Killer Love

Chapter Eight

I shake my head. "I thought you were coming over at noon."

Styles smiles. "What time do you think it is?"

My eyes widen. "Shit!" I rush into the house where the clock is located. Twelve thirty-one. I run my fingers through the ends of my hair. "Oh, crap."

He walks inside, closing the door behind him. "I've been knocking and calling your cell. I thought maybe something bad happened or that you were blowing me off.

"What? No, I wouldn't do that. I just had a late night and I must have overslept, which I don't normally do. Come into the living room. Let me just get changed." I must look like crap.

I lead him to the sofa and hand him the remote control I haven't had a chance to use yet. "Make yourself at home. Uhh, there's food and drinks in the fridge if you want any. Bathroom is first door to the left."

He sits down and smiles. "Thanks."

"I'll be right back." I rush to my room and close the door. This is one of the very few times I've been caught off guard. I should have cancelled last night.

I rifle through my drawers and closet. It's bright and sunny, so that means heat. Thank goodness there's air conditioning in this house. I feel like Louis would have gotten me a place without some just to fuck with me.

I throw on a pair of black high-waisted shorts and a loose muscle tee and proceed to replace the bloody gauze with a clean one. I will have to disinfect it again later. After a quick brush-through of my unruly brown hair, I get a hold of my laptop and head back into the living room.

Styles is taking out stuff from his backpack and placing it on the coffee table. Before sitting on the sofa next to him, I make sure the knife stashed under it is still there. I feel the cool metal against the tips of my fingers.

I place a laptop on the table. "How long were you waiting outside for?"

"Not that long honestly. Are your parents home?"

"No. They're-um- on a business trip. They travel a lot," I lie, focusing on the screen in front of me.

"Do you have any siblings?" he inquires.

"Only child."

"Any pets?"

"Nope."

"Favorite color?"

"Blue," I say without meaning to. I turn to him. I can't let him keep asking questions. Who knows what I'll say.

"Good to know," he smiles. He does that a lot. Smile, I mean. I want to ask why he's damn happy all the time, but refrain from doing so.

You're going to kill him, I remind myself. Don't get too personal. Don't ask too much about his life. You know what the papers told you. You don't need it from the source.

"So, how are we doing this thing?" I inquire.

He shrugs. "PowerPoint seems the easiest. We can split up the information to make things go quicker. I want this done as soon as possible."

"You and me both," I mumble.

Styles and I work quietly next to each other. The only sound is the tapping of our keys.

"Should I put this picture in or this one?" he asks.

I quickly glance to his screen. "Whatever looks best."

"Okay." A pause. "What happened to your arm?" He trails his fingers on my skin and I flinch away. "Sorry."

I wish I had worn a long sleeve shirt to cover this up. "Just a small cut. Nothing too serious."