If It's What You Want A Harry Styles Fanfiction || h. s.

Chapter 34

Harry held Ashley's bag and the carryout container while Ashley dug the house key out of her purse. Once inside, she took the container to the kitchen while he took her bag into the bedroom. She was putting the kettle on to boil and setting out cups for tea when he walked into the kitchen.

"Can I help?" he asked.

"Actually, yes. I have this really sore muscle here in my neck," she said taking his fingers and placing them at the point where her shoulder and neck came together. "Would you massage . . . hm . . ." Her words fell off as he began to move his fingers against the tension knotted in the spot.

"How's that?"

"Amazing."

"Am I hitting the spot?"

"Absolutely." She stood still in front of the kitchen counter waiting for him to finish. She started to move when he let go, but he pulled her close to him and replaced his fingers with his lips.

"Better?" he asked after several seconds.

"You cannot imagine," she said turning to face him.

"Good. I've got this," he said turning off the boiling kettle. "Go have a seat and relax. I'll let you know if I need anything."

"Thanks," she said kissing him on the cheek.

****

When he walked into the living room with the tray, Ashley was stretched out on the sofa sleeping. The cups rattled against the saucers as he was attempting to lower the tray to the coffee table. Ashley opened her eyes and frowned.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Guess I'm not cut out to be a waiter."

She sat up and pulled the elastic from her hair. "I've got to take out my contacts. I'll be right back," she said.

While she was gone, he removed the teabags and took the small plate back to the kitchen. When he returned to the living room, Ashley's cell phone was ringing. He picked up the phone intending to take it into her but decided against it when he saw that it was her mother.

"Was that my phone?" she asked as she walked toward him.

"Yes. Looks like it was your mother."

"Perfect. Go ahead while it's hot," she said gesturing toward the tea. "I'll be back in a minute."

Although she closed the door to her bedroom, her voice was loud enough that he recognized an occasional word despite his attempt not to listen. He turned on the television to drown out the sound not wanting to infringe on what she obviously deemed private.

The sound of the television did not mask the loud thwack that came from her room a few minutes later.

"Ashley, may I come in?"

"It's okay. I'll be out in a moment."

"You're upset. Let me in."

"Harry . . . it's open," she said resignedly.

She was walking across the room when he opened the door. Her cell phone lay on the floor where it had obviously fallen after having been flung across the room. Shards had fallen from the broken glass of the frame hanging on the wall.

"I'll get a trash bin. Put some shoes on before you get cut," he instructed.

When she came out of the closet, he was picking up pieces of glass and dropping them into a paper bag sitting inside the plastic lined bin.

"Our carryout bag is coming in handy," he said over his shoulder. "You want to talk?"

"I'm not sure. I'll go get the broom and dustpan."

Before she could get back, she heard the string of expletives come from the bedroom. Harry was sitting on the floor holding the palm of his hand between his fingers. "Jesus, Harry." She raced into the bathroom and grabbed a clean towel. He was already on his feet when she slipped the towel under his hand and led him to the bathroom. "Here. Stay over the sink. Let me see." She pulled his fingers away and stuck his palm under the water. When she looked at the cut, she could she the glint of what she thought was a sliver of glass.

"Hold on. I think you've got something in your palm." She grabbed tweezers, some cotton balls, and hydrogen peroxide. She poured the solution over the tweezers and steadied his hand. "Let me know if this hurts," she said smiling at him. He nodded looking away.

Harry felt the pressure and a brief stinging sensation followed by cool water. "I'm going to clean this up and see if you need stitches."

"How do you know so much about cuts?" he asked.

"Did you forget I work in a restaurant?"

"Right," he said looking around her to see his hand. She was gently pressing the cotton ball against the length of what seemed to mostly be a break in the skin.

"What happened?"

"I guess a piece of the glass hung on the top of the bag. When I put my hand back into the bag with more pieces of the glass, it caught."

"First rule, never stick your hand into anything after putting glass inside of it," she said smiling.

"Got it. Please tell me this isn't going to involve a trip to the emergency center."

"No. I wouldn't do more than put a Band-Aid on it if it weren't so long. The scratch has almost stopped bleeding, but I'm going to wrap it for now." In a while, you won't need more than something to cover that area where I pulled out the sliver of glass. You'll survive."

"Are you sure? I might need a second opinion."