#grumpy!harry

[1d1195]

Have a Nice Day, Miss - Part I

You'll eventually read the rest here: Have a Nice Day, Miss | ~4.2k words

From Me/Warnings: so I was inspired a little by Only Murderers in the Building. The good news: no murders in this one, lol. Bad news: you'll probably see a bit of angst throughout, but not in this part. I hope you like them 💕

Summary:

“Alden’s niece?” Niall asked from behind him. “I think I caught a glimpse of her. Cute. Is that her stuff?” Harry nodded silently keeping a steady gaze on her items. “You alright?”

He nodded again. “Jus’ keeping an eye on her stuff.”

He snorted. “Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow at his friend. Harry stared at him. “You’ve got it bad,” Niall chuckled quietly.

One of the hardest parts of Harry’s job was being happy (or at least looking like he was happy) when he was not having a good day. He didn’t get the best sleep. A lot of his night was spent thinking about all the things he had to do today and all the things that he didn’t get to before falling asleep.

Fortunately, the first resident he saw early that morning was Arthur. So, at the very least, it was a little easier to pretend that he was doing okay this morning.

“Mr. Langley, good morning,” Harry smiled, a real genuine smile that he didn’t need to fake. “Your driver is right outside; your coffee was delivered just a moment ago. What time should I expect you back so I can put your thermostat back on?”

“Five-thirty, Mr. Styles. Thank you,” he took the coffee and checked his watch. Arthur was older, his watch was probably worth more than Harry’s entire salary for a year. But Arthur was kind, tipped well at the holidays, and thanked Harry profusely every single day regardless of if he did all that much for him. If Harry was rich, he’d want to be just like Arthur. “How’s the weather out there?”

“It’s a typical January day. Warm in the sun, cold in the wind.”

“Sure, alright. I’ll see you this evening. Don’t work too hard,” he winked.

Harry couldn’t help but grin. Arthur was one of his favorites. “Have a good day, Mr. Langley,” he said holding open the door for him and then turned back toward the lobby. It was huge, the desk where Harry spent a lot of his day was across from the main doors and it was the shortest distance to the elevator. There was ample seating. Some of the residents spent time down there, especially during the holidays to admire the tree Harry put up and get warm by the beautiful fireplace.

Harry didn’t have a lot of money, but the lobby was one of his favorite places.

Except for when someone, who was consistently in a worse mood than he was, arrived like clockwork.

He was sorry to say, but Mrs. Wentworth was… not one of his favorites. She was very particular and was displeased more often than not.

Harry strode back across the lobby to his desk waiting for the list of demands that he was sure were about to fall from her lips at any moment. “Good morning, Mrs. Wentworth,” did he grit his teeth behind his smile a little? Perhaps. It was something he had perfected morning after morning. The older woman barely acknowledged his greeting.

“I have a package coming this morning. It’s very important it doesn’t get mishandled. I don’t want it lying around down here for anyone to take nor on my doorstep. Set it on my kitchen table.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded politely at her demand. In Harry’s time as doorman, he had not once lost a package to theoretical thieves. Hell, he’d hardly ever mixed up two packages when he brought them to a resident’s doorstep. Most people gathered their items in the lobby. Mrs. Wentworth was one of the only people who asked for her packages to be delivered to her door. “Do you need me to call a car, Mrs. Wentworth?” He asked kindly. Get you out of here a little faster, perhaps? He thought to himself.

God, he was not chipper at all this morning.

“Well, it’s not going to call itself now, is it?”

Harry swallowed the ironic laughter that threatened to bubble out of him. He couldn’t help it; it was comical—almost like clockwork that this curmudgeonly woman would have an attitude like that with Harry. He was nothing but polite to everyone, but the least not her, always. “Right away, Mrs. Wentworth,” he nodded and quickly busied himself with the phone call for her car and driver. He hoped for the person at the other end of the line would send a veteran and not a new driver. That would be disastrous for everyone involved.

Seconds after hanging up, he found Mrs. Wentworth gathering her mail from the boxes in the small little room where they resided to the right of the lobby. He took a small, relieved breath to not have to worry for fifteen seconds before her next demand was ordered. Or that she wasn’t eyeing him like he forgot to iron his shirt.

Within those fifteen seconds, however, the electronic beeping of a large moving truck pulled up and backed up against the curb outside the building. Briefly he glanced at the notes he had prepared on the desk in front of him just to double-check he had all the relevant information corrected.

The newest resident of Kingsley Place was moving in.

The building had been around for nearly a hundred years but had been renovated in the current century. It was hard for a new person to move in unless they had a lot of money or a lot of wealth prior to signing the lease.

Which was exactly what Harry was afraid of.

“That truck is going to get in the way of my car,” Mrs. Wentworth snapped.

Especially if the new resident was going to be anything like Mrs. Wentworth.

Harry hurried to the door hoping to assure Mrs. Wentworth of any problems. (Plus, if the truck blocked her in, Harry would never hear the end of it, and he might not make it through his workday). He waved to the driver to get his attention. “Can I trouble you to move up a bit?” He asked. The driver saluted him and moved up just as Mrs. Wentworth’s car pulled up. Harry held the door open as the old woman crossed the threshold. Harry was excited to see her off for the day. Who knew what she did while she was gone all day, but at least she wouldn’t be souring his mood in the lobby for any longer. The driver of the truck got out and started to open the back with a loud, clanging, metallic sound as the door slid to the top.

“Whoever the new resident is, better not scratch up the floor or the elevator with their junk,” Harry held open the door for her to pass through. She stood just in front of the entry way waiting for Harry’s next move.

“Course not, Mrs. Wentworth,” Harry held his arm out for her to take to walk to the edge of the sidewalk and get into her car.

“Oh great,” she scoffed bitterly. “It’s another one of you young’uns,” her voice was filled with distaste. “She better not play loud music and better not be on my floor.”

Better for her sake, surely. Harry knew next to nothing about the new resident other than her name. Other than she was Henry Alden’s niece and had been given the luxurious apartment on the twelfth floor (luckily for everyone involved, not the same floor as Mrs. Wentworth). For once, Harry sided with the old, cranky lady.

Harry was frustrated that she was young too. Or perhaps jealous was a better word for how he felt (although he would deny it tooth and nail). Harry worked hard. He tried his best every day and yet people were still handed the pretty apartments like the one this woman was about to move into.

Harry glanced in the direction of the truck expecting to find a woman like all the other new-money residents that lived in his building. He expected name brand athleisure wear and a mere photo op of her “moving in” with her make up and hair perfectly done and a crew of men to do the actual moving. He’d seen it at least ten times over.

Harry thought about when he moved into the building. It was a small living space, he was allowed in what was practically the basement of the building. He moved every item in himself without help. Granted he didn’t have much. He was very grateful for any space in the beautiful building at a reasonable price when he saw how much the apartments he served cost.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

The voice came from behind them as Harry helped Mrs. Wentworth into the car. The woman that Harry had been thinking about, and the one Mrs. Wentworth was worried about being too loud appeared just off the side of Harry’s elbow. “I believe you dropped this,” she said holding out an envelope. Harry glanced at it briefly and he wasn’t quite sure of its contents of course, but he’d bet there was a check or money in it, for sure.

Mrs. Wentworth snatched it out of her hands. “Harry, did you see it fall? Did you try to take it?!”

Harry nearly gaped. He started to protest before he could stop it; he spent a lot of time refraining from speaking his mind around his least favorite resident. But he slept poorly and he was on track for a bad day. It would rid himself of Mrs. Wentworth once and for all if he just told her off.

If this angry, old woman got him fired because she was going to accuse him of stealing when he had never been anything but nice to her, he would without a doubt cry.

But before he could finally tell her off, he was interrupted.

“No ma’am,” she said quickly instead. “I was just coming over to introduce myself, when you adjusted your purse over your shoulder, I saw it flutter out. Must have caught the breeze. It’s okay! It’s all sealed and I didn’t see anything else fall,” she said reassuringly with a kind smile. Her voice was gentle and it sounded like the way her smile looked: pretty, warm, and lovely. Harry only had a peripheral visual of her at the moment. He was trying to make sure Mrs. Wentworth was safely inside the car and not about to break a leg between the curb and the door frame. “It’s nice to meet you,” she stuck her hand out in between Harry and the open space of the car. He chose this moment to look at the driver up front, steeling himself for a ride with Mrs. Wentworth. It clearly wasn’t his first rodeo either—and Harry was glad the company sent someone used to her antics—and if she was in a bad mood before she got in the car it was all over for him.

“Oh.”

Harry, in the seven or so years of being at Kingsley Place, had not once seen Mrs. Wentworth at a loss for words (or complaint). She shook the new resident’s hand awkwardly and Harry stepped away from the side of the road. “Have a lovely day, Mrs. Wentworth,” he hoped he sounded level and cool, and not like he was begging for her to leave..

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wentworth,” the woman beside him smiled beautifully.

(It was right at that moment that Harry felt some flicker of emotion in the pit of his stomach. It echoed in his chest. It had been a long time since he wanted a relationship. When he was surrounded by all that money and glamour—especially the new-money residents—he didn’t think of relationships much at all. Since he lacked the kind of money he saw every day, it was hard to convince himself that he could be in a relationship or support someone else. It didn’t feel like it was in the cards for him at this juncture in his life. That was fine by him. He wanted to be out of debt. Wanted to live his quiet little life and nothing more. So, the woman’s kindness and helpfulness to the lowly doorman made that dormant emotion that Harry wasn’t quite sure what it was flutter in his body. It felt almost like some long-ago memory of falling for someone. Was it because she was pretty or because she told off his least favorite resident with nothing but sugar on her tongue? He couldn’t quite tell just yet, but he figured at the very least it was probably both.)

She gave a gentle wave and turned back to her moving truck where the driver was stacking boxes on the sidewalk.

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected.

The new, younger residents didn’t do anything on their own. They needed help with everything. The eye rolls Harry kept at bay when they asked him for inane things and help felt like he was going to develop a head trauma at any moment. They knew how to flash their money around and that was it.

But here she was, thanking the driver and climbing on the back of the truck and procuring a handcart to help with her boxes. “Oh, you’re still here, great!” she said with a bright smile as she hopped down again. “She’s a piece of work, hmm?” She smirked knowingly and tilted her head toward the retreating car.

Harry realized he was staring. How could he not? He had full visual of her now. She was wearing athleisure wear, but he wasn’t sure it was name-brand. He thought back to when the building first opened. Maybe there was something about ankles that were cute. It was cool, but she just wore a sweatshirt over her head. It had a logo for a science seminar of some kind. He didn’t want to get caught staring at her chest, so he opted for a quick scan and nothing more. He cleared his throat. “Uhh… yeah.”

“I’m the new resident. The old Alden residence. My uncle,” she explained.

He nodded solemnly. He tried not to notice the way she lifted her boxes onto the cart because it involved a lot of bending and stretching and she was…pretty. Very, very pretty.

He should have offered his help. He peered around her and noticed the large truck had a lot of extra space and not nearly enough to warrant such a large truck. “You’ll jus’ need t’sign in at the front,” he mumbled.

“Sure, of course,” she grinned sweetly. “I believe I spoke to someone on the phone about who I’d meet today. You’re Mr. Styles, is that correct?”

He cleared his throat again. “Harry, yes,” he reached for one of the boxes and placed it on top of the other. He wasn’t supposed to. If anything, he should have waited for her to ask, at least.

Her pretty eyes followed the movement immediately. “Thank you, Harry,” her voice was so kind, filled with gratitude. “I’m sure you’re busy and I know you’re not supposed to help; I appreciate that. Let me sign whatever you need so I can get out of your way,” she pulled her cart behind her as she headed for the front door.

Harry was a bit stunned. A wave of awe washed over him. She had to have money… right? Her uncle had a lot of money so… it was a family thing… right? Where were her movers? Harry shook his head and tried to remember how to do his job before one of the other residents saw him. Mrs. Wentworth would probably tear him a new one if she saw him not holding the door for her—even if the old lady decided her feelings about the new resident before getting to know her.

Ugh, I’m just like Mrs. Wentworth. Harry thought.

“Uhh… right, yeah, sorry,” he shook his head and hurried for the door. He grabbed it and allowed her through. Behind them, the driver was still stacking boxes on the sidewalk. She pulled the cart behind her, it stuck a bit on the lip of the door frame and she huffed as she exerted a little more energy to get it over the entryway.

