Strings Attached (Harry Styles FanFiction)

17. Try And Stop Me

A/N: Re-Write has officially ended!!!!! Enjoy the new material loves!!!!

Cassie’s POV:

Harry didn’t slow until we reached the entrance to an upscale complex right in the heart of downtown London. Pushing through the lobby doors, he headed strait for the elevators, punching the button for the top floor. I looked to him questioningly but his eyes were dark, focusing on the stainless steel elevator doors. He didn’t hesitate when they opened, pulling me through, stopping in front of the flat at the end of the hall. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, placing his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through. Carelessly, he flicked on the lights, heading immediately to the back recesses of the flat, leaving me alone in the entryway.

“Okay,” I huffed, blowing a lock of hair out of my face, “I’ll just make myself at home them!” I called, sarcasm evident in my tone. Has he seriously never had company over? If I treated ever treated a guest like this my mother would kill me. 

Rolling my eyes, I kicked my shoes off before curling up on the couch I had been asleep on yesterday, picking up the TV remote and flicking through the channels.  Several minutes later, I jumped at the sound of him clearing his throat. I turned to find him shirtless, casually leaning up against the open doorway, towel in hand.

“I’m going to jump in the shower,” He announced, turning to walk back into the master bedroom.

“Oh hey, don’t mind me,” I snorted, glaring at his receding back.

“You can join me if you’d like,” He chuckled, darting me a lustful glance over his shoulder, “Save water and all that?”

“I’ve never bought into the whole ‘global warming’ trash,” I called after him, reverting my attention to the news story. It was a repeat from last night only now there were pictures and video clips that the station had taken from Twitter.

“Jesus Christ,” I hissed, watching in horror as a girl’s phone caught the moment I was assaulted. It was hard to tell if the fan had done it on purpose or if she was trying to get to Harry, either way my cheek still stung from the gashes her nails left behind.

“Still no word from the One Direction Singer confirming or denying a relationship between him and his new mystery girl,” The reporter summed up, her thick scottish accent distorting the words.

“We’re not in a relationship,” I groaned, punching the button to change the channel. Just then my stomach rumbled, reprimanding me. I hadn’t really eaten anything all day other than a bit of popcorn at the movie theater and my coffee this morning. My gaze darted longingly to the kitchen while I remained on the couch, listening to the quiet hum of the the shower in the master bedroom. I swore I could hear him singing along to whatever song he had set to play.

“Well, he did say to make myself at home,” I grinned, taking his earlier silence as permission enough. Jumping up from the couch, I bounded into the sleek kitchen. The appliances all looked brand new, making it obvious that he’d probably never even bothered to try eating in. Typical boy.

Opening all the cupboards, I ransacked his kitchen, searching for the proper ingredients. Measuring out the flower into a stainless steel bowl he’s stored under the marble countertops, I began to slowly count out the cups necessary of the white power. 

I jumped, nearly spilling flour everywhere as a loud banging suddenly emanated from Harry’s front door. After rinsing my hands in the industrial grade sink, I padded over to the door, unlatching it, peering up at the blonde haired boy waiting beyond.

“Haz-... uh, I’m sorry...” the blonde boy stuttered, his face flushing a deep red as he stared down at me with confusion bright in his blue eyes, “Is, uh, Harry here?” He asked though a thick irish accent, peering around me to search the den.