Blind | h.s. [COMPLETE]

Chapter One

"Bye, Paisley. Enjoy your night, baby." Kathy Bower called as Paisley gathered her bags and logged out of her desk phone.

"I sure will. Thank you." She pulled her mini backpack which functioned as a purse over her right shoulder. She pulled the strap of her laptop case over that same shoulder and quickly logged out of her phone. "Bye, Kathy. Don't stay too late."

Paisley Jennings huffed in frustration as she jogged down the back hall to the express elevator. Her cell phone rang in her suit jacket pocket. The default ringtone was just as annoying as an alarm clock early in the morning. What was more annoying was that it had been ringing almost all day.

She pushed her bags aside to pull the small device from her pocket when she caught a glimpse of the elevator doors closing. Shit. "Wait! Can you please hold that?"

She glanced up just long enough to glimpse at a large, ring clad hand holding the elevator door open as she finally freed the phone from her pocket. She spun it around in her hand to answer it and fumbled, sending it crashing and skidding along the dull tile floor.

"Fuck!" she muttered, already fantasizing about the pizza she'd order and bottle of wine she was going to destroy once she got home to bring an end to her day. The thought of a hot, relaxing shower sent a chill down her spine. She knew she deserved it after the hell week she'd had.

At least the phone skidded toward the still-waiting elevator. God bless the patience of the man holding it for her.

Paisley bent down to retrieve the phone then stumbled into the elevator. Her long, dark hair fell in front of her face, but she didn't have a free hand to push it back as she lifted the phone and slid it into her lunch bag. It had stopped ringing, thankfully.

"Thank you," she mumbled to the man as her laptop strap fell off her shoulder, bringing her lunch bag with it to the floor. The elevator beeped its impatience even as the man removed his hand and the doors eased shut.

"No problem," came a deep, slow voice from behind her. "What floor?"

"Lobby, please."

Distracted by her purse and the exhaustion of the long day, Paisley hiked her laptop strap higher on her shoulder then reached down to grab her lunch bag. She slung it over her arm once more and took in a deep breath. Her day was finally coming to an end.

Then the elevator jolted to a stop and everything went pitch black.

Harry Styles tried not to chuckle at the frazzled brunette careening toward the elevator. He had always wondered why so many women carried more than one bag with them. If it didn't fit in the pockets of his jeans or uniform, he didn't carry it with him.

As the woman reached down to scoop up her phone—another thing Harry refused to carry unless he was on call—he found himself mesmerized by the way her hair tumbled over her shoulder in a long waterfall of soft, dark chocolate brown layered waves.

When the woman finally made it into the elevator, she murmured distractedly that she was going to the lobby too. He stepped back against the rear wall and bowed his head as he always did. He didn't really care if people stared at his piercings and ink, but that didn't mean he went out of his way to see their looks of disapproval or fear.

Harry shook his head in amusement as the woman continued to juggle her belongings and spat out a string of obscenities under her breath. His day had been a complete mess, so he was almost ready to join in with her—though his particular coping mechanism usually had him looking for the humor in a situation. And he found this girl damn funny. He was grateful for the distraction.

He watched her as she reached in front of him to press a button. Harry almost laughed when she punched it at least five times. But the laughter died in his throat when he caught the scent of her shampoo. One of the things he loved about women: their hair always smelled like flowers. Lilac. And that scent, combined with the chocolate and the softness and the waviness...Harry shoved his hands in his jeans pockets to keep from running his fingers through the thick mass of her hair. But, Christ, how he wanted to, just once.