My New Boss || Harry Styles Fanfic

Ch 11

{Edited}

Two days. Two days have passed by and not a single word have I spoken to him.

Tonight was a regular babysitting night, and for a solid three hours I weighed out the pros and cons of going. Honestly, all I wanted to do was avoid him for as long as I possibly could. But I know very well that when I babysit I need to talk with him. I also need money for University.

So, here I was, sitting on the edge of the bathtub while Cleo washed her body, humming lightly. When she was finished she just sat in the water, hands swooshing around the bubbles that filled the confined space.

"Nardia," she says quietly, her voice gentle and tender. My thoughts of what I was going to do when Harry comes home halt, my eyes falling on her. She doesn't look at me though, just concentrates on her hands. "What's wrong with you? And daddy? You two are acting... weird." She says, small eyebrows pulling together as she speaks. With just the mention that Harry has been 'acting like me' tears well in my eyes.

I was so rude and it upset him a lot, him moping around. Because of me he can't spend time with his daughter, laughing and being happy. Guilt rises as I bite my lip, thinking of a response.
"I... did something very bad." I sigh before adding, "I hurt your daddy... a lot." I inform the young and very observant little girl.

Minutes pass before Cleo requests to get out. I hand her a towel to dry herself before helping her to get dressed. She jumps into her bed complaining about how tired she is as I search through her vast collection of stories. I decide on a classic Dr. Sues book; Green Eggs and Ham. Cleo smiles excitedly at my choice, tugging her covers up higher as she kicks her legs lightly.

-» -» -»

After reading Cleo the book twice I made my way to the living room, pulling my books from my bag to work on homework to pass time and keep my mind clear of fear of when Harry were to come home. I had decided that when he did come home I wasn't going to talk to him, just go straight home. Thankfully, I still had a solid hour, maybe more, before he was due home anyway.

Apparently, when you're scared and drowning with anticipation, time passes by rather quickly. Two hours seemed like seconds as the door to Harry's luxurious home is quietly pushed open.

How did I miss the car?

My heart beats faster as I tap my pencil against the page, lip being crushed by my teeth. I glance at him through my peripheral vision. He was clad in one of his expensive suits, an exhausted expression glued to his face as he kicked his dress shoes off. Without a word spoken to one another, he walks upstairs.

The entire duration he is gone my heart beats uncontrollably, a burning sensation erupting in my chest. He comes back down moments later in a pair of sweats, a white tee and a pair of black Converse. He doesn't look at me, doesn't speak to me, as he walks into the kitchen. I gather my things into my bag as I wait for him to come back.

Cupboards open and close before I hear the tap running. After a clash of glass against the metal of the sink he appears from the kitchen, standing in the door arch.

"Why? Why was I not good enough to acknowledge?" He asks curious and I bite my lip, eyes falling to the floor.

Shit.