twenty seven.

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TW: panic attack

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TW: panic attack

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Kendall Jenner and Harry Styles dating?!

This has to be fake... right?

twelve hours ago

My phone rings next to me on the counter but my hands are covered in flour. I try to answer it by sliding the button with my elbow but inevitably, I fail to do so. Continuing to knead the dough for the bread I'm making, I watch as the phone rings out. It's just Liam and if it's important, I'm sure-

"Georgia Rose!" I jump in startle as I hear my front door shut loudly and footsteps coming deeper into the house. "Where are you!" the familiar voice bounces off the walls. I shouldn't have given him a key.

"Kitchen! Stop yelling." I answer Liam and hear him make his way towards me. When the footsteps stop, I glance up quickly to see him in a red hoodie with the hood up and grey sweatpants. "What are you doing here?" I ask considering he didn't mention anything about coming over.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay.." he trails off and I look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed together as he watched me knead the dough with my hands. To be honest, I could've done this with a mixer but I feel more gratified doing it by hand. "Which clearly you're not." he states like he knows everything about me. I mean he does but that's besides the point.

"What? I'm fine, what do you mean?" I knead the dough for the last thirty seconds until it gets to the texture I need it to be.

"You sounded different on the phone this morning so I said I'd come by to make sure you were alright. And now your doing that thing where you bake when you're stressed. What are you even making?"

"Bread and I'm fine." I stare him in the eyes as I'm finally done kneading after eight fucking minutes. Liam looks me dead in the eye, raises his eyebrows as if to question me and then squints his eyes. "Okay fine I'm stressed!" I throw my hands up and let them fall back to my sides, flour getting on my jeans.

"Well what's wrong then?" he pulls a chair out from the counter and sits, making himself comfortable.

   I sigh and look away from him. Instead of answering I touch the dough and make sure it's sticky to touch, just like my grandma taught me all those years ago. I move the dough into the greased bowl I prepared earlier and cover it with a towel, pushing the bowl aside since I now have to wait an hour for it to rise.

"Is it about Harry? Did he do something? He may be one of my best mates but if he said something to you I wouldn't hesitate to-"

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