Ambition || Harry Styles

*43*

It's been a week since Harry walked back into my life.  And for a week, I have been avoiding him like the plague, only dealing with him on a professional note when necessary, despite how many times he tries to take me to lunch or touch my hand or ring my doorbell at night.

I don't know how to feel anymore, I need answers that I know he isn't going to give me, yet having him so close every day, seeing his dimpled smile and his fancy suits, watching him run a hand through his curls and that goddamn cross tattooed on his hand, sends me into a spin and I'm finding it harder and harder to stay focused on avoiding him.

Katie is concerned about my health but she understands how far I've come and although being demoted was a swift kick to the guts, it also means I leave my desk at 5 pm and the pressure I used to put on myself has almost completely dissipated.

I wanted to be like my father, successful and revered, but the pursuit almost killed me, and I've come to realise none of it ever made me truely happy.  Nothing until a green eyed man walked into my office at least; with a smirk that made my heart flutter and a tongue that shot electricity through my body and made me feel more alive than ever.

There's paper absolutely everywhere; on the floor, in boxes surrounding my little desk, in piles on my chair and on top of my keyboard, my colleagues around me constantly complaining about the mess.

For the past two days I've been trying to find a letter to a consultant that has been misplaced and could be in any of the six or seven boxes of archived documents that look like they have exploded in my workspace

I can see Harry walk up in my periphery, I saw him arrive at the office earlier, his usual greeting once again consisting of my brief smile and his disheartened face before I get back to doing whatever mundane task I need to accomplish for the day.

He looks incredible today, his suit wilder than usual with some sort of detailed embroidery all over it and I swear I saw his thumb nail painted black. He pushes the boundaries of our conservative workplace yet his charisma allows him to get away with it, no questions asked and without him looking like a clown or an attention seeker. 

"Alexa?" I hear him approach cautiously as I brush the hair out of my fluttered face, having had my head in a pile of papers with no luck for hours now.

"Hmm?" I hum in question, my eyebrows raised impatiently.

"I need to find a report that is in one of these boxes," he gestured to the bomb site that was once my cubicle.

"Sure," I say professionally. "Leave the name and I'll add it to my list." I try not to sigh and reassure myself that 5 o'clock is only five and a half hours away and being Friday, I don't have to come back again for two whole days.

"No, um, it's okay, I'll look for it. I'm not sure of the name but I'll know it when I see it," he says casually, picking up a couple of boxes. "I'll bring these files into my office," he adds and I count to four, my teeth grinding in annoyance.

"Harry, I need to find this file by 5 pm. I can't do that if you take the boxes," I plead with him not to fuck up my day this much and throw me a bone.

"You can sit in my office," he shakes his head without further discussion and I concede, just wanting to find this damn file and go home.

I walk in after Harry has taken the last box, my hands loaded with piles of paper and I drop them onto the meeting room table with the rest of the files.  At least in here, I can spread out a little more.

"Um, I have to go out for a couple of hours," Harry announces suddenly as he runs a hand through his curls and bites the inside of his mouth.

I frown at him in confusion as to why he just made me move everything if what he needs isn't urgent.