“This is going to be such a pain,” she frowned and whispered it to herself.

God, she was cute.

No, no she’s not, stop it. Harry shook his head, moved behind his desk and found the appropriate paperwork and whatnot. “Sign here,” he stated and handed the pen to her. She skimmed over the words; it wasn’t a contract or anything. That was all sent electronically. This was just acknowledgement that Harry handed off her keys.

“I know we just met and all and you don’t have to stand over it or anything, but could you keep an eye on the boxes he leaves on the sidewalk? I just have to run up to my apartment and drop these off. I’ll be right back down,” she looked at him expectantly. Her eyebrows knit together just a bit, and she looked a little nervous, like Harry was going to say no. And he could. She was right. It wasn’t in his job description.

Was it hot in the lobby? Did he turn the heat up too high since it was colder outside? He felt warm as she spoke to him and maybe a little nervous himself. He didn’t like that she was pouting. It seemed genuine. She seemed… lost. There was no one there except for her. Did any of Alden’s family live near by? He couldn’t remember. “You don’t have to fight anyone over it either. I grabbed all the important ones first,” she said quickly. Like that would be the deciding factor for him.

“You’re moving your stuff in?” He realized by then, but it was like he needed confirmation.

She tilted her head. “Well, yeah…”

“What about the driver?”

She turned to look out at the sidewalk briefly before turning back to him with a shrug. “He’s going elsewhere. More pickups, I think. I paid him a little extra to help get the stuff off the truck but I’m on my own here.”

“Oh,” he shook his head. “I’ll… I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“Yeah?!” She sighed with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Styles. Seriously, I appreciate it so much,” she said gratefully and placed the pen back on the paper she signed. He handed her the key to her apartment and then she all but skipped over to the elevator with relief that Harry was going to help her.

Harry realized too late that he was once more not doing his job. He all but ran across the lobby to smack the button before she could. He needed to be a little useful to this woman. Anything would be better than standing there with his mouth halfway to the floor in awe of her.

“You can call me Harry if you want,” he mumbled.

She smiled waiting patiently for the elevator to ascend. “It’s really whatever you would prefer.”

For a brief moment he considered keeping it the utmost professional. But she was young and Harry was lonely and she was moving in all by herself so maybe she was a little lonely too. “Harry is fine,” he said very softly.

“Great,” she grinned brightly. She tucked the strand of pretty, soft looking hair behind her ear that was pulled from the bun she had artfully affixed to the back of her head. “Thank you again, Harry.”

“My pleasure, really. Welcome to Kingsley Place,” he nodded, just as the elevator chimed with its arrival. He held the door open (not that it was going to close any time soon, but he wanted to make sure she was safely inside with all her belongings before it shut) and let her pass across its threshold.

“Harry?” She asked gently.

“Yes?” He pressed the twelfth-floor button.

“What apartment number am I?”

He smirked. “12A, Miss.”

“12A,” she repeated. Harry noticed it sounded like a bird singing a song first thing in the morning. “I’ll be right back,” she took a deep breath and Harry stepped back as the elevator doors closed.

He stared at where she was standing just moments ago. She was moving in on her own. She didn’t even know which apartment she was living in. Harry knew next to nothing about her and yet there was some long-forgotten familiarity to her. Something that he couldn’t quite place that made him feel a little lighter.

Was he having a bad morning? He couldn’t remember.

“Who was that?” He spun on his heel and saw Niall making his way to the office behind the front desk to hang up his coat. He dressed a bit differently than Harry did, but still looked professional. Harry heard the jingle of his keys as he hooked them on his belt loop and strapped his tool belt around his hips. Harry returned to the door and watched as the driver moved the last of her items on the ground. Harry gave a nod to him and watched him depart from the curb.

“New resident.”

“Alden’s niece?” He asked from behind him. He grabbed the clipboard off the desk and scanned the orders that Harry printed off when he got to the office. Niall had a busy day ahead of him. Harry nodded watching the stuff on the sidewalk like it might suddenly disappear. “I think I caught a glimpse of her. Cute. Is that her stuff?” Harry nodded silently keeping a steady gaze on her items. “You alright?”

He nodded again. “Jus’ keeping an eye on her stuff.”

“Hmm,” Niall tilted his head at his best friend. “That’s nice of you.”

“Would y’mind helping me move it into the lobby?”

He snorted. “Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow at his friend. Harry stared at him. “You’ve got it bad,” Niall chuckled quietly.

“Got what bad?” Harry turned to glare at him.

He held the clipboard up like it was a shield. “Nothing, nothing at all. Just didn’t know you would break the rules for someone.”

“She’s all alone moving all her things,” he mumbled.

“That’s a nice change of pace,” Niall agreed. He and Niall talked at length, how differently the other half lived—the kind of wealth that they would never understand. Harry and Niall worked hard. Always. They believed some of their residents hadn’t worked a day in their lives.

“Will y’help or not?”

Niall chuckled again but followed Harry outside and started grabbing boxes to carry through the door to stack near the chairs in the lobby. He didn’t block any seats, didn’t block the mailboxes, or anything that could annoy other residents.

“She told off Mrs. Wentworth,” Harry mumbled with the thought of annoyed residents.

“Oh, you’re going to marry the fuck out of her,” Niall laughed loudly. Harry was grateful they were outside so none of the residents heard him.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I am not.”

“You’re bringing her boxes inside.”

Harry ignored his friend and continued moving boxes in as quickly as he could. The elevator signaled her arrival (although he realized after the fact it really could have been any of the residents, but he chose not to read into it) and he was right. She reappeared with her empty cart and that extremely bright smile of hers filled her very pretty face. “Oh, that’s so kind of you, but don’t feel like you have to, I know it’s not your job,” she said sweetly. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“I helped too!” His best friend pouted entering from outside once more.

She laughed this beautiful, sweet sound that Harry was in awe of; that long-forgotten feeling continued bubbling inside of him. “Nice to meet you,” she held her hand out and Harry was extremely jealous that Mrs. Wentworth and Niall were getting to hold her hand (no matter how briefly).

“If you need anything let Harry or I know. He’ll make sure I fix it,” he assured her. “I’d love to stay and help, but I’ve got a busy schedule,” he explained. “Harry would be happy to help you, still though,” he said and boarded the elevator to start his day.

Niall made kissy faces at Harry as the doors closed and Harry ignored him completely.

“I jus’ figured it’d be easier t’watch your stuff if it was inside the building. So, I could keep working on m’actual stuff,” he wondered if he sounded a little colder to her. He felt like he did. He was trying hard to keep a boundary that he feared was slipping away very quickly.

She nodded; her kind smile was full of gratitude still despite his prickliness. She was so pretty looking, and she didn’t look bothered that she was alone and moving all by herself. “Well thank you Harry. I was more worried about it on the street. This is really a huge help. Don’t trouble yourself with anything else. I’ll get this out of here in no time,” she began stacking more boxes on her cart as she spoke and it was filled within moments. “I’ll be spending most of the day unpacking, so hopefully I won’t bother you or anyone else once I’m upstairs.”

“Right, sure. That sounds good,” he muttered. Was he upset that he wouldn’t see her much once her boxes were gone? Maybe he could ‘hide’ one and ‘find’ it and bring it to her…

She stacked a few more boxes on her cart. “Well, if I don’t see you later, have a nice day, Harry. Thank you again.”

He watched her get on the elevator once more. He held it open until he knew she was safely inside with all her belongings. “Have a nice day, Miss,” he said gently. That pretty smile disappeared behind the closing doors and she ascended to the twelfth floor.

--

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[harrywavycurly]

Sunday Softies: Room 605

CW: None minus Harry is a bit grumpy in the beginning

Word Count: 3.3K

Trope: Kinda sorta love at first sight if you have bad vision

A/N: I got inspired by the hotel aspect of the Aperture music video so here we are and here you go! I thought this would be a cute little submission for @jarofstyles fic challenge! I hope y'all enjoy ✨

Tag List: @louisbelongstome28 @daydreaming-laur @kiwitsayedsugar @umadirectioner @foreverforeverhs @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @blckburd @triski73 @mema10 @angeldavis777 @maudie-duan @mads3502 @everyhug @namoreno @maladaptivescorpio @bethiegurl19 @aileen1237 @harryspirate @dxnycast @discohoee @irishone11 @likea-silhouette @carina-tia @cryinonfilm @aviisreal @daphnesutton @vikiii07 @maudie-duan @sstylezzz @fkingstyles

Summary: Harry just wants more pillows and you try your best to get them to him in a timely manner✨

Harry likes to think he’s a reasonable person, he doesn’t get upset when they get his order wrong at his local cafe, he doesn’t even flinch when someone bumps into him on the sidewalks in whatever city he’s visiting, not to mention he only ever really finds himself raising his voice to shout over the music in a club with his friends, but even relatively level headed individuals like Harry do have their limits and his is teetering on the edge of being reached. He lets out a loud sigh as he sits on the edge of his freshly made hotel bed, his hands are folded in his lap while his eyes are glued on the small clock on the nightstand.

As he watches the numbers change he chews on his bottom lip, he starts messing with the ring on his index finger while his mind swirls with possible reasons as to why a simple task such as bringing him two extra pillows is taking so long. When he called down to the front desk he spoke to a lovely woman who assured him it would only be a few minutes until someone from housekeeping would be knocking on his door to deliver his extra plushy pillows, but that was almost an hour ago so with every minute that goes by it’s as if Harry can feel his patience wearing thinner and thinner.

Normally he wouldn’t be this bothered by a few measly pillows but the events of the day have turned his mood a bit sour and when this happens all Harry finds himself wanting to do after a long hot shower is lay in a nice bed and cuddle a pillow close to his chest, having always found the feeling of something soft being tightly tucked up against him oddly comforting but he can’t exactly do that with the bed how it is currently since it only has one pillow. He doesn’t even know how he ended up with only one, having stayed in countless hotels in numerous cities he knows the normal amount is usually two and if he had that many he wouldn’t have had to call down the the front desk and ask for extras and he surely wouldn’t be sitting on the edge of his bed like a little kid who just got scolded for something and sent to their room while waiting for someone to drop them off.

“This is ridiculous.” He huffs as he stands up and turns to look towards the door of his hotel room. “You’re a grown man Harry just go down there and ask for more pillows.” He grumbles to himself as he walks over to the dresser directly across from the bed that the tv is sitting on so he can grab his wallet that has his room key in it. After slipping his wallet into the back pocket of his dark grey slacks he adjusts the jumper he has pulled over a button up dress shirt as he walks over to his door. He takes a few deep calming breaths as his hand wraps around the cold metal of the door knob, not wanting to be in too foul of a mood and end up being rude to whoever he’s about to speak with at the front desk. But just as he’s about to turn the knob and pull the heavy door open he hears a voice coming from the hallway.

“Hi sorry to bother you-did you call down for more pillows?-no? Okay have a good night! So sorry again.” Harry quirks a brow as he leans in closer to the door, the voice is soft and a little too cheery for the time of night as it drifts down the hall and under his door. He hears a muffled noise just before the sound of a door closing, he leans in even closer so his ear is practically pressed against the door letting him hear the sound of footsteps.

“Shit.” He hisses as the sound of two heavy knocks on his door rings in his ears making him fumble backwards as he shakes off the slight buzzing in his ears while trying to regain his balance.

“Housekeeping.” The voice is still soft and cheerful but just amplified so he can hear it through the door, two more knocks have him scrambling for the knob and pilling the door open. “House-oh hello I’m sorry to bother you but did you happen to call down to the front desk and ask for extra pillows?” Harry just stares at you as he stands in the doorway only a bit disheveled with his hair looking as if he’s run his hands through it a few too many times and the collar of his dress shirt that’s poking out of the top of his sweater appears to be a little crooked.

You give him a smile as you lower the two pillows in your arms down just enough so he can get a better view of your face. Harry swallows thickly as his eyes roam over your features, taking in your pretty eyes and warm smile that have him completely forgetting the reason you’ve even knocked on his door. Something about you has managed to catch him completely off guard so he doesn’t even notice it’s been well past the socially acceptable amount of time between you asking him a question and him answering it making you just tilt your head just a smidge and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Are you okay?” Your question has Harry realizing he’s been staring at you for far too long making him clear his throat and run a hand through his hair causing it to become even more unruly looking.

