My Boss's Proposal

Chapter 12: An easy question

Claire's Pov

My cheeks are ice, my nose is ice, my chest is ice, my entire being feels like it's being constricted by something frozen. God, it's freezing out here. I now wished I had been less angry and a little more wise when I left, grabbing maybe a jacket, a scarf, or something before I stormed out. Though I'd rather be out here, in a dark freezing park, than be back at home. I don't necessarily know how I got here, I just know that I'm here now and that I'm still murderous.

I cried as much as my body would allow me to, before eventually I was just numb to it. The below freezing temperature might have helped with that, it may have also been what lead me to this god-forsaken park. I hadn't been here since I was 10, and though this is the last place I'd thought I end up in, here I am. The bench I sit on is old, really old. It's creaking, the paint is chipping off and it smells like mold.

But like I said, I'd rather be here.

I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket again and I finally make the decision to turn the ringer off altogether, I've heard it enough tonight. It doesn't stop me from sneaking a glance, seeing his name on the screen. I scoff a little bit, I still have his number saved as 'Mr. Styles.' I have the will power to resist calling him, to resist giving into him. I mean what is he going to do if I don't, fire me?

It all seems like a big blur, one big big blur. I came here putting up with him, just barely being able to handle him. It's been what, a day? And he, he made me feel, like this?

I love you, Claire.

I cringe, tightening the sweater closer to my body. Why....why is that so nice to hear? I don't want to enjoy the fact that he loves me. Maybe I enjoy it because I'm the one with the power, I'm the one who has control because I have something against him. But then, I have to ask myself, do I want to use that against him? I don't like the idea of using him in a weak state, not any more at least.

I don't want to do what he did, use something he has or wants against him, I just can't bring myself to it. Life with Harry in it, is a big game of if's and why's, if something happens, why does it happen. Why does this happen, if he feels like this.

There's never, ever a certainty, not with him.

*A couple months ago*

"Claire," I hear from his desk, lifting my head up to see him biting at the end of his pencil again. He stares at a manuscript with a torn look, ruffling his hair a bit.

"Yes?"

"Can you, read this?" he questions, lifting the page he was reading from the stack and handing it to me. I get up from my seat and take the page from his hand, skimming over some highlighted paragraphs. "I'm just, not sure this is, what I expected from this author."

"All authors get in a bit of a schlump sometimes," I comment, wincing at the choppy sentences and mis-uses of grammar.

"Schlump?" he questions, with a small grin. I allow a small smile to appear on my own face.

"Schlump," I confirm, handing the paper back.

"Well, this guy has never been in a schlump before," he murmurs.

"First time for everything, if you don't think it's great then send it back, tell them what needs to be done, that is your job," I remark, rolling my eyes. He smirks.

"Ah, I love it when you get that 'bite me' attitude," he clicks the end of his pen, leaning back in his chair. "Bloody hot."

"Bloody?"