~Close your eyes and picture the warmth of the sun on your skin... that's how being loved by her felt~
Harry Styles is a nepotism baby turned new father, left clueless with a newborn baby to raise, he is overwhelmed and under pressure. Matters are...
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"Hi, little darling." That familiar voice that makes me smile calls out from the doorway.
I push my bike down the cobblestone path, resting it up against the beaten brick of the wall.
"Hi, June!" I smile back, leaving it abandoned against the side of the building while I burst through the doorway with the cheesiest grin.
She smiles back at me, passing me off a white apron that she got made especially for me. In the top left-hand corner is pale blue stitching that letters my name just like every other employee.
Harry.
"You're very smiley this morning, Harry." She hums as she rests her hand on her back and watches for me to tie the apron behind my back. "What's gotten into you?"
"Nothin'" I hum, spinning around once my apron is tied and proudly displaying it to June. "Just excited, that's all."
"Well good." She mutters, ushering me out back to the kitchen like every other Saturday that I spend here.
Clapping my hands together, I head over to the sink and begin to fluff up the soap to clean my hands. "What are we making today?"
I know the answer to this, it's the same every week but despite this, I still always ask and June always grins back at me with her wrinkled cheeks warm and rosy.
"What would you like to make? We can do something different if you're getting bored?"
I think for a moment, rinsing off my hands and then meeting her at the perfectly polished countertop.
"No. I like doing the pink cupcakes."
She nods with happiness, before walking away. Heading over to her old fashioned stereo, June turns on her burnt CD of all her favourite songs.
The first one being; Vienna by Billy Joel.
"Well, alrighty then." She whispers with a smile. "Let's get cracking, little darling."
Spotting Sunday dressed in a pair of plaid pyjama shorts and a white tank top while leaning over the stove has me making a bee-line directly for her body.
Her skin looks so smooth and soft, the perfect amount of golden tan warming her. Her blonde hair is still waved with the night's sleep but she has pulled part of it back and pinned it with a small claw clip.
The last few notes of Billy Joel's: Vienna chime through the kitchen as she lightly hums under her breath and sways her hips from side to side.
"Hi." I whisper, pressing a kiss into the back of her shoulder as I come and stand next to her.