“Uh I-” you give him a reassuring smile as you stare at him, patiently waiting for him to answer your question. For the life of him Harry can't understand why suddenly his mind isn't function properly, not letting him form complete and well articulated sentences resulting in choppy slightly incoherent messes all because you're looking at him. “Yes I’m-I’m fine…those are n-nice.” He stutters as he motions towards the pillow in your arms while his eyes not so subtly drift down towards your chest making you let out a laugh because this isn’t the first time a guest has appreciated the perfectly tailored fit of your housekeeping uniform. “I mean the pill-pillows those look nice I did uhm…need them I only have…one.” He explains as he feels his face get hot, you just nod and once again find yourself waiting on him to say something or at the very least reach out and take the pillows from you.

“I’m Harry.” He blurts out after a few moments of awkward silence, you look down at his hand that he stretches out and can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from deep in your chest and out of your mouth. At the sound of you laughter Harry understands his mistake and quickly drops his hand down to his side, but he can't deny the fact he quite likes the sound of your laughter even if it is directed towards him for doing something embarrassing.

“Lovely to meet you Harry.” You tell him with a comforting smile that lets him know you don't mind the little missteps that have taken place during this brief interaction, his eyes dart over to your name tag and for some reason Harry can't help himself from opening his mouth and saying something that to you seems like something he would say to anyone to seem polite but the reality is it's very unlike him.

"I love your name- s'very pretty." Your smile grows bigger making Harry instantly add to his already uncharacteristic compliment. "It's very fitting that such a pretty girl- I mean uhm woman would have such a pretty name." His eyes stare into yours while you register the words that just tumbled out of his mouth, your cheeks get warm and you have to look away from him before you get too caught up in the greens of his eyes and forget you're still technically on the clock and are here to do your job.

"Thank you that's very kind of you." Harry smiles, pleased with himself that he's managed to get at least one complete sentence out without sounding too ridiculous. "Now did you say something about your bed only having one pillow?" Your voice is laced with a sort of concern that reminds him of when a loved one calls just to check on him and make sure he's okay and well taken care of and this has Harry's heart practically melting at the idea of you being that concerned about his lack of pillows.

"Oh yes I uh well- come in and you can see for yourself." Your eyes go a bit wide as Harry turns around and heads into his room, leaving you no choice but to go against your better judgment and follow him. "I'm not lying or anything I really only have one and that's the whole reason I had to call down for more." Your eyes do a quick once over of your surroundings once you hear the door click shut and you follow him deeper into the small space, your shoulder start to relax and your heart rate begins to go back to normal when all you see if a small duffel bag on the table near the window and his jacket draped over one of the two small chairs that accompany it.

As he stands off to the side of the bed you can't help but let your eyes do a quick inventory of the odd but charming man that occupies room 605. You appreciate the slight view you have of his profile while you stand at the foot of his queen sized bed that does in fact only have one pillow on it, his jawline is impeccable and you like how the darkness of his hair accentuates the green of his eyes and you get a sense by the broadness of his shoulders and the sheer size of him that he has the ability to come off as intimidating or a bit harsh, but as he stands there it's as if he can feel your eyes on him and you catch the way the corners of his mouth twitch as if he's fighting back a smile and that small action has all the hard edges of him softening. Then you take a few moments to really look at his outfit, the softness of his sweater vest gives him a more approachable yet still professional vibe while the fun lip pattered dress shit underneath it tells you he likes to have fun, at least with how he dresses and that makes you smile as you come to the conclusion that there might be more to Harry than what meets the eye. You don't try to hide the fact you just let your eyes roam over his tall frame for a solid two minutes, not seeing any harm in it especially since he did the same to you but with a more hungry look in his eyes, while yours hold a soft sort of curiosity to them.

"I really don't know how this happened." You tell him truly stumped at how anyone on the housekeeping staff would check off on this room being ready for the next guest with only one pillow at the top of the bed. "But don't worry I will go and get you one more so you can have an even four- something about an odd number of pillows just doesn't sit well with me." Harry lets out a small chuckle as you place the two pillows down at the end of his bed.

"Three is fine really I don't-"

"It's not fine. You only had one instead of two and you called to ask for two more meaning you're supposed to have four so just let me go grab one more and I'll be right back now that I know what room you're in." This has Harry rising a brow at you as you grab one of the pillows and walk around to the opposite side of the bed that he's standing at so you can place it next to the sad lonely pillow he already has.

"What do you mean now that you know what room I'm in? I told them my room number when I called." He explains as he walks over and grabs the other pillow so he can place it in the middle of the bed making you give him a small appreciative smile before reaching over and grabbing it so you can place it neatly on top of the one closest to you.

"Oh yeah you spoke to Jane she's new and- she's lovely and wonderful but forgets things so all she could tell me was that someone needed two extra pillows and that they were on either the fifth or sixth floor." Harry feels his face twist up into one of confusion and disbelief because if you didn't even know what floor he was on that means you had to knock on everyone's door before finding his. "That's why it took so long- I normally respond to these types of requests in a very timely manner but there's about twenty rooms on the fifth floor and then I knocked on another ten on this floor before I finally got to yours." Your voice is far too sweet with an almost joking undertone to it for Harry's liking, not finding it very funny that you had to carry around his pillows for an hour just because someone else isn't very good at their job.

"That's- that's unacceptable." You look across the bed at him as his words hit your ears and when your eyes find his you can see the sharp edges of his personality starting to poke through the softness of him that you just saw a few moments ago. "You shouldn't have to knock on twenty plus rooms to find the one you're looking for you should know exactly where you're going- Jane should write things down if her memory is so horrible." You don't miss the slight protective edge his voice takes on as he places a hand on his hip, his eyes soften just enough for you to know he isn't upset at you or even Jane really its just the situation in general he's not thrilled with. "I- I was on my way down to the front desk when you uh knocked on the door." He admits shyly as if he doesn't want you to think he's the type of person to go and complain about things like this because he honestly isn't.

"Really? You waited an hour before deciding to go down there and asking what's taking so long?" Your shocked expression has Harry's worries of you thinking he's some sort of hot headed impatient person fading away. "I would've been calling again after half an hour- you're way more patient than me." You tell him with a laugh and a shake of your head that makes him smile after letting out a quiet sigh of relief. "Now just sit tight and I'll be right back with another pillow okay?" Harry just nods at you before you turn and start walking towards the door.

"O-okay I'll be here waiting for you-or not uhm for you but for you to return with…with the pillow." He mentally scolds himself for sounding so stupid as he follows you to the door, you just let out a laugh as you turn to face him.

"I'll let you in on a little secret okay?" You quirk a brow at Harry who just nods in response making you smile as you raise a hand up and place it on his arm making him wish he wasn't wearing a long sleeve so he could feel the softness of your hand on his bare skin. "I don't mind if it's me you're waiting for and not the pillow." Harry feels his heart start to pound in his chest as his eyes glance down at your hand as it gives his arm a little squeeze.

"I'll be right back." That's the last thing you say before releasing your grip on his arm and turning around so you can pull open his door, he quickly moves to grab it so he can hold it open for you allowing him to see the smile on you have on your face as you walk out of his room. He pokes his head out and watches you walk down the hallway towards the elevators, a sense of almost sadness and longing building up in his chest with each step you take. You turn your head and give him a wave and a grin before disappearing around the corner making him let out a sigh as he steps back into his room and closes the door.

"I think I just fell in love." Harry whispers to himself with a small chuckle as he leans his back against the door. "Thank goodness for missing pillows." He mumbles as he runs a hand over his face that he can't seem to keep a grin off of as he starts to replay the infectious and bubbly sound of your laugh over and over again in his mind.

"Holy shit." You all but squeal as you place a hand over your chest while standing in front of the elevators waiting for the doors to open. "Did I just- there's no way that just happened." You say with a laugh as the elevator dings before the doors slide open, you have a silly little grin on your face as you press the star button that will take you back down to the lobby. When you walk out of the elevator Jane gives you a questioning look as you walk past her station at the front desk towards the back staircase that will lead you to the closet in the housekeeping area where all the extra pillows and blankets are kept.

"You okay? You look a little…out of it." Jane asks making you just shrug as you continue on your way towards the stairs, only pausing at the end of the desk in front of the small candy bowl full of mints so you can grab a few and shove them in the front pocket of your housekeeping dress.

"I think I'm in love with the guy in room 605." You tell her with a dreamy sigh, this has her eyes widening but it's not over what you just casually admitted it's because your words spark something in her mind that she had forgotten up until now.

"Oh he needs extra pillows!" You pause and look at her over your shoulder making her give you a minor look of panic. "He called like- I don't even know how long ago do you mind bringing him some?" You rub your lips together to hold off a laugh at the fact she doesn't even seem to remember sending you on the errand an hour ago, just giving her a nod in response. "Thank you! You're a life saver!"

"No problem- it'll be my pleasure."

"After that feel free to clock out- Stacy is here for the night shift." You just smile and give her a thumbs up before continue on your way to go grab Harry's pillow, a tiny bubble of excitement growing in your tummy with each step that brings you closer and closer to getting to see the man in room 605 with the bright emerald eyes and a smile that makes your heart flutter.

[stylesloveclub]

Thumper

In which y/n is pretty sure her neighbor hates her, and Harry needs someone to take care of his bunny.

+++

For y/n, the month of December was truly the best part of the year. 

She absolutely loved getting into the holiday spirit: whether that meant hanging multi-colored fairy lights around her bed frame, baking snowman shaped cookies for her friends and family, or busting out her reindeer printed fuzzy socks – she loved it all. 

And, more importantly, she loved getting three weeks off from school. Winter break meant the end of finals week, which meant no more flashcards waiting to be memorized or textbooks waiting to be annotated. Just pure holiday bliss and seasonal joy. 

The only part of the holiday season that y/n wasn’t particularly fond of was New Years. 

While many considered the new year to be a “new beginning,” y/n only really thought of it as the official end to her holiday joy. She never really indulged in the thought of new year’s resolutions – in fact, she found them to be quite silly. Why on Earth would someone create a half-hearted promise to themselves, knowing very well that they would give up on their goal one month into the new year? It seemed like a far too disappointing cycle for her. 

But this year… this year was different. 

The ending of this year also meant that the lease on her current apartment was ending. Now, don’t get her wrong! Y/n doesn’t hate her roommates or anything. She’s actually incredibly close with the three girls that she’d spent the last two years living with, and considers them to be some of her closest friends.

But, as the months went by, y/n realized that a two bedroom, one bathroom flat was far too small for four girls to peacefully coexist in. They were always nagging each other to clean the dishes, fighting over who gets to shower first in their tiny bathroom. And honestly… she was getting really tired of listening to Nia (a business major) rehearse presentations at 3 AM. 

So, when y/n timidly mentioned that she was thinking about moving out, the three other girls agreed that their living situation wasn’t the most ideal, promised that they would still remain besties even if they didn’t live with each other, and began to search for their own places so that they could turn in their keys at the end of the year. 

For the first time in her life, y/n had a place of her own. And that was honestly the best thing the new year could’ve brought for her. 

+++

It’s safe to say that the first morning y/n wakes up in her new apartment is undoubtedly one the most euphoric moments she’s ever experienced.

The window facing her bed allows for the morning sun to light up her room, slowly rousing her from her slumber. She blinks her eyes open, and it takes a moment for her to fully recognize that: no, she’s not dreaming and yes, she’s actually in her new apartment!

She sits up and stretches, flexing her muscles and twisting her back until she hears the delicious sound of her spine cracking – a sign that she’d slept through the night like a baby. Glancing out the window, she notices a little bluebird perched on her balcony’s railing. 

Yes, a balcony! 

It had actually been one of the main reasons she chose this apartment building. Although it was a rather small balcony, she immediately fell in love with it. The railings were twisted and had a rustic look that reminded her of the balcony Juliet would stand on in a Shakespearian play, and it overlooked a beautiful cobblestone street. When she first saw the balcony during the apartment tour, she immediately envisioned herself spending her mornings out here with a nice cup of tea, maybe doing her assigned readings out in the fresh air. There was just enough room for y/n to make a cozy little nook for herself, with fairy lights strung around railings and fluffy pillows piled on loveseats for her to chill out on.

She scrambles out of her bed and rushes over to the window, smudging the glass with her fingertips as her palms press flat against it. The glass is ice cold to the touch and fogs up around her nose, a sign of how cold the morning air outside must be. Dressed in a pair of flowery sleep shorts and a sweatshirt with her university’s logo embroidered on the front, she’s hardly dressed appropriately – but she slides the glass door open anyway and steps out onto the balcony. She can’t help it, she’s just so excited! 

