Pure Feeling

limited addiction

Email from: Harry Styles (harry.styles@stylesinternational.com)

To: Sasha Ginsberg (sginsberg@waterhousedesigns.co.uk)

Sasha,

I hope everything is alright. I'm boarding to fly back to London and I still haven't heard from you about dinner.

H

CEO, Styles International

Harry's email caught me off guard. He'd left the ball in my court and I'd decided not to put it back in his. I had every intention of not getting in touch with Harry, with the hope he was smart enough to get the message without me spelling it out for him.

My problem was that I couldn't bring myself to say or type the word no. A no response put a stop to anything more between us. It shouldn't have mattered, given I was already determined not to sleep with Harry again, but somehow it did. I was caught in the web of possibility. The chance of more was shiny and bright, and I wasn't sure how Harry and I worked without it. Ever since we met it had been orbiting around us, the gravitational pull dictating everything between Harry and me.

"Sasha Ginsberg," I snapped, my irritation at the mess Harry and I had created seeping into my tone. I had no idea who was calling; I answered my work phone without glancing at the caller ID.

"Sasha, hi, it's Rachel!"

"Oh, Rachel, hi, sorry." I slapped my hand down on my thigh in frustration. Taking my annoyance out on others wasn't the solution. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes. I was actually calling about tonight. Harry's got a dinner scheduled in with you and I wanted to confirm you're attending so I can confirm the booking with the restaurant. They give his table to other VIPs if Harry isn't using it, that's all." I noticed her distinct lack of formality, as if calling him Mr Styles was null and void when I'd spent the night in bed with him. My stomach churned thinking about Rachel seeing me in Harry's bed, wrapped up in his sheet butt naked after a 5am fuck.

"I hadn't decided. I just got an email from Mr Styles... I don't know."

"Sasha, can I be frank?"

We had become friendly outside of work environments, but it didn't escape either of us that our friendship was new and our professional relationship was ongoing. Rachel's question and tone reflected that.

"Of course."

For a moment all I could hear was the sound of heels clacking, and when a door shut, Rachel finally spoke. "Harry doesn't do this. He doesn't schedule personal dinners with women... But here you are, affecting him so much he is blocking out his calendar in red. Red is for dating, Sasha, a colour Harry didn't want but I insisted on because there had to be some hope that Harry would find someone he wanted to spend time with."

"Mr Styles and I are not dating."

"Maybe not, but he has never scheduled red before, Sasha. That means something."

"Rachel, what you saw... It was a one time thing. We both agreed that it wouldn't happen again... I--"

"I'm not telling you to sleep with him," Rachel interrupted. "I'm saying that dinner is a good idea. Harry could always use more friends and if anything, you have to dine at Social Eating House once in your life. The venison is to die for."

Friends wasn't something I ever saw Harry and me being, but I agreed anyway. Maybe it was my self destructive curiosity, maybe it was the silly notion that maybe I could change the hard, controlling man. Deep down I knew I couldn't change him and that we would never work; I was too fucked up and he was too... He was too Harry. I was settled on the idea of dinner and another night in his bed if he proposed it. I couldn't form an attachment to him, and regardless of Rachel's thoughts, I didn't think Harry could form one to me either. Wanting to fuck me again didn't mean he had feelings, it meant we had chemistry.