Harry H.S

three

The smell of pancakes filled my nostrils, I'm not surprised that she cooked breakfast but more so surprised that she woke up earlier than me. I sat up from the bed, before rubbing the sleep off my eyes and lazily standing up and walking to the living room and going straight to the couch laying down to sleep once again.

"Good morning," my eyes widened, alarmed by the new voice.

Sitting up, and grabbing the pillow next to me. "What the hell," I screamed, staring at the same guy who helped me get into my apartment yesterday.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment," I screamed, ready to throw the pillow.

"What the hell are YOU doing in MY apartment," he laughed teasingly, I looked around to find him right. I am not in my apartment.

Everything was different, it was messy, littered with opened boxes that had cd's and books stacked up inside. The couch I was on was worn out blue, an unwashed plate and coffee mugs scattered on the coffee table. A folded blanket next to me, as the home screen of COD plays on the tv.

"Oh," I placed the pillow down next to me gently, flashing him an awkward smile.

"I sang you a song and instead you slept on my singing," he playfully pouted at me, before turning his attention back to the pan.

"I was trying to wake you up but you were being a little bitch and kicked me in the groin," he said, "and I was not about to carry you to your room, that's just weird," he continued.

"Here eat up before you go," he told me, passing me a plate on the kitchen island. I whispered a light thank you before standing up and sitting on one of the tall chairs that was placed by the island.

"We didn't do anything right?" I asked, just wanting to make sure.

"Oh god no, I am not about to go to jail. I slept on the couch," he admitted, both his hands raising as if a gun was pointed at him, before pointing on the couch that had a neatly folded blanket and a pillow.

"Thank you," I mumbled, before eating a spoonful of the pancake.

"Syrup?" he asked, as I shook my head no.

I swallowed the pancake, "coffee?" he asked. I nodded my head yes, "thank you for everything," I whispered, accepting the coffee.

"Not a problem," he winked.

Silence laid upon us. We ate comfortably, I eyed him up and down studying his outfit as he ate in front of me standing. His hair was messy, his torso adorned a worn out grey band tee shirt, and some plaid pajamas that lay low on his hips.

"Stop checking me out, it's uncomfortable," he admitted, his lips in a sly smirk.

I turn away blushing. "I was not," I whispered.

"Yeah sure." Minutes passed before I was finally done with my food.

"I should head back," I muttered, before standing up, "I'll wash the plates," I told him, ready to go by the sink.

"Don't worry I got it," he said, shaking his head as he grabbed the plate from me.

"You sure," he nodded his, shooing me to his room to the window.

He walked me to his room, towards the open window where I went through last night. I took a step over to the fire exit, and was fully out.

"Thank you," I thanked him yet again, he was about to close the window when I stopped it with my hand.

"Wait,"

"I never catched your name," I asked, in which he smiled.

"Harry Styles, and yours," he grinned.

"Elizabeth Grant," I answered, smiling back at him before nodding my head.

He was yet again about to close the window, before I stopped him.

He looked up laughing, wrinkled appeared at the corner of his eyes, "what now," he laughed lightly.

"What time is your gig," I asked, smiling. "From eight to nine tonight," he answered, I nodded my head again. He bit his lips looking at me, waiting for me to probably fully leave.

"Is that all," he asked, still smiling. I nodded my head ready to leave.

"Wait," he let out a playful groan, as I called him for the last time.

"I wish you the best of luck with your career," I smiled, before actually leaving him and entering my own room.