Uncovered - H.S

Thirteen. Comfortable is dangerous.

Play "Ribs" - Lorde

White speckles of flour dusted my nose whilst the rest formed a pretty cloud around me. The afternoon sunlight was strongly piercing the window panes in the kitchen, hitting the metal cookie cutters and causing the rays to distort and shatter into shining glints adorning the worktop.

I decided to bake some cookies. I would say it's because I'm hungry and I had a sudden craving for them, but it was really because I wanted to keep my hands busy, with a subtle hope that the task would distract my muddled head.

The slight crumpling of the flour bag as I placed it back down caused some more to cascade out, causing another weather of clouds above me, but I was already covered so it didn't really matter.

Then I leant over and reached for the sugar, measuring out the correct amount before pouring it into another bowl with the butter I had cubed.

As it turns out, measuring and stirring ingredients was actually doing great at keeping my mind occupied.

When I was half-done mixing I gave my tired arms a rest and let a soft sigh blow past my lips, then realised what I must've looked like with flour on my face, causing me to smile.

It was also Saturday which meant no college, and instead of going out with friends I was baking, alone.

I halted my breathing and stared at the cooking utensils, the sudden bitter irony of my current situation dawned on me, turning my smile turn into a wince.

Baking used to be our family thing we did on Saturdays, I hadn't even realised. How subconsciously I found myself stationed at the kitchen was beyond me, let alone the fact that the family tradition had slipped my mind.

My blood went cold. I didn't want my memories of them to slip, it was all I had left.

Frowning, I shook my head and came to the conclusion that I wouldn't let the baking go to waste, and continued to carry on, although the dull ache in my chest began to resume with every stir of the spoon.

When I had placed the little mounds of cookie dough into the oven, I brushed my hands on my bare legs, wiping away the not so imaginary dust and flour on them.

I should probably change, my outfit consisted of a flour-covered long sleeved jersey and some small grey shorts, my apartment seeming a little warm to wear joggers whilst the oven was on and the sun was out earlier.

As I started to shuffle to my bedroom a collection of knocks echoed through the apartment, the source of the resonating sound coming from the front door. My back straightened in alertness as I whipped around and slowly crept towards the noise, before standing on my tip toes and peering through the peep hole.

What the actual....

Familiar chocolate brown curls littered my view, there Harry stood with both arms leant against the door in front of him whilst his head was facing the floor. I knew it was him by the gold cross that came loose from his shirt as he perched forward.

He gently rose his head and locked eyes with the small hole on the door, practically challenging me with his narrowed stare and slight smirk.

He took his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger and I could see the faded bruises on his knuckles. How he knew I was watching him I didn't know, but that wasn't what was bothering me.

How did he know where I lived? I know he knew the area, but the specific apartment? I didn't understand.

With shaky fingers I gradually clasped the chain lock closed then placed my palm on to the handle, before pressing it down and looking out through the gap I had created.