Chapter 3: I'm sorry by the way

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I shower as fast as I can, apply some foundation and mascara, and run back to the kitchen. Once there, I find Harry sipping on a cup of coffee, laughing with Emma, who seems happy to see me arrive.

"There you are." Harry says, and I can't help but wonder why the hell he's still here.

"Oh, look at the time! I've really got to go, guys.", says Emma, grabbing her coat, "See you later."

Before I can say anything, she's closed the door behind her. I spin round and look at Harry, who's staring at me with a cheeky gaze. He looks very hot with his sleepy face and messy curls. I blush to the idea of what might have happened between us last night. Did we actually kiss? Or even...? I move my hair behind my shoulders in a sudden movement, trying to remove that picture from my mind.

My eyes run down his face, passing through his defined jaw and strong neck, to his shirtless chest. I bite my lip and look at his tattoos. Some of them are very weird. I would love to ask him about every single one.

 I would love to ask him about every single one

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I force myself to look back at his face. He's noticed I was checking him out but he seems comfortable with it. He smiles and takes a sip from his cup.

"I preferred how you looked earlier.", he mutters.

I raise my eyebrow and sit down opposite him. He lets out a gentle laugh.

"Why are you so mean?", I ask, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, so I'm the mean one."

Is this flirting? I've reached a point in my forever-alone life in which I can't even tell when a guy is hitting on me.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you even know how much trouble I'm going to get in for staying over?", he makes a grin and I smile.

"Well, next time you can sleep on the couch.", I state, and he laughs.

"Oh, there's going to be a next time?".

He grins again to let me know that it's only a joke, but it's too late. My face has gone red. I bring my hand to my mouth and start biting my nails anxiously. Should I tell him that I can't remember anything about last night?

"Look...", I start.

"Oh, don't worry, I was only fooling around.", he utters. 

For some strange reason, I find myself offended by that comment. So he wouldn't want to do this - whatever it is that happened - again with me? I mean, it's not like I didn't see it coming, but it still hurts to hear it from him.

"I think you should go...", I mumble with a shaky voice.

His face suddenly loses its brightness. He nods and downs the cup of coffee.

"Alright.", he says, and walks out of the room.

I hear how he calls somebody as he grabs his stuff. Minutes later, he says goodbye and leaves my house.

I pull my hair in despair. What am I supposed to do now? How can I continue my life after what just happened to me? I feel like stabbing myself three hundred times for kicking him out. I mean, he's Harry Styles, and I could be flirting with him right now if I hadn't been so stupid.

But it's much more complicated than that. The fact that I can't remember if we actually slept together sexually, or just slept together is bothering me more than it should. If this had happened to me with any other guy, I would most definitely have thought that something must have happened. After all, all the signs point to that. 

Yet, we're dealing with Harry Styles, so common sense doesn't apply. Why would he want to be with me? Especially with all the girls who have probably been a thousand times on the cover of Vogue that were next to me yesterday. It just doesn't make sense that anything happened between us last night.

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Last Friday was my last day at the Mexican restaurant, and it turns out Manuel wasn't upset at all, which kind of hurt. Though I'm so excited about this new part of my life, working side by side with Emma, that nothing else matters. I don't even think about the night I spent with Harry anymore. After all, it's not like I'm going to see him again...

Emma started work yesterday, and today she's going to bring me to the office for the first time. I'm really looking forward to it, as it's a really big step for both of our careers.

"Oh, will you ever stop eating?", Emma looks at me and rolls her eyes.

"I'm nervous, ok?", I defend myself, grabbing another crisp from the bag I'm holding.

"Come on, let's go."

We get there on time. It is a very big building in the center of London. As we walk in, I grasp all the luxurious decorations and the very serious looks on everyone's faces and I feel like I'm about to enter a scene from Suits.

We take the lift to the tenth floor, and Emma leads me to an office that says 'Franklin Furt'. I smile at myself as I read the name. Poor guy, highschool must have been a torture with that surname. Emma knocks on the door.

"Come in.", a deep masculine voice answers.

"Good morning, Mr. Furt.", Emma says, as we walk inside, "This is Layla Light, my assistant."

"I see. Nice to meet you, Miss Light."

"Nice to meet you too", I say, and shake his hand.

Emma and the man spend some time discussing a few things about the event we're organising, and I realise I've got no idea what they're talking about. Why did Emma want me here again? Oh, yeah, to make her coffees. Well, judging by the luxurious furniture and decorations of this office, the coffee must be outstanding here.

"Do you agree, Miss Light?", I suddenly come back to Earth as I hear my name and realise I've got no idea what he's asking me about. "Well?"

He's holding up a paper, so I grab it and scan it as quickly as I can. It's just a contract with all the details about what I must and mustn't do. One particular sentence catches my eye, 'I agree to maintain a strictly professional relationship with all my colleagues and clients, i.e. the artists and staff involved'. Harry's face crosses my mind. Will he be in this event? Anyway, even if he is, he probably won't even recognise me. He must have a million better things to do than be concerned about me and my pathetic life.

I grab a pen from the table and sign the contract. Not much longer, Mr. Furt wraps up the meeting and Emma and I head to our workspace.

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