Frozen Hands [h.s.]

six

A/N: Hi! If you read and enjoy this story, please vote for it to help this book grow! It would mean a lot, thank you (:

LAURENCE'S POV

After my extremely embarrassing panic attack, Harry and I go back to the kitchen so he can finish eating.

"This is actually really, really good Laur," Harry tries to say, his mouth full. He swallows his dumpling before talking again.

"Is it okay if I call you that? Laur?"

"Of course!" I agree. No one really calls me Laur, most people either call me Laurence or Lau. "I like it, it's different."

I like Harry. He seems down to earth, which is nice since he was one of the world's most famous human being. He didn't judge me for my panic attacks, nor did he insist on knowing the details, which I liked.

"Hey, how about while you finish that up-" I point at his second serving of soup, "I go find you a clean shirt to wear?"

"I'll come with you, I'm really full anyways. Those chicken and dumplings were amazing. It really felt like my mum had cooked them herself," He grins, his two dimples in full display. He looks so cute with his man-bun and dimpled smile.

Once we are back in my room, I start rummaging through my drawers again while Harry enters the room, tripping over some shoes that are laying on the ground and dramatically falling on my bed.

"Are you okay?" I laugh. He hasn't moved from his spot, he just stays there with his face in my black pillows, groaning loudly.

"Yep, I'm fine, nothing happened okay?" He pouts. "Hey, I'll help you find a shirt for me."

I nod, not turning around. I hear a few drawers being opened then closed, then silence. I turn around and see Harry cheekily looking at my bras and panties.

"Harry, stop that!" I blush furiously, snatching a pink bra from his hands.

"I couldn't help it, I just opened it and they were on full display!" He defends, smirking slightly. Immature little shit. I turn my back from him, faking being mad.

"Come on, don't be like that, Laur." Harry spins me around and makes me look up to him. He pouts, his big eyes squinting as he tried to give me a sad puppy dog face.

"Fine!" I declare dramatically. "But now, you double-owe me."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. I made you supper and you went through my underwear," I point out. I don't really care, even though it is slightly embarrassing. I just have something in mind that I really, really want to try on him.

"Well, you did spit on me, but since you cooked for me, yeah, I guess I do owe you one."

"Okay, I was thinking that you comply to what I say and I give you my phone number," I suggest.

"How is that fair? You get to choose what I do and I get your phone number? Don't you win two times, there?" He argues.

"No, because you originally wanted my number, remember? So it's a win-win situation," I fire back.

"Fine, what did you have in mind," He sighs in defeat.

"I'll give you two options. Either I straighten your hair, or I french-braid your whole hair." I giggle.

"What? No! I won't allow you to do that!"

"Fine, then you won't get my phone number." I don't know what takes over me, this flirty personality kind of coming out of nowhere. I am usually a very reserved and shy person.