Endangered {H.S}

Three

I feel asleep at about 7:30 this morning and woke up at 10, jet lag was definitely hitting me. After only having 2 and a half hours of sleep, I got out of the comfortable bed, unlocking the door and walking down the hall. It seemed longer than it had last night, more doors seemed to be lining the walls. I walked down the staircase, turning to my right in hopes of finding the kitchen. When I turned the corner, I realized that it was not the kitchen. What I did find, however was a glass door with windows lining the wall it was on. I could see an at-home gym through the glass, and I also saw Harry, who was doing push-ups on the ground next to a weight lift bench. I was in utter shock as I stared at him. He was still shirtless, this time with basketball shorts wrapping around his legs. He looked good. Really good. I guess I didn't realize how lost I was watching this man workout until Avery came up behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I jumped at the sudden contact, a quiet, but still audible, scream leaving my lips. Harry looked up from his workout, finding Avery and I standing on the other side of the glass. He smirked, standing up and walking to the door. He opens it with a towel in his hand, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck and looks at Avery, still holding a little bit of a smirk on his face.

"Good morning, Mr. Styles and Ms. Tomlinson. I've just come to tell you both that Celeste made breakfast, it's ready whenever you are." Avery smiles and walks away, leaving Harry and I alone.

"Enjoy the show?" Harry asks and my cheeks heat up as he walks past me to what I assume is is the way to the kitchen. The kitchen. If I had gone the other way, I could have avoided this man.

I walk behind him, shaking my head with my arms crossed. We make it to the kitchen, the smell of pancakes filling the room. I'm suddenly reminded of my last day with my mother, which seems like so long ago, but it only happened to be yesterday. I sit down at the island in the kitchen, a woman who I assume is Celeste sets a plate in front of me and I thank her. Harry sits as far away from me as possible and I'm a little hurt. What did I do? I try not to let it bother me too much, but it's harder than I thought it would be. I've never been this way around a boy before. I've never had a boyfriend, never had my first kiss and I've never even had feelings towards anyone before. I've never been allowed to have one, Louis is a bit protective, to say the least.

We both eat our meals in silence, me only eating a small portion of it. I want to break the silence but I have nothing to say and I'm afraid to be shut down by the intimidating man sitting five feet away from me. I pull out my phone as I take a drink from my apple juice, texting Louis to ask what time he's coming over.

"All done, Sweetheart?" The kind lady known as Celeste asks me. I nod my head and thank her one last time before looking over to Harry. He's on his phone, not paying attention to anything around him. He seems angry. His fingertips move fast on the screen of the phone and he has a scary look on his face. Just as I'm about to ask what's wrong, his phone starts ringing and he answers it quickly. Not wanting to make it seem like I'm eavesdropping, I pull my phone out once more and scroll through some apps.

"Seriously? I thought I told you! I pay them $800 a night for mediocre sex, don't let them pull shit like this anymore! Goddamnit, Alan, you really make me want to shoot a bullet through your stupid ass head sometimes!" And with that, he hangs up the phone, leaving his plate on the counter and walking to the steps again.

"What was that about?" I ask Celeste as I walk over, starting to help her with the dishes.

"Ah, I don't know, Mija. His temper is out of control and he freaks out about the littlest things." She shakes her head, handing me a dish to dry with the towel in my hand. "And by the way, I appreciate the help. It's nice to have someone to talk to besides Avery, now." She smiles and I return the gesture, studying this woman's features. She's older, probably early 50s. She's short, a dark complection accenting her dark hair. She has an accent, but not like mine. Its beautiful, Spanish maybe? I'm about to tell her that it's really no problem when Harry comes back in, this time with a black shirt on his upper half and tight black jeans clinging to his long legs. He's putting his shoes on as he walks, looking over at me.