Interlude [h.s]

eight

The morning after comes around and passes by, taking with it any hope Alouette has to see Harry again.

By the time the afternoon melts into evening she's surrendered to spending a mostly boring day in the company of herself only. Evie lets her go a bit earlier than usual, so she decides to go get something warm to drink and spend the rest of her day in her rooms and try to write the perfect reply to Amina.

The letter she received yesterday has really warmed her heart, even though it also made her miss home so much more. She can't wait to be finally done with her tedious job and go back to the Revolution.

She stopped by the cafeteria to order a coffee and she's now walking back to her bedroom holding the warm cup in front of her with both hands. She takes off the lid, wanting it to cool down quicker, and looks down as she puts it in the pocket of her jacket.

That's all it takes.

She glances up just as she crashes against someone, the contents of her cup flying in the air before crashing down on their clothes like sweet-smelling raindrops.

Alouette blinks a few times in shock before looking up, her soul dying inside her chest in the second she does.

She's screwed.

She's screwed, because the annoyed eyes looking back at her are the forest green ones of none other than Harry Styles.

Her mouth falls open as she lets her gaze travel down his tall figure, to the slight stubble on his jawline to his once white dress shirt, that is now covered in the brown stains of her coffee. She stares as the blotches become bigger and bigger as the fabric drinks up the fluid, not daring to meet his gaze again.

He clears his throat and she's forced to look up, and she's sure she'd start crying if she wasn't as strong as she is. But even then, doing that wouldn't be so beneath her, considering she's just done that one thing she should have never done.

She just showered Harry in coffee, there has to be a specific circle in hell for that. If there isn't yet, she can say with certainty Harry himself will make sure one will be created.

She finally looks into his dark green eyes and sees silent anger burning deep inside of them, and it's only then that the stillness of the scene breaks.

"I'm so sorry, sir—"

Harry interrupts her by raising a hand. "I don't want to hear a word," he mutters before taking off the black jacket of his suit and going back inside, throwing it on what looks like a black leather couch.

Only then Alouette realised that she's standing in front of a door and sends a curious glance inside, catching Harry just as he peels the white shirt off his body and throws it on the floor, giving her an eyeful of the strong muscles  of his naked back as he disappears into another room.

She feels suddenly embarrassed when she realises she's standing right in front of Harry's rooms. She managed to destroy his shirt just as he was getting out, like a proper idiot.

A few instants later he comes back, his fingers working quickly on the buttons of the new white shirt he's wearing as he closes it, and Alouette only manages to see the dark silhouette of a tattoo on his stomach before it's covered by the fabric.

Harry glances up and gives her a deadly glare as he swings his black tie around his neck, and she looks away fast, feeling like she's just crossed a very much real line. She knows she shouldn't have looked inside his rooms, but she was too instinctively curious not to do it.

"Not quite how I expected to meet you again, Lark."

Alouette looks up fast as soon as she hears him speak, feeling her cheeks get warmer because of the awkwardness of the situation. "I'm so, so sorry, sir..."