As soon as she slides the door open, the chilly air invades her senses, her lungs burning and legs prickling with goosebumps. She leans her forearms on the railing and looks at the street below, empty of any cars or people. Directly across the street from her building, she sees a small antique store, and right next to that, a cute little cafe with cartoonish snowflakes painted onto the glass windows. Dozens of other restaurants and boutiques line the street, not yet open but anticipating the rush of people that would most likely flood in within the next few hours. y/n makes a mental note to herself to text her ex-roommates and invite them to visit the coffee shop she currently had her eye on.

Yeah, maybe it was a little cold, and maybe there’s nowhere to sit, but honestly, all y/n could think about was how much she loved her brand new balcony in her brand new apartment. 

Life couldn’t get any better than this. 

+++

Harry isn't too big on New Year’s resolutions. 

You see, he’s not fond of forcing himself to do things (the more pressure he has on himself to finish something, the less he wants to do it), and he really doesn’t like dealing with the inevitable end of year disappointment that comes with not finishing what he starts. He knows the chances of him actually going through with his resolutions are quite slim, so he doesn’t find a point in establishing any.

Therefore, he really only has one goal for the upcoming year. Don’t let Thumper die.

Thumper is the love of Harry’s life. When Harry realized just how lonely living alone could get, he decided he needed a companion to love and care for. He had the fullest intentions of going to his local adoption center and befriending a little kitty like Evie (his cat back home) so that the two cats could get along when he visited his family. But, when he stepped into the adoption center and saw Thumper, tiny and frail compared to most bunnies his age, he knew he had found his new best friend.

So really, Harry’s only “resolution” is something he knows he wouldn’t be giving up on any time soon.

As he brews himself a steaming vanilla latte (with a shot of caramel cream on top), he gives Thumper a little bit of food, petting at the bunny’s furry cheeks as he nibbles some hay from his fingers. When he turns away momentarily to pour his brewed coffee into a mug, the rabbit proceeds to thump its clunky hind feet (hence the name), begging to be the center of Harry’s attention once again. 

Obviously, Harry could never ignore his bunny’s pleas for love – so he quickly picks up his mug in one hand, and, similar to the way a mother holds their newborn baby, coddles Thumper to his chest with the other. Thumper tends to get uneasy when he’s high up from the ground, usually thumping against Harry’s forearms to display his displeasure, so Harry always makes sure he’s sitting or lying down when cuddling with his bunny. Taking a seat on his pink sofa, he turns the TV on to a random news channel and gently runs his hand up and down Thumper’s back, cooing every time the fluffy bunny twitches his tiny nose with approval. 

Once Thumper is happily settled and Harry’s finished with his coffee, he places Thumper back into his comfy den and puts his dirty mug in the sink. Grabbing the watering can from right underneath, he fills the can until he has a suitable amount of water for the flowers he grows on his balcony. 

Whistling along to a happy tune (“Whistle While You Work” from Snow White), he steps onto the balcony and takes a deep lung-full of the pristine air. The sky was serene, the morning dew was fresh on the railing, and everything was at peace.

That is, until an unrecognizable voice far too energetic for the tranquil calm of the morning startles him. 

“Hi!”

Harry drops the watering can out of surprise and whirls around, yelping out a “bloody hell!” before his eyes land on a stranger.

“Who are you?” he grumbles, putting a hand on his chest to calm his pounding heart, thumping hard from the scare. 

The girl’s eyes widen, clearly not having expected to get such a reaction from her neighbor, and she carefully introduces herself, much quieter than the initial greeting she’d just given him. “Umm, I’m y/n. I just moved in.” She flashes him an apologetic smile, “Sorry for scaring you, wasn’t my intention.”

Harry looks down to assess the damage his startle caused. His watering can is on its side, laying in a puddle and steadily leaking out water, while his sock-covered feet are soaked through (one his biggest pet peeves are wet socks). 

Looking back up to the girl, he sees her nervously chewing on her lip and fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt. She seems more scared of him than he had been of her, and very timidly makes eye contact with him, praying that he wouldn’t explode on her. 

Harry saves his breath. 

“That’s alright,” he responds as nicely as he can muster up (wet socks = grumpy Harry), picking up the watering can from the floor. He runs into his apartment, slipping on a new, dry pair of socks, refilling the watering can, and grabbing a towel to clean up his balcony. 

Y/n still has her brows furrowed in distress when he comes back outside, quickly confessing, “I really am sorry… I didn’t mean to make you jump. I was just excited to meet my new neighbor, I guess.”

He doesn’t make eye contact with her when he says, “Don’t worry about it. Everything’s okay. No need to fret,” focusing his attention, instead, on making sure the floors are dry.  

“I just moved in yesterday you know! I dunno if you saw all the boxes n’ stuff, but that was me!” Christ, was she still there? He thought she would’ve gone back inside after he gave so little attention to her.

Again, he barely looks in her direction when he responds, “I hadn’t noticed anyone was moving in.” His answer is short, clipped, and uninterested.

The girl carries on the conversation, “Yeah, I’m super excited about moving in and everything! It’s my first time living without anyone and it’s just so nice to have all this space to myself– y’know I made some cookies last night, and I was gonna bring ‘em over later today to introduce myself but since we already met I could totally bring them over–”

Harry cuts her off right there. “Don’t put yourself through the trouble,” he says tersely, sparing her one final glance before walking back into his apartment. 

He holds eye contact with her as he slides the balcony door shut. 

+++

Y/n’s positive she’s made her neighbor hate her.

She’s drinking coffee with her ex-roommates, Sameera, Savanna, and Nia, at the coffee shop she saw earlier that morning from her balcony window, explaining her conundrum.

“I just don’t know what to do! I didn’t do anything to make him hate me. I mean, except for balcony thing, but obviously I didn’t mean to scare him! He wouldn’t even look at me!”

She tried to make things up to him, greeting him calmly on the balcony the next time they were out there at the same time, but only managed to get the grimest acknowledgement from him. He avoided eye contact with her whenever they passed each other in the hallways, would shut his door if he ever saw her coming out at the same time as him, and would stay silent if they ever got caught in the elevator together. 

He hates her, she’s sure of it. 

At this point, she’s honestly just given up, opting to just sit with her mug and book silently when he watered his plants on the balcony each morning. Far better than the hurt she’d feel when he’d inevitably ignore her if she tried to make small talk again.   

“Maybe he’s got a fragile sense of masculinity and is embarrassed that he got scared by a girl,” Nia says, taking a bite of her croissant, “so now he can’t face you anymore.” 

Sameera adds on to that, “Or he’s intimidated by you. Is he ugly? Ugly guys tend to be intimidated by pretty girls.”

Y/n is quick to deny this with a furrow in her brows. “Oh, but he’s not! He was really cute,” she pouts. Considering his reluctance to make eye contact with her during their short conversation, y/n had plenty of time to unabashedly admire her next door neighbor. He had chocolate brown hair, swept atop his head in messy waves and bright green eyes that glimmered in the dreary, gray morning weather. And though he had an intimidating demeanor, with his short attitude and furrowed brows, the fact that he was wrapped up in a fuzzy, lavender sweatshirt made him ever so endearing to her. 

Call her crazy, but she has a bit of a crush. 

“What’s his name?” asks Savanna, chiming into the conversation for the first time. 

Y/n has to think for a moment before she responds. “I don’t think he even told me! I just said hey and he walked away from me!” She sits back and crosses her arms, huffing sadly, “Maybe this is a sign from the universe that I should just stay away from boys in general.”

“Don’t say that!” Savanna defends, “You’re beautiful and a total sweetheart. Nia’s right, he probably just has a bruised ego for now. Just be yourself and I’m sure he’ll come around.”

+++

Being herself doesn’t work.

Yesterday, when she’d clearly been running with all of her groceries to catch the elevator, he made direct eye contact with her as the doors shut. Made no effort to hold the elevator for her. Just watched her struggle with her groceries as the elevators closed.

Y/n accepts the fact that he’s probably not going to come around.

+++

It’s 10 PM on a Tuesday night when someone comes frantically knocking on y/n’s door.

She’d just been painting in her living room (a casual hobby of hers), dressed in a pair of dark blue, denim overalls splattered with paint, when out of nowhere someone was at her door, knocking as if they were in a life or death situation. 

She has no idea who it could be, and is honestly a bit frightened considering this person is pounding on her door so violently, but she hurries over to the door. Peeking out of the peephole, she’s met with a very familiar furrowed brow. 

It’s Harry, her next door neighbor. Except, for the first time, he looks more stressed than angry. 

She opens the door, a bit embarrassed in her messy painting overalls. She chews on her lip and she stands nervously behind her door, almost as if she’s using it to protect herself. “Hi?” she says timidly, worried about why he might be at her door. Had she done something to make him angry? Was her music too loud or something? 

His hair, normally curled atop his head neatly in chocolate colored swirls, now sticks out in every direction as if he’d been running his hands through it constantly, and his eyes are wide and frantic. “My sister…” he pants, out of breath as if he’d run a mile to get here, “She’s in labor. I-I have to go to see her, could you–,” he pauses to catch his breath, chest rising heavily. “Could you please take care of my bunny while I’m gone?”

She blinks for a second. This man, who’d been so cold and mean to her ever since she moved in, was in front of her door… begging her to take care of his bunny? 

“Oh!” This was definitely not what she expected when she opened the door and saw Harry standing there. She thought that he was for sure about to yell at her for something, tell her to turn the music down or blow out her candles because he could smell them from his apartment.

This, however… this she could work with. Maybe it would make him finally come around.

“Yes!” she exclaims, after a second. “Oh my gosh, yes, of course! What do you need me to do?”

His shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you,” he says gratefully, letting out a deep breath. He knows that he hasn’t necessarily been the nicest to her and had been worried that she might tell him to fuck off (rightfully so), but he was desperate, and thankfully… she’s an angel. 

He ushers her into his apartment, which (as respectfully as she can put it) looks like a tornado has just passed through it. A pile of unopened mail sits on his kitchen counter, abandoned in his rush to get packed, and what seems to be his dinner sits half eaten on his dinner table, fork thrown onto the table next to his plate with a piece of broccoli still hanging onto it. A lone suitcase sits in the middle of his living room, piled with clothes that aren’t folded – just haphazardly thrown in there. It’s abundantly clear that he’s been frantically rushing around his apartment, trying to pack all his stuff together while also figuring out what to do with Thumper.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes over his shoulder, double checking that she’s still within earshot with how fast he’s running around into his apartment. “I-I wasn’t planning on having to go see her so soon, she’s not due for another three weeks,” he rambles, messily shoving a pant leg into his suitcase as he zips it up. “But then she called, and she’s all alone, and–” he looks up at her with wide, earnest eyes, “I just have to be there for her.” 

“Hey, don’t be sorry,” she says gently. “I totally get it. It’s no problem.”

He stares at her for a second, eyes flickering between hers, a soft look in his eye. It seems like he’s about to say something– but he stops himself. Instead, he walks over to a large bunny playpen, filled with hay and piles of soft blankets and towels. 

Sitting atop one of those worn-out blankets is a fluffy white bunny, nibbling softly on a piece of hay. Harry reaches in and gently picks the little bunny up, who fits perfectly in the palm of his hand. “This is Thumper,” Harry introduces softly, his finger gently petting along the little bunny’s back. “Thumper, this is y/n. She’s gonna take care of you while I'm gone.”  The little bunny’s nose twitches softly, chewing on his hay mindlessly.

Y/n doesn’t know what she expected from Harry, but it definitely wasn’t this. From all of her interactions with him, he just seemed so cold and mean and intimidating! But watching him pet his little bunny that sits so peacefully in his large, tattooed hands… hearing him talk to this tiny ball of white fur as if it’s a real person… well it just makes Harry look like a bit of a softie, to be honest. It’s a side of her grumpy neighbor that she never could’ve imagined. 

“Hi Thumper,” she coos, taking a timid step forward. “You’re just the cutest thing in the world.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Harry says proudly, a soft dimple in his cheek as he smiles down at his bunny that he loves so much. 

Passing Thumper over to her, he maneuvers her hands so that the bunny is resting comfortably. “He likes to be held like this,” he instructs, his hands brushing against hers, “On his stomach, so he can look around. Sometimes he gets a bit nervous when he’s too high up from the ground for a long time, so if he starts thumping that just means he wants to be put down again.”

