The Nanny (Harry Styles)

Chapter 1

I continued to tap my pencil, only jumping slightly when the toast popped out of the toaster. Hearing the footsteps coming from the hallway I scooted in the chair to get out of her way. She rushed in, wearing the bottom half of her scrubs and her bra, her hair already half falling out of its bun. I reached out towards my own short hair, pulling the clip that held part of it back and out of my face, shoving it into her thicker hair as she quickly placed the toast onto a plate, turning towards the refrigerator.

"Morning, love." She said, only now registering my presence. She continued to scurry around while I hopped onto the counter, folding my legs to sit cross legged and bending towards the table to grab my notebook and pencil.

"How does one say 'having sex' nicely, without using the phrase 'making love'?" I questioned to her as she was now spreading strawberry jam onto the toast. She furrowed her eyebrows for a beat, tossing the knife into the sink, making a large clash sound throughout the flat.

"Exchanging bodily fluids?" She tried out slowly. Satisfied with this answer, she nodded. I scrunched up my face in disgust as she placed my own piece of toast onto my thigh.

"Thanks. We all can't be bloody doctors, Annaleise. I meant a romantic way. Think Fabio." I said, placing my pencil into my mouth, biting on it a bit, trying to rattle
some thoughts in my head. No such luck.

"Speaking of doctors; my shift is going to run late again tonight, so you may have to make do with take-away. Please do not try to bake a pizza, and almost ruin the entire kitchen, okay?" She says, now tossing the salad she probably pre made last night into the lunch bag that she had grabbed from the cabinet.

"I am 26 years old, Anna. I think I should be fine." I retort, hopping off the counter, tugging down my sleeping shorts. She glances at me from her spot in front of the freezer, now searching for an ice pack.

"I will believe that when you can microwave easy mac successfully and the fire marshal is not at our door." She says, giving me a pointed look before sticking her un-touched toast into her mouth and rushing out of the room, turning towards the door.

"Shirt!" I shout after her, jogging into the doorway before she walks out into the hallway and shows Mr. James what he has been waiting for since we moved in here.

"Christ." She mumbles, glancing down at her bare torso, handing me her bag to hold as she rushes back towards her bedroom to toss on the rest of her clothes. I hear a couple of things being thrown before she re-appears as I hold out the bag to her and she pecks my cheek as she swings open the door.

"Thank you, Lane." She says, now slightly breathless as she turns towards the stairs and I'm left alone.

* * *

I was sure I had seen this episode of Friends at least four times, but that really didn't incline me to move off of the couch to grab the remote and change it. I settled on trying to focus on my notebook instead, the blank lines glaring at me to write something, anything. Today was clearly an off day for me, so I gave up, setting it on the coffee table in front of me. I glanced at the wall above the TV; glaring slightly at Annaleise's medical degree, but glaring even more at the blank spot underneath it where my degree once hung, but had fallen last Tuesday thanks to my spotty hammering skills.

At 26, it seemed everyone that I knew was just getting started in their life. People were getting jobs after internships left and right, falling in love, having babies, going out and probably getting laid, and I was sat here on my couch watching Ross trying to wiggle out of some leather pants.

Someone should've told him leather pants are a trap.

I looked warily at the stack of job applications sat next to my notebook, trying to will myself to fill a few out. I had lost all motivation after being fired from the Pizza place down the road after spilling one too many cans of sauce. That was the fifth job in 2 months.