Dirty Thoughts (l.s.)

Part 2

Seven months later...

It was a strange morning. Harry was nervous all day yesterday. The kind of nervous that deprives you of simple ways to make it better, like talking about it or accepting comfort. Harry went home after the diner with Louis, leaving the man on the curb with a sad smile on his pretty face. He must've known what it was all about.

The office was way simpler than Harry expected. Waiting room had some couches and a magazine stand with issues up to date. Not like in some hospital where nurses couldn't find a moment to care. The plant near the couch was very real as well (Harry checked) and the leaves were big and green. It made the man somewhat calmer, the notion of being in a place where somebody gives a shit.

"Mr. Styles," came a warm voice.

Harry stumbled away from the plant and realized that the door to the room opened and his future therapist was standing in the doorway now. Observing him. She was smiling, but the man didn't really notice.

"That's me," he answered dumbly.

He was the only one there.

"Please, come in."

She stepped back in and Harry took in a breath before following her.

"Take a sit wherever you want," she gestured to the room in itself and went to the big table in the corner.

Harry looked at the couch and frowned. Too comfortable. There were two chairs, one closer to the door. He took it.

"Give me a moment, I just need to- finally!" The woman stood up with the biggest smile on her face and a green pan in her fingers. "Lost it this morning, it's my favourite."

She took some papers from her table and put them into a notepad. When she turned back to Harry her eyes did a quick movement over his body and he felt a drop of sweat travel down his spine. She smiled and took a sit in front of him on another chair.

"So, my name is Lora, as Felicite might have told you already. I practice psychology for thirty-two years and this is my personal office."

He nodded in all the right places not really sure what to say at that.

"My name is Harry."

Lora smiled at that.

"Nice to meet you, Harry. So, tell me what brings you here."

They sat in silence for some time. It wasn't that Harry was trying to sit absolutely still. It was more about him being afraid to move in a wrong way. He was so occupied with trying to act normal that he completely missed the question. But then he was too nervous to ask and, well, answer.

"Do you want a biscuit?"

She pointed her pen to the tray of biscuits on the coffee table and Harry followed her movement frowning.

"No, thank you," he answered politely.

She smiled.

"Just thought not talking'd be more pleasant with something to chew on. I put mint in these ones, should be relaxing."

"You baked them?" Harry raised a brow.

"Sure, love baking," she nodded, moving her glasses up her nose.

The gesture came out so soft and reminded Harry of Louis, although he only saw the man wear his glasses like twice.

"I used to work in a bakery." It came out before he could stop himself.

Lora smiled brighter as if truly excited by that piece of information.

"Really? Baking is so relaxing, right?"