She nods, copying the way he’d been holding Thumper to the best of her ability. The bunny feels so small and fragile in her hold and she’s terrified of hurting him – but Thumper just twitches his nose gently, completely unaffected by whatever is going on around him. 

“This is where he sleeps and spends most of his time,” Harry continues, pointing down at the little den of blankets. “But if you can, try to take him outside for at least an hour everyday. I made the balcony bunny proof and there’s a little grassy area out there with all his toys, so just let him hop around there for a bit. Maybe hang out with him if you can, he’s really playful. It’s just really important for his health, to be outside and have some playtime.” 

He puts his hands on his hips and stares at his bunny, who seems totally content in y/n’s arms. A weight is lifted off his shoulders, seeing that Thumper feels comfortable in the arms of this half-stranger. It makes him feel a little less guilty for having to leave him so suddenly. 

Harry checks the clock. “Shit!” he cries, gathering his bearings once more. His sister lives almost two hours away, so he needs to leave now. 

She follows him, Thumper still in his arms, as he scrambles towards the kitchen. “This is his food,” he says, pulling out a bag of leafy, green vegetables – a nice mix of lettuce, kale, cabbage, and parsley – from his fridge. “Give him a bowlful of these veggies twice a day. He’s not on a really strict schedule, just give him some whenever you have breakfast and dinner. And you saw, he has a bunch of hay in his cage too, which he snacks on all day, so it’s okay if you’re a little late.” 

He’s running around his apartment, grabbing things and shoving them into his suitcase at the last minute, and calling out instructions to y/n as fast as he can – frantic, stressed out, with absolutely no time to waste. Y/n watches him with wide eyes, absorbing everything he says, while Thumper sits in her arms quietly completely unbothered by Harry’s frantic bustling. 

“Um, if he’s being annoying or thumping or anything like that, give him a treat – they’re in this jar – and he’ll probably calm down. I’m pretty generous with the treats ‘cos he’s just such a good bunny, but also he needs to watch his diet, so I’d limit him to like… 10-12 pellets per day.” 

He runs to the living room and picks up his suitcase, dragging it to the door frantically while still spewing out instructions. “He loves cuddling, and he’s a really good bunny so you can leave him on the couch or on my bed and he won’t like– chew anything up. And if it gets really cold at night he has a heating pad in his playpen, just put it in the microwave for a minute or two, and he’ll get on top of it if he wants.”

“Here’s my number if you need anything,” he says, scribbling down his phone number onto one of the abandoned pieces of mail sitting on his kitchen counter. “That’s a three, I know it doesn’t look like it, sorry!” He slams the pen down on the counter and runs into his bedroom, then hurries back out with a backpack, filled to the brim with all his toiletries and other essentials. What seems to be his phone charger hangs out of the front pocket, just about ready to pop out and fall to the ground, but he shoves it in and somehow manages to zip up the overstuffed bag. 

“Okay,” he sighs, letting out a deep breath. Now that he’s all packed up and ready to go, he lets himself slow down for a second. He takes a look around to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, then turns around to face y/n. Thumper looks up at Harry with his cute little eyes.

“Alright bud, I gotta go,” he whispers quietly, petting the bunny’s cheeks. “Be good, okay?” He leans forward and presses a little kiss against Thumper’s forehead, his cheek brushing against y/n’s arm, who still has Thumper coddled to her chest. 

“I should be back soon,” he says to y/n, looking at her with gentle eyes. “Thank you again, for taking care of him. I know it’s all last minute.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says with a smile.

Harry smiles back at her softly. The first time she’s ever seen him look at her with a smile. It makes her heart flutter happily, one step closer to making her neighbor stop hating her. 

“Here’s the key to my apartment. I… I’ve got to go now. But text me if anything happens.”

With a final deep breath and a pat on Thumper’s head, Harry heads out the door and runs to the elevator.

And then it’s just y/n and Thumper, alone in Harry’s apartment.

Who would’ve thought. 

+++

Y/n doesn’t really have much experience with bunnies… but she imagines that if she were a bunny and her bunny Dad randomly left her with a stranger in the middle of the night, then she’d be a pretty stressed out bunny. 

Luckily, Thumper seems pretty relaxed. 

After Harry left, she just put him back into his playpen and watched him chew on some hay and relax on his comfy pile of blankets. She warmed up his heating pad, just as Harry instructed, but Thumper didn’t even need it. He just headed to bed like a good little bunny and went through the night peacefully, with only the occasional twitch of his nose and a little scuffle as if he were having a rabbit dream.  

Just to be safe, y/n spent the night on Harry’s couch, sleeping right next to Thumper’s little pen just in case he started thumping in the middle of the night and needed some attention. In the morning, she scuttled back to her apartment to make herself a quick breakfast, then hurried back to give Thumper his morning veggies. And in the time that she’d normally spend reading on her own balcony, she instead went out onto Harry’s balcony and watched as Thumper happily hopped around in the grass and played with his little bunny toys. 

She runs into very little problems while bunny-sitting for Harry, and actually finds herself particularly fond of this fluffy little creature. But she wonders, even if she has no questions for Harry, should she still send him a text? He left her his number in case she had any questions, but he’d probably wouldn’t mind an update text either? I mean… if she were a Bunny Dad and she had to randomly leave her bunny in the middle of the night, then she’d probably want to know that her bunny was safe and happy! 

After much overthinking and lots of nervous pacing around Harry’s kitchen, she decides to send him a text. A simple, “Hi, it’s y/n!” accompanied with a cute picture of Thumper, chomping on some lettuce with his floppy ears hanging cutely and his big eyes glimmering. She then follows it with another text, saying that they just ate some breakfast together and went out on the balcony for some morning playtime.

She throws her phone down after she sends the text, beyond nervous to be sending messages to the grumpy neighbor that had scared her for so long. She jumps when her phone chimes with a message less than a minute later, apologizing to Thumper who gives an annoyed thump, as if he’s telling her to stop being so dramatic. 

“How’s he behaving?” reads Harry’s response. 

“Like an angel!” she says. “Slept through the night without any thumping and had lots of fun playing in the grass.”

“Good,” he texts back, and she thinks that’s the end of it. But after a minute another message comes through. “Give him an extra treat from me, he deserves it :)”

A smiley face! Who knew grumpy Harry knew how to use smiley faces. 

She sends back a picture of Thumper with his treat. And a smiley face for good measure. 

:) 

+++

Harry comes back home five days later.

He’d managed to make it to the hospital just in time. His sister had been in active labor on her own for about four hours at that point, and spent another four hours in excruciating pain once Harry got there. His mum arrived around 45 minutes after he did, and Miles (his sister’s husband, aka the father of this child), arrived last, only about 30 minutes before she was fully dilated and ready to start pushing. 

All of them had scrambled to make it there on time, considering how unexpected and early his sister went into labor. He’s just thankful that Miles and his Mum were there too, so that he wouldn’t have to be the one holding her hand while she pushed (as supportive as he wanted to be, he had to leave the room or else he would’ve passed out). 

The baby did come a bit early, but after a few tests the doctors said that she was fine, just a bit smaller than usual! They spent the night in the hospital, just to be safe, and were discharged to go home as a happy little family the next morning. 

Harry and his mum stayed with Gemma and Miles in their cozy little for a few days, helping around the house while the new parents rested and recovered. Harry helped with the finishing touches of the nursery and went out shopping for extra diapers and baby toys, while his mom cooked homey meals for her kids and tutted over her new granddaughter.

It was nice for them to be all together again, celebrating the newest addition to their happy family, but after a few days the guilt of being away from Thumper for so long was growing too heavy. His mum promised to stay with Gemma and make sure that she’s recovering well, and with a kiss to his newborn baby niece, he headed back home to his precious baby bunny. 

He unlocks his door, dragging his suitcase in behind him, and faintly hears a soft, sweet voice from inside. He abandons his suitcase and tiptoes closer and closer to the voice. He finds y/n, out on his balcony with Thumper. 

“You are so cute!” she says to Thumper, sitting on her knees and rolling a little ball towards him, which Thumper nudges back with his nose. “I wish I could give you another treat, but your Dad said not to give you too many… I dunno though, should we break the rules a little bit? One extra treat since you’re being such a good bunny?”

Thumper’s nose twitches excitedly, as if he knows that she’s about to reward him with another treat, and Harry’s heart flutters in his chest. This scene – y/n, talking to his little bunny as if he’s a real person, coddling him and giving him treats – it’s a bit endearing. He tries to stop the soft smile growing on his face, to ignore the fuzzy feeling in his tummy… but he can’t help it. He’s endeared. 

He tries to casually lean against his couch and watch the scene for a few more moments, but he accidentally knocks a pen off of his coffee table, making y/n yelp and turn around. “Oh!” she bubbles, “Hi Harry!” 

He straightens himself out and clears his throat, wiping the silly smile off his face and trying to come off as neutral as possible. “Hello,” he says, with a polite nod of his head. 

“How was your sister? Did you have a nice trip?” “Y-yeah it was good, thanks,” he twists his hands nervously behind his back. “She had a little baby girl. Healthy and happy. It was really nice.” 

Y/n’s eyes round out, a soft glimmer in them. “Oh, I’m so happy to hear that.” 

He ignores the fluttering in his stomach, and wipes away the nervous sweat of his hands onto his pants. “Um– How was Thumper?” 

“A right angel!” she exclaims, picking Thumper up and handing him over to Harry. “Wish I could steal him from you. If you ever need me to watch him again, don’t be afraid to ask, I loved hanging out with him.”

Harry can’t help the dimple that pops out on his cheek, blushing slightly at her kind words and pretty smile. “I– Really, I can’t thank you enough.”

“No worries, honestly! Just don’t be a stranger,” she says, a playful glimmer in her eye. 

+++

The next morning, sitting on her balcony with her mug in hand, she watches anxiously as Harry steps out of his apartment with his watering can. 

Would things go back to normal, with him ignoring her and hating her and pretending she doesn’t exist? Or… has he finally come around?

She holds her breath as he slides his balcony open. He looks at her. She looks at him.

He breaks a smile. “Good morning,” he says, dimple in cheek.

She exhales. 

“Good morning, Harry,” she responds with a grin.

+++

Y/n hates thunderstorms. 

She hates the sound of thunder, hates how loud and unexpected it is. Hates how her entire body trembles when thunder crashes outside her window, hates how she can feel it shake her apartment. And lightning… don’t even get her started on lightning! She has a recurring nightmare that she’s sound asleep, only to be woken up by electrocution ‘cos the lightning bolt decided her bed was the perfect place to land. 

Now, when she lived in her old apartment, she was lucky enough to have amazing roommates who would comfort her during really bad storms. She could sit and talk with Sameera until the storm passed, watch a movie with Savanna to block out the sounds of thunder. Sometimes, if the storm was really bad, Nia would even cuddle y/n to sleep so that she’d calm down. Y/n would bury herself in her roommate’s loving arms, hiding her face in Nia’s chest as she willed away the anxiety attacks and tried not to cry every time she felt the rumbling thunder outside. 

Now that she lives on her own, however, she has nobody to comfort her. 

She thought it’d be fine, told herself that she’s far too grown to still be hiding in her closet whenever it rained a little bit outside! So she climbed into her bed, snuggled herself under her blankets, and turned on a movie, ignoring the storm outside to the best of her ability. With her pretty fairy lights turned on, her favorite movie playing (Pride and Prejudice 2005), and her headphones blocking out all the thunder, she was 100% confident that she’d be able to get through the night all on her own!

That is… until the power went out. 

Her movie paused, her heater went silent, and her fairy lights suddenly turned off. She tried to turn on the main light in her room, but the light switch flicked on and off with no effect. Same with her desk lamp, and the light in her bathroom. Everything was pitch black.

Sitting in the dark, with only flashes of lightning to illuminate her room… it was terrifying for y/n. 

She scrambled to turn on the flashlight on her phone, and felt her heart drop when she saw that she was only at 9%. How was she going to survive the night without her phone? She rushes around, trying to see if she has any extra flashlights or candles… but her emergency flashlight has no batteries, and although she has a wide variety of candles to choose from… she has no matches in her new apartment. 

She’s thoroughly fucked. 

A bolt of lightning strikes outside, followed by a crash of thunder that makes y/n yelp and fall to the floor. She’s on the verge of tears, with nowhere to turn and nothing to comfort her… when she gets a text.

Harry: Everything alright in your apartment? 

Her hands tremble as she types out a response. 

