Desperate || Harry Styles Sugar Daddy Fanfiction

Chapter Nineteen

Harry's P.O.V

I groan, throwing the paper back onto the desk. No matter how hard I seemed to try, I could not get Leah out of my head. I just kept replaying her coming undone underneath me last night. I had no idea what she was doing to me but whatever it was had me feeling very uncomfortable and worried. I wasn't in control.

Lately, everything I thought of would be disrupted by the thoughts of a pretty blonde girl.

I tried to stop myself from getting too close to her, but it happened. I couldn't fight it. Every little thing that she did hooked me more. All her little quirks made me care for her a little more. And nothing that I tired could stop it.

I know that what happened last night held more emotions between the two of us than I cared to admit to myself at the moment. And I don't think she was ready to admit it either.

I had told myself from the very beginning that this girl was just a cover date, maybe a quick fuck, then never speak again. Then, she just made feel... I don't know. I just forgot about all the bullshit and just enjoyed the time I was with her. When I noticed that maybe I was slightly attracted to her I promised myself I wouldn't sleep with her, that I wouldn't do anything sexual with her because I couldn't risk falling for her. But I couldn't help myself. I just kept being dragged closed and closer to her. I had been trying to push her away but I couldn't, and every time I dive straight back in. Now, I was sucked into a hole I couldn't get out of.

I sigh as I throw the pen down onto the hardwood desk, holding my head in hands as I groan in frustration. These emotions were even more stressful than the piles of work that had slowly began to rise on my desk.

I lift my head reaching for the pen but stop as I hear the sound of my doorbell. I curse under my breath as I stand from desk. I really needed to work on the piles I had collected on my desk. As I continue to the door, the sour feelings washes away and a sense of hope floods in. Maybe it was her at the door.

I pick up my pace a little, hurrying to the door as I get excited to see her. There was a small part of my brain that cursed at me, trying to convince me that I wasn't excited. It tried to convince me that the only reason I had kept her around was because I needed entertainment. It tried to tell me that she meant nothing to me, but my heart seemed to overpower those thoughts as I continued, speeding up my pace a little.

Finally I stop at the door, trying to calm my speeding heart rate before reaching for the door handle. I twist it, swinging the door open.

When I see who is behind the wooden door, my heart drops and my breathing stops for just a second.

The tattered clothes that he wore were littered with holes that covered almost every inch. His beard was littered with a little more grey then I remembered. The hair on his head looked as though he hadn't washed it since he lived with us, let alone being brushed. By the way I could smell him from where I stood, it was clear it hadn't been showering either. His teeth were showing through the smirk plastered on his face. There was only small stubs sticking out from the gum, each coloured with browns and blacks.

You'd think, with the amount of money this scum bag had scabbed up over the years from drug dealing, his appearance would be much better kept. But then again, most of his profits went toward his own drug habits.

"Hey son," He greets in his usual croaky voice, pulling his lit cigarette from his lips. He lifts himself off of the door frame he once leant against before pushing past me and into my home.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"  I snap at the filthy man before me. My tone was cold, and I didn't even try for it to be. That's just what he brought out in me.