Perspective

Chapter Twenty Six.

"Feast your eyes I've got something new
From up here can't beat the view
Just watch me now
Just watch me now
I got somethin' for ya
A little more for ya
You won't believe your eyes
Just watch me now"

***

Watching Harry strut around my kitchen in tight pink booty shorts that say 'Juicy' across the ass, wasn't how I thought I'd spend my Sunday morning but here we are.

As funny as I thought it would be to give him those shorts last night, thinking of it as some kind of pay back for making me wear his shirt that night, I guess I forgot who I was dealing with.

Because he is walking around with a kick in his step, like he's the hottest thing since sliced bread.

This really backfired.

When I handed him the shorts last night, he gave me a sly look as if he was accepting a challenge and I was too tired to decipher what he was plotting in that head of his.

Much to Harrys whining I did not sleep naked, you could have sworn I killed his non existent dog over how pouty he was over it.

I do not sleep naked, it's far too uncomfortable  for me. The more clothes the better.

He hasn't tried to kiss me again, or touch me at all really and I hate that, that's all that's been looping around in my head since I woke up.

Flashes going through my mind of the sounds of his panting and moans, how he felt - it makes my stomach tighten and I damn near chew through my cheek trying to make the thoughts go away.

Things were far easier when I wanted to kick him in the balls.

This feels complicated now.

And yet, when it comes to Harry he just makes it look so easy.

I honestly thought I'd be having more of a meltdown over this, I was so terrified of human contact for so many years that I thought I'd crumble if it happened again.

...What I wasn't expecting was that I would enjoy it.

What is wrong with me?

The shorts are a good distraction though, I've been cycling through trying not to laugh and not look at his ass - which he purposely keeps making sure is in my line of vision.

"...So, I was gonna make breakfast but uh, there's not really anything here - aside from toast, you want some toast?" He asks, looking at me over his shoulder from where he's stood for five minutes inspecting my essentially empty pantry.

There's usually not much food in the house unless it's for mum, or Gizmo. I usually don't have the energy to eat and if I do it's the bare minimum and easiest thing to grab.

I use to love cooking. But like with everything else I use to enjoy, I can't find it in me to care.

"I'm not much of a breakfast person - help yourself to whatever is there, thank you though"

Harry gives me a strange look, probably over the fact I was actually being polite and not sarcastic; but the minute I notice I've been staring at his mouth again I look at the counter where I'm sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar in the kitchen.

"What about you Gizmo? You want some breakfast?" Harry calls out, while he collects some bread and peanut butter.

Gizmo stares at Harry from where he's sitting just outside the kitchen, then grunts and gets up and walks off.