Not really :( she responds. trying to find a flashlight or something but im having no luck and my phones gonna die soon :( 

Another rumble of thunder shakes her apartment. She closes her eyes and tries to regulate her breathing with shaky inhales and whimpery exhales. 

Harry responds a minute later.

Do you want to come over to mine? 

+++

 PART 2 IS ALREADY POSTED ON PATREON :) HOPE U LOVE EM!!!! 

[thismaydestroyme]

arabella harry: age 23

he’s a lead vocalist

hes a chain smoker (yummmmy!)

he got a vasectomy

he screws anything if it has a pair of leg

hes reckless

and most importantly… mr. grumpy

[1d1195]

Have a Nice Day, Miss

Harry is the doorman for a very luxurious apartment building that is home to a lot of wealth. There's a new resident moving into her uncle's apartment: 12A. Harry doesn't want to like her. But he might not have a choice.

The doorman at her new apartment building is really cute and a little rough around the edges. He always tells her to have a nice day even though she doesn't always have good days. Even though he doesn't look like he's having a good day. She likes him anyway.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Part X

Part XI - soon

[1d1195]

Have a Nice Day, Miss - Part VI

Read Have a Nice Day, Miss here | ~7.2k words

From Me/Warnings: Tiny bit of a filler episode but. I noticed a lot of the previous parts were heavy on Harry’s POV so I wanted to even the score a little bit. (Especially knowing Part VII is pretty heavily Harry’s POV as well) which truthfully I don’t mind at all/love writing BUT. There is a tiny bit of Harry’s POV, hopefully it’s not too distracting that it’s so uneven. Warnings: vomit and some minor scrapes and cuts

Summary: He may as well have undressed her right there in entryway of Kingsley Place. Her stomach was competing with her heart to do as many backflips as possible. They could have had their own spots in the Olympics.

Harry was standing at the main door when she returned to Kingsley Place. She was pretty good at imagining things when it came to Harry these days. It was almost akin to coming home to him and being greeted by a doting husband.

Her cheeks warmed at the sight of his sweet half smile. “Good morning.”

“Hi Harry.”

“Y’look a lot more rested this morning, how are y’feeling?” He asked.

Her heart was doing backflips as he gazed at her. So, she was fine but overwhelmed still. “Much better, thank you. They were doing some special and I got to go to the spa for free,” she glanced at the ground. “I’ve never done that before,” she scuffed her shoe against the sidewalk. “It felt really extravagant and lavish. It was nice. I cried,” she admitted and she could feel more tears filling her eyes at the memory and just how overwhelmed she was yesterday.

The small smile stayed in place on his undeniably pretty mouth. “S’nice, darling. Y’deserved it. How did y’sleep?”

“Really good,” she nodded. “If I was able to carry it, I would have stolen that bed right from the hotel.”

He chuckled quietly under his breath. “Noted,” he nodded. “I called your mattress company and told them t’refund you immediately. Will y’keep an eye on y’statement t’make sure it happens?”

Her jaw fell slack. “You did?”

“Yeah, I know I probably shouldn’t, but I throw around some of the names around here,” he shrugged and looked away sheepishly. “I know Arthur wouldn’t mind,” he explained. “If y’have any problems ordering a new bed let me know.”

It felt intimate in a way she couldn’t describe. Maybe because it was a bed and it was inherently an intimate thing. After her visit to the spa, she lied on that luxurious mattress and thought about Harry in a way that she definitely shouldn’t have. Was it extra warm out today? She thought to herself. Hopefully her face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Thank you, that was very kind of you. I’ve been putting that off for way too long.”

“Happy t’help,” he nodded softly. “Let me know when y’order a new mattress so I can make sure s’delivered on time,” he looked at her pointedly. “Y’should’ve said something when y’moved in,” he reminded her.

She almost felt like she was in trouble. Disappointing Harry made her stomach knot uneasily. “Sorry,” she looked away embarrassedly. “It just didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, and I got so tired and overwhelmed settling in and getting routines—”

“S’quite literally part of m’job, love,” he stated. That simply didn’t seem true, but she wasn’t going to argue with him because she rather enjoyed the way he took charge of things and took care of something for her.

“Have you heard from Aurelia and her mother?” She asked. “I realized as I was falling asleep, I didn’t even follow up—”

He shook his head to interrupt her. “Mrs. Higgins and Aurelia are fine,” he assured her. “They came back late last night. I’m sure they’ll be by to thank you themselves.”

She felt warmth flooding her cheeks again and she shifted her bag on her shoulder. For a one-night stay, she sure knew how to pack a lot of stuff. Or maybe it was all the free samples that Raleigh gave her at the spa. It seemed like a crazy waste of resources even if there was some promotion. No way was it sustainable for multiple guests. But it really did make her shitty day so much better getting the luxurious spa treatment. The samples were a sweet bonus.

Harry’s eyes dropped to the bag strap, and he reached for it at the same time as she settled it on her other shoulder. His fingers brushed her collarbone as he took hold of it, then he slid the strap down her arm. He grabbed the door almost in the same movement and tilted his head for her to enter. “After you.”

He may as well have undressed her right there in entryway of Kingsley Place. Her stomach was competing with her heart to do as many backflips as possible. They could have had their own spots in the Olympics. She moved past him and bit the inside of her lip. They quietly walked through the silent lobby. No excitement compared to the day before. Harry pressed the elevator button and waited patiently for its arrival. “Are you going for a run tonight?” She asked once it arrived. Practically blurted it. She felt unbelievably awkward with the silence as comfortable as it was. Maybe because she worried she was going to beg Harry to kiss her or something. She stepped on the elevator and Harry joined her, still holding her bag and pressing the number 12 button.

“As long as the rain holds out. D’you want me t’wait for you?”

 “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” he answered quickly.

She felt a relieved smile spread across her lips and she nodded again. “Okay, I’ll be ready at the usual time?” She asked. Did Harry have even the smallest concept of how much she liked a usual anything with him?

“Sounds good, darling.”

Good God, she was going to melt into a puddle on the floor of the elevator and Mrs. Wentworth would probably call for her execution. Harry pressed his hand to the elevator door sliding within the wall and gestured for her to exit. She took the keys from her raincoat pocket and unlocked her door. Harry pushed the door open and set her bag inside the entryway before stepping back from her apartment. “Do y’want me t’send coffee up? Or do you need anything else?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’m good, Harry. Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“Of course. Have a nice day, Miss. See you later.”

“Have a nice day, Harry.”

*

Harry was in the lobby, but he was sitting in the seat near the fireplace that she quite honestly designated as her seat. Which made no sense at all, but she couldn’t help it. She also couldn’t help Harry looked undeniably hot sitting there and she was thinking of all the things she shouldn’t when she was about to spend at least forty-five minutes running around their city with him. It was warmer today since spring was approaching quickly. He had bright red shorts on and a long-sleeved black shirt that looked like it would wick all the sweat away.

It was the first time she’d seen his thighs ever and she realized her imagination that ran wild in her hotel bed the night before didn’t compare to reality. There was this small voice in her head that sounded downright deranged, begging her to bite his thigh. “Hi,” she greeted. He smiled, his signature half-grin and stood up from his seat.

“Hi,” he answered. “Y’have a nice day?”

“Got caught up on a few things.”

“Did y’look for a new mattress?” He asked.

She felt guilty she hadn’t; it didn’t even cross her mind because she was trying to catch up on all the other little plans and things she needed to get done. She was planning a visit to her family, and it was exhausting just thinking about it and maybe a bed would help. “I’m still comparing some options,” she explained fibbing only slightly. It wasn’t a bad lie or an over-the-top one. It was kind of true. She just didn’t have a lot to compare. “I have to call the hotel and ask what kind of bed they have.”

He chuckled. “I can find out for you. If y’want.”

She felt her body throb all over. It was a simple favor, a small offer and it still made her entire body freak out. But Harry already did so much for her, and she didn’t know if she could ever repay him for how nice he was to her and asking him to do one more thing might make her a little insane. “I can do it,” she swallowed. “I appreciate it.”

They walked toward the exit and Harry held the door open for her. She wondered if he got tired of doing that or if he would have done it whether he was the doorman or not. (She kind of figured he’d do it anyway but still.) They jogged slowly at first as they always did. Harry often ran ahead of her because he was better and faster than her. She looked opposite of him today, long pants and a sleeveless tank top. Even if spring was approaching and it was much warmer than it had been, the pressure of the cold air felt good on her arms. She tried not to breathe like she was dying as she listened to Harry’s steady footfalls ahead of her.

She also tried not to stare at his cute butt the entire time, but she was only human.

Harry slowed just a bit and she wondered what for. But swiftly without breaking stride, he pulled his shirt over his head. The muscles in his back contracted with the movement and the deranged little voice in her head asked her to not only bite his thigh (and biceps and calves) but now it asked to lick up and down his sweaty spine.

So of course she tripped.

She skidded ungracefully and she was so thankful that Harry was in front of her and didn’t witness her fall. Like a child, the knee of her pants ripped a bit. She got matching scrapes on her kneecaps and palms from the sidewalk as she caught herself. “Fuck,” she whispered gasping at the sting in her skin.

“Are you alright?” Harry turned back quickly from a few paces ahead of her, probably hearing her missteps and subsequent fall.

As he turned back for her, she realized it was actually really good that she had fallen before he turned around. It was very probable that she would have fallen into the street then hit by a car or something, if she had witnessed the front of his body beneath his shirt before she saw his back. This was the least of the two injuries she could have suffered, for sure.

Her mind went blank for a moment as she tried to process what Harry was asking her. She most certainly was not alright. How could she be? His abs and tattoos were on full display, and it was wildly unfair that all that was hiding under his black shirts and suits all day every day. Was she drooling? It was possible. “Darling?” He asked crouching in front of her. His eyebrows pinched together in worry, and he was still breathing a little unevenly from the whole exercise thing.

Meanwhile her lack of air had nothing to do with running. Well, not her running. She caught sight of the sweat that rolled down his body. She swore she saw a droplet travel over each ridge of his individual ab muscles like water flowing over freshly dug trenches in a garden bed. She blinked and shook her head. “I’m alright,” she said quickly. “Just tripped like an idiot,” she looked away embarrassed. Also, she needed a reprieve from how hot he looked because the deranged little voice in her head was starting to sound an awful lot like her own inner monologue voice. “I think I’ll head back and clean up my scrapes,” she smiled awkwardly. “But you should finish your run,” she bit her lip. “Sorry to interrupt as is.”

He stood up and reached for her hands at the same time helping her to her feet carefully avoiding the scrapes on her skin. “Lemme see,” he murmured and cradled one hand in his palm up. He inspected it quickly, then softly brushed his discarded shirt over her hand ridding it of any large dirt particles. Without asking, he did the same with her other hand; carefully cradled it in his and brushed his shirt over it.

Good God.

Harry leaned down a bit and brushed her knees as well. He stood to his full height and tilted his head in the direction they came. “Let’s head back then and get y’cleaned up.”

Since Harry’s body clearly was some sort of personal torture device, she made some insane sound. A cross between a scoff, a snort, and a gasp. “Harry, I don’t want to—”

“S’okay,” he shrugged. “We can jus’ go for another run tomorrow. Y’wouldn’t let me run if I got hurt, m’sure, Dr. Alden,” his half smile and the sweat in his hair was all too much for her. What the fuck was happening to her?

It had to be the hotel bed and that spa. She was too relaxed. Too overwhelmed. Plus, there was the whole thing where Harry held her yesterday to comfort her that was still a very happy memory despite how sad she had been at the time. Holy shit she touched those muscles and she didn’t even know the half of what he was hiding.

His hand gently touched her lower back to get her moving. He draped his shirt over his shoulder, and they walked almost silently for a couple blocks. When they went through a busy crosswalk, Harry’s hand pressed to the middle of her back, and it nearly sent her right back to the ground.

“Did you have a nice day?” She asked suddenly. It was so random but clearly the brain that got her through med school was no longer party to her body. Fortunately, Harry must not have noticed nor cared.

“It was alright,” he shrugged. “Saturdays are kind of boring. Everyone’s usually out and about for a while or holed up in their places after the work week.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Mrs. Wentworth has been on another level this week,” he shook his head opting for some small talk over the din of the city sounds around them.

“I know,” she rolled her eyes. “The scuffing the elevator floor might have been what set me over the edge yesterday.”

He smirked almost sadly. “Y’didn’t even scuff it. I checked.”

“Why’s she so crotchety anyway?”

