me.

I spent extra time in the shower that night, trying to scrub myself clean from the words that picked at my skin.

-

It was like clockwork, I got ready and took a cab to his penthouse apartment like I had done the day before. Today I was wearing a black blouse with a matching skirt and blazer. I was confident that we would make some form of progress today.

That was until I stood outside the door of his apartment.

The sounds of a feminine voice were muffled through the door, but they were clear enough for me to know what they were.

"That bastard," I mumbled to myself.

He knew damn well that I was coming over today. Could he have not waited to have some girl over until after I left? For Christ's sake, it was eleven in the morning. Was that really the time of day for a one-night stand?

At this point, I had no reservations. I lifted my hand into a fist and banged on the door as loud as I could. That's what he deserved. If he couldn't respect our agreed-upon time then I wasn't going to respect him.

The god-awful noises continued. Her voice shrilled through the door, and I wanted to scream. Did she really have to put on such a show?

"Harry. Open. The. Door," I raised my voice and harshly knocked between each word. I was starting to get really pissed off.

That's when I noticed that he had a Ring doorbell. I guess the first two times I had come over I was too nervous to notice it. Or maybe it had just been installed. Who knows.