Fists and Knives (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter 5

Harry waited for a response and I struggled to find one as his eyes looked me up and down.  As his eyes scanned my body, I suddenly felt groggy and disgusting.  I hadn’t showered.  My black yoga pants were old and faded and had paint on them.  My white tee was an old one of Clarks with a few tears in the sleeves.  I could even sense that my bandana was completely crooked.  I would have reached up to fix it, but I still had toothpaste smeared all over my hands to soothe my burns.  Geez, this was no way to be meeting my boss for the first time.  Get a grip! I scolded myself.  When I finally opened my mouth to reply to Harry, he held up his hand for me to be silent. 

“I hope that little slip-up doesn’t reflect the rest of your cooking ability,” He said, looking back at the stove where some of the grits had bubbled over.

I gaped at him, suddenly taken aback by his stab at culinary skills - not that he had been complimenting me at all the rest of the week. “You startled me.  I had no idea you were here and you’re just standing there watching me like a creep and then I burned my hands…”

Harry didn’t look like he cared even the slightest. He slowly raised one eyebrow and flickered his eyes to look down at my hands.  “Why would you think you were alone?” He asked, folding his arms over his bare chest.  It seemed like with every movement he made with his body, more muscles and more tattoos appeared. I was struggling to keep my eyes trained on Harry’s face.  When I still couldn’t formulate the words to say, Harry spoke again.  “I came to watch you because it smelled good.  I wanted to know what you were making.”

“Garf told me I was here alone until later tonight.  I was making my dinner,” I explained.  I was still worked up from Harry’s snide comment about my cooking skills, but also suddenly bubbly from his half-compliment about my food smelling good.  When I finally gathered up the nerve to look him in the eye again, I caught him studying me intently.  He didn’t seem to blink too much, which almost frightened me.

“I’m hungry,” he declared a second later. “Make more of this.” He pointed to my steaming bowl of food.  I tried not to groan too loudly.  I was tired.  I had just scorched my hands.  I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was cooking food for Harry Styles – not that it mattered so much to me.  I knew Clark was going to flip when I told him.  I sighed and reluctantly slid my bowl back across the counter to Harry.

“Take mine.  I’ve lost my appetite.”

Harry shrugged and scooped up the bowl in a single hand.  His hands were huge.  I could never imagine willingly stepping into a boxing ring with Harry and just waiting for him to use those hands and punch me in the face a few times.  His red lips curled slowly around the spoon of food, his tongue swiping any stray grains of grits from his lips before he began to chew.  His jaw looked so sharp and strong as he ground down the shrimp between his teeth.  Only when he glanced back at me did I snap out of my trance.  I wondered if he had this effect on all women.

“What – um.  What happened?” I asked, pointing down at his boot and then at the stitches on his forehead.

Harry’s face remained stoic as he shifted from his good foot onto the boot, but from the way his body tensed, I could tell he was in pain.  He spooned another mouthful of my shrimp-and-grits into his mouth and I mentally praised myself.  Finally, a dish he didn’t have criticism about.

“I got the flu,” Harry lied. 

I rolled my eyes. “Coughed so hard that you fell down the stairs, broke your foot, and split your head open?”

“Exactly,” Harry said with his mouth full.

I rolled my eyes again and walked past Harry to the sink to wash the toothpaste off of my hands.  I couldn’t tell if it was his shampoo or cologne, but something smelled amazing.  My eyes wandered as I held my hands under the water over to where Harry was standing, still scooping spoon after spoon of my shrimp-and-grits into his gorgeous mouth.  He always seemed to sense when I was looking at him because his eyes would find mine, and he would stare at me without blinking until I looked away.  Stop it, I reprimanded myself,you have a boyfriend.  It struck me as odd that I was having any of these thoughts… I hadn’t thought about any other guy like that except Clark.  I mean, but I can still look, right?