Harry sighed and shrugged. “All the money in the world can’t buy happiness, you know?”

She nodded knowingly. “I agree completely.”

“Do y’have any plans for the next couple days?” He asked.

The walk back took twice as long as the run, which was great because she genuinely loved spending time with Harry and it was rare they had long lengths of time together when he was working or there was always something else to deal with. “Not really. Hopefully I’ll finish painting finally. Every time I start a new project, another thing pops up.”

“Do y’need help?”

That very well could have been the sexiest thing any man, but especially Harry, had ever said to her. “Uh…” she shrugged one shoulder. “I think I’m okay.”

“Well… let me know if y’need help. Niall’s better than me, but m’pretty handy overall,” he smirked.

Jesus Christ she was going to trip again. “Thank you. I’ll let you know,” she assured him. “I’m going to visit my family next time I’m off—the whole weekend doesn’t always line up you know? My short shift is on Saturday so I’m thinking I’ll leave right from work.”

“S’nice. Special occasion?” He asked.

“Um…” she bit the inside of her lip and looked away shyly. “It’s my birthday actually.”

“Oh?” He grinned a bit brighter. “Y’were jus’ gonna leave town and not tell me?”

“I don’t really make my birthday a thing. I’ve been so busy for like the last ten years it’s almost impossible to celebrate it. Honestly, the idea of traveling all that way for a short weekend seems tiring as well… But…I don’t know. I… I just miss my mom,” she swallowed around the lump of emotion that lodged itself awkwardly in her throat. “They’re busy too and stuff,” she explained. “But I don’t need a lot.”

“Jus’ cause y’don’t need a lot doesn’t mean y’shouldn’t get the bare minimum,” he said gently.

It was already hard not to embarrass herself because of his abs and tattoos having a staring contest with her that they were undoubtedly winning. His soft and vulnerable words made her feel like she was going to cry so she shook her head quickly and shrugged one shoulder once more. “I guess it’s a lot easier for one person to travel to all of them than trying to gather all of them to come to me.”

He hummed quietly. “S’your birthday. They should come to you,” he stated quietly. As they approached Kingsley Place Harry slipped his shirt back over his torso which was completely not what she wanted but a blessing really. There was no way she could get her brain to make grilled cheese without burning her apartment down and she would have hated it if Harry had to file more paperwork because of her.

Of course, Harry held the door open for her. She noted he picked up his pace just a hair through the lobby as they approached the elevator. “Embarrassed to be seen with me?” She joked as they got on the lift.

He rolled his eyes at her as he pressed the button for her floor. “Not even a little. M’embarrassed t’be seen… out of uniform.”

She bit her tongue hard enough to draw a bit of blood to keep herself from saying he looked pretty good out of uniform. “No one would expect you to be all proper all the time,” she stated. “You’re a person and whatnot.”

A really hot—almost too hot to be real—person.

He shrugged. “Mrs. Wentworth kind of scares me.”

“You can’t let a mean old lady scare you, Harry,” she giggled.

“M’pretty sure she wants me fired because I tipped her package upside down by accident.”

“Did you break it?”

“No, it was like a box of office supplies,” he shook his head.

She sighed heavily. “Uncle Henry never mentioned her.”

“Probably for good reason.”

She bent to untie her key from her laces and winced in pain at the stretch of the cut on her skinned knee. “I’ll grab it,” he offered quickly.

Then Harry was kneeling. At her feet. Untying her shoe.

If he wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with her before, she was certain he would be soon. She might imagine this moment in bed for the rest of her life, and she was almost sure he’d be able to see it on her face if he looked up at her any time soon. He opened her door like this was the most normal occurrence. Like he lived there. It felt very nice to think of it that way.

They went to the kitchen first and she immediately washed her hands. She ignored the sting from the water and enjoyed the soothing feeling of the soap and clean water almost instantly. Harry headed for the bathroom and returned in a minute with a small first aid kit. “How’d you know I had that?” She wondered as she patted her hands dry and gathered the ingredients for grilled cheese.

He smirked. “Uh… you’re a doctor,” he reminded her with a tilt of his head. “Remember?”

Right. Not really. Clearly.

A picture of his abs would be great in torture room. Hard to lie about anything with them on the brain. She was certain she’d trade government secrets for just a look at them. “Sit,” he nodded to the stool.

She snorted. “Harry, they’re just little cuts and whatnot, I don’t need—”

“Humor me, darling. M’not a doctor. But I can make sure y’cuts don’t get infected,” he placed the small kit on the island counter and flipped open the lid to reveal a variety of items for small cuts and scrapes such as hers. “I know those scrapes sting like crazy, so let me cover them so y’don’t hurt them a bunch making our snack.”

So of course, she had no choice but to sit down and let him fawn over her. He was very gentle and thorough. Like he really was concerned she’d get an infection like gangrene or something. “You have a very nice bedside manner,” she stated.

He snorted, smirking in such a way and so close to her she was absolutely riveted by the dimple in his cheek that the little voice in her head (the one that was hers and not some obscure sound that wormed its way into her head) asked her to stick her tongue in it. He patted the bandage on her palm after he completed the second hand. “All set. I’ll leave this out so y’can tend t’your other cuts later.”

You could take your pants off right now! The voice in her head was getting almost belligerent.

Shut. Up.

“Thank you, Dr. Styles,” she giggled.

He chuckled. “You’re welcome. I can make the grilled cheese for you, too,” he stated opening the bag for the loaf of bread. “How many slices of cheese do y’want?”

It was possible he knocked his own earlier sentence out of the top spot for the sexiest thing ever said. “I can do it,” she protested weakly because the thought of Harry’s insanely hot body and his very sweet words and actions were making her brain very foggy that she wondered if she had hit her head in her tumble. She stood and moved around the island, but Harry shook his head.

“M’sure y’can, darling. Sit.”

Was she supposed to say no to him?

“You’re kind of bossy,” she said knowingly. It was a lot safer on her heart and head to tease him.

“Seems t’be the only way t’get you t’relax for half a second,” he quirked an eyebrow at her as he put some butter in the frying pan.

God, she wished she was staying in that hotel bed another night. She had a lot more things to add to her imagination.

*

Harry didn’t tell Niall about how much time they spent together over the last forty-eight hours. Nor that he got to hold her while she cried, or that he tended to her wounds, and fed her a post-run snack. It seemed special and private, and he wanted to keep it that way.

There was a small ache starting behind Harry’s eye, and he didn’t pay too much attention to it. Eye strain and tiredness were likely the culprits. He wanted to deal with his morning routines first. Mr. Langley was already out the door, and he’d already suffered his five-minute conversation with Mrs. Wentworth. Mr. and Mrs. Keningston were out for breakfast and Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair would be back from brunch after church. He made sure the lobby looked clean before he stepped out briefly and hurried up the street to deal with his most pressing and important morning routine he developed in the last few months.

He exited the elevator holding a coffee in hand and knocked on her door firmly. Within ten seconds he heard her quick footfalls behind the door. He realized his mistake as she pulled the door out of the way. She scanned him quickly and then the tension in her body sagged. The anxiety left her instantly and Harry felt bad he made her worry.

He knew that Mrs. Higgins knocked on her door the day before and it was probably likely she would always answer her door in the same worried manner for a very long time. “Oh, m’sorry,” he frowned. “Did I wake you?” He asked.

She was wearing shorts. If you could call them that. She tugged the hem of her T-shirt by her extremely pretty thighs (was she not wearing a bra?) oh God. Harry messed up, royally. He kept his eyes on her sleepy face and tried not to think about the way her T-shirt took top position for the prettiest outfit he’d ever seen her in.

“No, I was… lounging, I’m sorry I thought there was an emergency—can you… give me like one minute?” She asked realizing there was no immediate emergency. She slowly inched halfway behind the door. Her cheeks flushed the prettiest color of red—a red that matched the small shorts just beneath the hem of—

“Yeah, of course, m’sorry,” he repeated apologetically keeping his eyes focused on her very pretty face.

She closed the door. Harry noted the pain in his head amplified tenderly and he thought maybe if he bashed his head repeatedly into the frame around the door, he wouldn’t feel as stupid as he did. God she was pretty.

The door opened again and she was wearing actual shorts now, which meant Harry had seen her in underwear. He was glad he did all his tasks for the morning because he wasn’t sure how productive he’d be having the knowledge of her pretty thighs and small shorts in his aching head.

Harry held the coffee out instantly and tried not to think about how she was definitely not wearing a bra. Jesus, fuck, this was a bad idea. “I jus’ wanted t’get this for you. I should have jus’ kept it downstairs but thought y’might want t’hang in your place and I guess I didn’t think ‘bout how—”

“Thank you,” she interrupted and the kindness in her voice was so sweet. “That’s very thoughtful.”

He breathed out in relief and the pain in his head subsided a bit. “I uh… I’ll get out of your hair,” he rubbed the back of his neck and bit the inside of his lip. “Have a nice day, Miss.”

“Have a nice day, Harry,” she grinned, sipped her coffee, and sighed. “Perfect.”

She really was.

*

It was too late by the time Harry realized what was happening. He sat in his office with the lights off and the door shut hoping that no one would really need him until after he left at the end of his shift. It was wishful thinking, however. Because why would that happen when he needed it to?

He moved much too slowly as the knock on his office door sounded like cannon balls directly inside his temples. He blinked wearily against the light from the lobby. Was the sun suddenly inside the lobby?

“Harry,” Sloane asked. “Can you call us a cab? We have to get to this new restaurant to review it,” she explained at lightning speed.

Did he nod? He thought he did. Slowly he turned back to the dark office and grabbed his phone off the desk. He was definitely moving at a glacial pace. But to answer his own question, no; the sun was not in the lobby. It was in his phone. The bright screen made him drop it on the desk which was almost as loud as the cannons that happened when Sloane knocked on his office door.

The pain in his head was making his stomach ache; and he was fairly certain he might pass out at any moment. Or throw up. All of which was not a good move in front of Sloane and Hailey.

“Are you alright?” Sloane asked. Too loudly. But it was quite perceptive to think of someone other than herself, he thought.

“Fine,” he murmured. But the effort to say the word made his jaw hurt and consequently amplified the pain in his temple. The medicine he took did nothing and he knew it might—probably—not help, but he really hoped that it would. It was just a couple more hours and then he could go. “I’ll call; they’ll be here in ten minutes.”

Harry closed the door and promptly threw up in the trashcan. Maybe that would help. But after moment it was clear, if anything, the throbbing in his temples only worsened. He managed to dial the cab number that worked almost exclusively with the building. He spoke as quickly as he possibly could pained by having to repeat himself because the company’s answering service was definitely struggling to understand his mumbled words before he threw up again. Once seated behind the desk, he pressed his face to the cool wood and silently prayed the pain would stop.

However, the smell of his own vomit made him more nauseous. It was just vicious. Unfair. Cruel. He had such a nice evening with the pretty girl and saw her pretty thighs this morning and now he was just—

“Have you seen Harry?”

No, no, no. He did not want her to see him like this. “He’s in his office,” Hailey said and he could almost hear her eyeroll in disgust. “He’s being weird and not doing his job. Our cab is late.”

“Would you like me to call the cab for you?” She asked kindly. “If Harry can do it, I’m sure I can as well.” “It’s really unlike him to not do something we ask. I sure hope he’s okay,” she stated both sweetly and bitingly. He really was in love with her. It was quite embarrassing.

Almost as embarrassing as her knocking softly on the door (much softer than Sloane had, may he add). “Harry?” She asked softly. He couldn’t answer and then her voice turned away from the door as she spoke again. “I think your cab is right outside.”

Sloane mumbled a thank you and the sound of high heels clicked away across the lobby.

For a moment, Harry hoped she had left. But instead, the door quietly clicked open. “Whoa,” she whispered. He was sure she could smell that he was sick and incapable of cleaning it up or dealing with it for the moment. Pure embarrassment washed over him and if he wasn’t feeling so weak, he might have told her to leave. “Harry?” She asked, closing the door behind her with another very soft click. It was clear she knew almost instinctively what was going on. The way she was speaking so softly, how she tried her best to keep the light from the lobby out of the office. If he wasn’t feeling so poorly already, his stomach might have flipped at the kind gesture. But she was also closing herself in with the smell of him being sick and pathetic. He simply couldn’t have that.

“Go away,” he moaned exhaustedly.

“Oh goodness,” she whispered. “Come with me.”

