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

Chapter 46

"Hey, wow. Look at you!" he said admiring the transformation.

"I needed to . . ."

"It's okay," he said walking closer to her. "Ready for some of your aunt's potato soup?"

"My aunt's?"

"I called and asked if she had ingredients and time to make it because it would be just the way you like it."

"Then where have you been all this time?"

"Visiting with your uncle. He's a very interesting man, tells amazing stories."

"Did you talk about me?"

"Not with him."

"With my aunt?"

"I did."

"What did you discuss?"

"Honestly . . ."

"That should go without saying," she said cutting him off.

"Okay. We talked about recognizing your need to be alone at times."

Her eyes briefly grew wide before she turned to go to the kitchen.

"Ashley, I only wanted to know what you need when you feel this way."

"You couldn't ask me?"

"Would you have told me?"

That was a fair question and the answer was probably no, she thought.

"Probably not."

"I can't know what to do unless someone clues me in. Otherwise, we'll end up at cross-purposes even if I think I'm doing something helpful."

He was right. Was I purposely trying to sabotage his efforts? If he'd not left, I would have found something to argue about to cause him to go away. Hadn't that been the habit? Isn't that part of what caused the rift with Derek? The closer he tried to get, the more they'd spent time together . . . the more they'd argued over meaningless things.

"Ashley?"

"I'm sorry," she said shaking her head and refocusing her attention. "You are . . . I am . . . I don't mean to be complicated or make you feel like you're in the dark."

"Are you getting ready to tell me again how you tried to warn me against a relationship with you?" he asked.

"Probably."

"Ashley, there are ways of working through these things. You don't have to be fatalistic. You don't have to simply be driven by shit from your past."

"I know all of this, Harry. It's not like I haven't endured months and months of therapy to work and talk through all that's happened."

"Talking about it and putting it into practice are two different things. Are you open to practicing what you've learned?"

"I've tried," she protested.

"You've not tried with the right person," he insisted.

"How can you know that you're the right person?"

"Because I'm the only one who has cared enough to try to get to the crux of the problem."

"By talking about me behind my back?"

"By listening to what those closest to you can tell me," he reasoned.

"Is there a difference?"

"Ashley, if you want me to go away, just tell me. I'm not going to get into an argument with you or be sent away because of it. If you want to be alone, say so."

"Then go. I want to be alone."

"Sweetheart, do not send me away like this."

"Just go," she said turning her back to him.

When she heard the door close, she grabbed one of the tea cups and slung it at the door.

Harry had not yet walked away when he heard the crash. His hand simply wouldn't release the door knob. He ran his other hand through his hair and walked to his car. "Damn," he said to himself.

He walked back to the front door and opened it causing the ceramic shards to drag across the floor. "Ashley," he called out. "Ashley," he called again walking into the bedroom. There she sat on the bed with her legs pulled up to her body and her head on her knees.

"Jesus, Ashley! What the hell do you want?"

She looked up at him and wiped at the tears. "I don't . . . want you to . . . leave. I don't want to start an . . . an argument. I just . . . I don't know . . ." she said between breaths.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to know. We just work at it as we go. We need only to communicate, to be honest with one another." He walked to the bed and sat down close to her. "Do you believe me?" he asked taking her hands in his.

"I want to believe you, Harry."

"You have to decide whether you're willing to have faith in me. I know you feel you're stepping out on a limb. I am right there with you. We have to trust one another." He kissed both of her hands before pulling her onto his lap. She cuddled into him and rested against his body.

After several minutes, he pushed her away from him so that he could see her face. "If you want to wash your face, I'll go rewarm that soup. You need to eat."

"But we need . . ."

"After you eat," he said.

She climbed off his lap and went into the bathroom. Harry took a deep breath, pushed back his hair, and went to the kitchen.

"Ugh," she said to herself when she saw her reflection. She turned on the faucet to let it warm while she changed into a loose sweater and ripped jeans. Before washing her face, she pulled her hair into a bun and wrapped it in an elastic to hold it in place.

Feeling a little calmer, she went to the kitchen.

"Better?" he asked raising his eyebrows hopefully.

"We shouldn't do this when I'm sick. It's not really fair."

"For who?"

"For me!" she responded. "You have the unfair advantage."

"Sweetheart, I need an advantage with you. Now, be a good girl for me and eat this soup."

Harry followed Ashley to the sofa where she sat down and crisscrossed her legs. "Here you are," he said handing her a dishtowel and the hot bowl of soup. "Would you like some water?"

"I'd like a glass of wine. I deserve a glass."

"You know that can't happen. You are taking medication."

"You are worse than my aunt," she said pouting.

"I'll make it up to you later," he whispered into her ear.

How could his whispered words create such a feeling?

He watched the pink creep into her cheeks and smiled to himself. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"No."

"Why not?" he asked running his hand up the inside of her thigh.

"Stop that."

"I want to hear what's on your mind."

"I can't."

"Come on. I bet it's something really sexy," he said in his most sensual voice.

"Stop," she said pushing at his hand.

"Well, if that's what you want."

"You asked me to eat, but all you're doing is distracting me."

"You are right." He stood, straightened his shirt, cleared his throat, and asked whether there was anything he could get for her. When she haughtily waved him off, he took the bowl of soup from her hands and pulled her to her feet. "You are amazingly and frustratingly sassy." He kissed her firmly on the lips before turning and strutting away for her benefit.