No Control | Holding Me Ransom (Book 2)

38 - Just Like How It Used To Be

My heart pounded as I nervously checked my reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time and wiped my palms on my leggings. I arranged my hair around my face, and then flicked it away again, over my shoulder. I didn't want to look as though I was trying too hard.

I paced the lounge, fluffing the sofa cushions, lighting a cherry-scented candle and then hastily blowing it out, and flicking through the TV channels looking for something neutral to put on. I was trying so hard to act natural that everything now seemed forced. I was over-thinking, again.

I sighed and went into the kitchen to check on dinner, and opened the oven door to see the cheese bubbling nicely on top of the dish of lasagne. I wasn't sure how much Harry would have eaten on the flight, or how long he was intending on staying, so I'd spent over an hour preparing a homemade meal, my thinking being that he had spent most of this year so far on tour eating aeroplane food and hotel meals, and would probably be thankful for something homecooked if he was hungry.

I was just wondering if I had over-thought all of this, too, when I heard the front door of the building slamming shut downstairs. My heart lurched sickeningly as I strained to hear footsteps, trying to work out if it was Harry, before I heard a soft knock at the door.

"It's open," I started to call, but as I hadn't spoken in about two hours it came out as an inaudible squeak.

I rolled my eyes at my own uncoolness and walked quickly to the front door, clearing my throat. I pulled it open and felt a flutter of nerves as I looked up into Harry's face. He was wearing a white shirt that was of course unbuttoned to reveal half his chest, and black skinny jeans. His hair was down around his shoulders but pushed back at the front by his sunglasses which were resting on the top of his head.

"Hi," I said, thankful that for once my voice was steady and I sounded confident and relaxed.

"Hey," he replied, smiling softly. My stomach flipped.

I stood to the side and he walked into my flat, a small holdall slung over his shoulder.

"Planning on staying a while?" I teased, inclining my head at his bag.

"If you'll have me," he shot back, glancing over his shoulder at me, a grin on his face.

I shut the door behind us and he walked down the hall, coming to a stop between the kitchen and the lounge, seemingly unsure where to go.

"Go on through," I said, gesturing to the lounge. "Do you want a cup of tea or anything?"

"Yeah, tea would be great, th - what's cooking?"

His eyes had lit up and he was looking at me with contained excitement.

"It's lasagne," I told him. "I wasn't sure if you'd be hungry, or if you'd want to get off home, or..." I trailed off, embarrassed at this whole stupid idea. I didn't even know if he liked lasagne.

"Is it for me?" he asked shyly.

"Well, yeah, if you want it," I replied, equally as shyly.

"I'm starving," he admitted.

"OK, well, it'll be ready in about fifteen minutes," I said. "Why don't you, um, take your boots off and make yourself comfortable, or something."

"Would you mind if I get changed?" he asked. "I'm feeling a bit gross. It was a long flight."

"Do you want a shower?" I offered, pulling my fingers awkwardly.

He hesitated. I could tell he wanted to, but also that he wasn't sure if I was offering out of obligation.