“M’working,” he groaned. “Jus’ go away,” he was in so much pain he practically slurred his words.

She somehow managed to keep her voice below a whisper. “Not happening. Keep your eyes closed. I’ll guide you,” she offered and gently touched his shoulders. It hurt, but also felt very soothing. It was hard to describe.

“I can’t,” he repeated. “Money.”

She sighed very quietly. “I’m sorry Harry, I don’t care. You need to take care of yourself right now,” tugged very gently on him to get out of his seat.

Harry was exhausted. Run down. Sick.

This was miserable and he didn’t want this pretty angel to have to take care of him. But he was really not himself, out of his element, and simply too ill to care much more or longer. He stood slowly; each step and movement felt like knives drilling into his brain and skull at the same time. She grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers.

“I’m gonna open the door. Keep your eyes shut,” her voice was melodic and beautiful, and he wished he could tell her. He could see the change in lights through his eyelids, and he tilted his head down. The smell of his own vomit followed him, and he felt disgusted with himself and his predicament. He hoped she wouldn’t think too poorly of him.

The ping of the elevator felt like an electric shock through his whole body. “Sorry,” she whispered seeing him wince further in pain.

The movement of the elevator as they started moving up, topped with his aching head, and already queasy stomach meant only one thing. “M’gonna be sick,” he warned.

“Go ahead,” she whispered and something pressed to the front of his chest just in time for him to be sick again.

For someone with a horrible migraine he had way too much clarity of what it meant. She carried his vomit trashcan through the lobby for him.

He groaned quietly. “Almost there,” she continued to whisper as if he hadn’t just embarrassed himself in front of her. When the elevator stopped another wave of nausea flowed over him, but he refused to make this any worse than it was regardless of how gross he felt and he was not going to throw up again.

He heard the small click of her lock turning and the way she quieted the turn of her doorknob as well. She grabbed his hand again and guided him inside her entry way.

Usually too much of any smell made Harry feel worse. But the only thing he could recognize was how good it smelled in her place. Like fresh laundry. It was the first reprieve he had in hours. She gently tugged him forward, going at the same speed he set (glacial, once more). He couldn’t believe how terrible he felt and how kind and gentle she was being. After what felt like a ten-minute walk across her place she stopped. She put the trash can down and softly touched his shoulder. “Sit.”

They were quiet commands, but Harry knew she was trying to use less words if she could help it. His eyes were still closed so he was only vaguely aware of her movement. He sensed her presence moved elsewhere in the room. All of his senses were heightened so he swore he could hear everything. Even though she was moving quietly and almost soundlessly, he could still make out the slide of the curtain across the rod by the window. After a few silent seconds (where she must have made her way actually without sound) he heard her fridge open followed by a cabinet and then a drawer. His mind was only half working but the half that was functioning knew this was the most mortifying moment of his life. He would have been content with dying if it meant he didn’t embarrass himself any further in front of the pretty doctor.

Fortunately, the non-functioning portion of his brain was taking more residency in his head. He was a slave to the pain and nothing else. He quietly hoped she wouldn’t think he was as embarrassing as he felt after all this was over.

*

Harry leaned forward again without much warning and vomited again into the trashcan. She slowly padded across the room holding a glass of water and a cold compress. She kept the compress for her own headaches and while she knew this was no ordinary headache, she hoped it would help him feel better. And she really wished she could take the pain from Harry.

He moaned softly and she tilted his chin up gently from hovering over the trashcan. “Sip, swish, spit,” she placed the straw between his lips. He did as she asked. Once she placed the trashcan to the side, she held the straw out again. “Drink,” she ordered. He took a few big gulps, and she was relieved he was thirsty. “Open,” she placed two pills on his tongue and then put the straw back at his lips. She had some heavier pain relief for some intense menstrual cramping she used to get more frequently but still kept the medicine on hand just in case they ever cropped up again. Hopefully the stronger dose would make him feel better. She saw the small bottle of pills in the mostly dark office, and she was very thankful it was a different class of medication than the one she was offering him now. “Drink.”

Once the medicine was done, she set the plastic cup on the coffee table. She knelt in front of him and untied his shoes and pulled them off as slowly as she could. Next, she unbuttoned his suit coat and slid it off his shoulders then undid his black button-down. She was fortunate he had a fitted black T-shirt beneath it. Mostly because she felt it would be extremely unfair to Harry if she ogled his abs without his consent or knowing.

She managed to get his belt off but wouldn’t be going further to get him out of his pants. “Lay.”

He slowly laid back onto the sofa. When his head touched the cushion he breathed a sigh of relief. Feeling confident he would be okay for a minute, she grabbed the trash can and headed to the bathroom. She closed the door quietly, hoping to add another layer to block out the sound from him. She flushed and rinsed the trashcan out as best she could in the shower. Knowing how heavy scents could really ruin his progress, she then sprayed it down with a scentless cleaning product. Anything to keep the stimulation of senses to the most minimum.

She returned to the living room and Harry looked like he might have fallen asleep. It was hard to tell because his pretty green eyes had been closed since she told him to close them down in his office. Softly, she stroked the back of her fingers across his forehead then gently laid the cold compress across it. She replaced the trashcan beside his head. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be sick again; not that it mattered if he did get sick, but mostly because she just felt so bad it was happening to him.

“M’sorry, darling,” he managed to croak.

“Shh,” she hushed. “Drink,” she held the straw to his lips again and he took a few more gulps. “Sleep.”

*

While Harry slept, she dug in his pocket for his work phone. She brought his clothes to the end of her apartment where she threw them in the wash hoping Harry wouldn’t mind. She turned off anything she thought might have a chance of making noise in her place. She dialed Niall on his phone from her bedroom and explained the situation.

“Thanks, Dr. Alden,” he chuckled. “I’ll call Nick t’get down there. Poor guy.”

She frowned to herself and nodded. “Yeah, I feel terrible,” she sighed. “Can you grab some comfier clothes for him? You can leave them outside my apartment. Just in case he wants them when he wakes up.”

“Sure, darling,” there was a massive smile in his voice, and she felt herself blushing. Did Niall know how ridiculously infatuated she was with his best friend? Surely, he knew from the tamer instances when she first moved in—the donuts, the coffees, and other treats. But now Harry was asleep and ill in her apartment, and she could have helped him to his place. She didn’t need to bring him. She didn’t even have a bed for him to sleep on. “Thanks for taking care of him, darling. Not a lot of people do,” he said knowingly.

A painful ache pressed against her ribcage. Break my heart, why don’t you?

She hung up with Niall and returned to the living room. She hoped that sleeping on the sofa didn’t make it too uncomfortable for him. But he was probably feeling so ill that sleeping on the coffee table would have made him feel better.

It looked like he hadn’t moved an inch. She grabbed a blanket and cozied up in the oversized chair with her book and monitored his breathing every now and again while he slept the pain away.

*

“Drink,” she whispered. Each time Harry stirred and sounded a little more awake she offered him water which he greedily took when he was awake. If he didn’t, then she just put the water aside again and waited until his next wakeful moment.

Poor Harry slept for hours. She changed his cold compress every hour or so. She made good headway on her book and enjoyed the sound of Harry’s soft breathing as background noise. Her apartment was too quiet on a regular day. Even with her intention of staying near silent, it was nice to have his quiet in her place.

Eventually with her book almost finished Harry stirred a little more prominently. She settled the book on the coffee table opened so as not to lose her page. Then grabbed his water. “Drink,” she ordered holding the straw to his lips. This time, he slowly sat up. Gently, he cupped his hands around hers. She was lucky she was so focused on caring for him because if he wasn’t ill there was a very good chance she would have dropped the water on him.

Once he drank most of the glass, she set it down again and grabbed the cold compress that slid off his head when he sat up. She grabbed the other one from the freezer. She returned, holding it out for him to take. This time he placed it behind his head at the base of his skull and sighed deeply. “Feels better back here,” he murmured.

She pouted. “Oh, I’m sorry… I was doing your foreh—”

“Do not apologize,” he gave his head the smallest little wiggle as he murmured slowly. “M’sorry y’had t’see this—”

“It was nothing,” she assured him quickly, softly.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How long—”

“Don’t worry about it, you can sleep some more if you want.”

He glanced at her. “Isn’t this your bed?”

She blushed. “I have an air mattress.”

“If it wouldn’t break m’brain, I’d roll m’eyes,” he mumbled.

She smirked and watched him. “Do you need anything?” She asked.

“No, you’ve done enough. M’gonna head back to m’apartment.”

“You can stay here, I don’t mind,” she offered.

“No, I jus’ keep thinking that y’took this trash can with you and it makes me want t’jump out a window,” he hung his head low.

“Harry, I’m a doctor. Moreover, a medical examiner. A little throw up isn’t going to scare me.”

He sighed. “M’very embarrassed. I should have left work sooner t’deal with it. But I…I don’t know. The money and stuff.”

“I get it,” she assured him. “I’m sorry you felt so poorly. Please stay here, Niall brought you some comfier clothes. If you change into them I can wash your whole outfit.”

“S’really too much.”

“It’s not, I really haven’t done much at all. Being quiet like this meant I could read my whole book,” she smiled. “So thank you.”

He huffed a little. She could see he was trying not to agitate the pain anymore. “Yeah, sure. Welcome,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry you’re not having a nice day,” she whispered.

Harry looked up and met her gaze. It was the first time she got to see the pretty green irises that matched her bedroom walls since this morning when he caught her in just her underwear. Just with him looking at her made her blush. Softly the corner of his mouth pulled up just so.

God he was pretty.

“Despite everything, darling… m’having a pretty nice day.”

--

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[1d1195]

Have a Nice Day, Miss - Part VII

Read Have a Nice Day, Miss here | ~9k words

From Me/Warnings: Not a lot to warn you about in this one. Maybe just some angst.

Summary: “Why must he be hot?” She wondered curiously. She wanted to keep Harry’s hotness to herself, for now. She’d eventually tell Brooke. Apparently sooner rather than later because she was certain Brooke was already looking for him on social media.

“Because it’s the first you’ve mentioned of him even though you’ve worked here for months and you’re blushing.”

Harry stayed in her apartment for several more hours. He changed into the clothes Niall left and promptly fell back asleep for some time. She felt terrible that she didn’t have a bed to offer to him. But when he woke up the next time, he assured her it was no problem. “I’ll admit your couch is pretty comfy,” he smirked. He rubbed the back of his neck as he called out to her softly. She was in the kitchen, making him grilled cheese even though they didn’t go for a run.

She grinned shyly as she brought two plates over to him. There were plenty of places to sit, but she still sat next to him. Being far away from him (even the mere feet between the furniture) was simply too much for too long and she wanted to be closer to him.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” he murmured picking up the sandwich and biting into it. “Don’t think anyone’s done that for me since m’mum when I was living at home…”

“Don’t mention it,” she popped one shoulder. She turned toward him and looked at his pretty profile. The sharpness of his jaw and nose. He was angular but soft. It was paradoxical. Delicious. It was like he was designed in a lab especially for her but couldn’t have him.

“What?” He hummed.

“Are we friends?”

Harry still seemed like he had some unspoken rules. Like he couldn’t possibly be friends with her because he was the doorman. He still hadn’t given her any personal contact info—not even a personal email. He was professional. It was admirable. But she didn’t want that. She wanted the warm hug he gave her when she was upset and the gentle grip of his hand in hers when she led him here a few hours earlier. “Why would y’ask that?” He frowned.

“I don’t know…just feels like you don’t want to be friends sometimes. I know I’m a little overwhelming sometimes because I—”

“You’re not overwhelming,” he interrupted.

“So, I don’t get you all flustered when Mrs. Wentworth is being a lot? My compliments to you don’t make you nervous?”

He sighed with an eye roll and winced slightly at the pain in his tender head. She frowned. “See? Like that,” she gestured vaguely toward him.

“Of course we’re friends,” he mumbled almost bitterly.

“Wow! Such resounding agreement! So much enthusiasm! It’s friendship Harry, not a lobotomy,” she rolled her eyes. “If you don’t want to be friends, that’s fine. It just… feels weird not knowing how to address you.”

He snorted then took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he rolled his lips into his mouth. “You’re a lot different from… everyone else that lives here, s’a little disorienting. There’s nothing against being friends with the residents s’just…”

“Oh. I… I didn’t really think of that. If it makes your job harder…”

She really liked Harry, that was clear. But she was willing to let go of the romantic ideas in her head a little if she could still have him in her life in some way. But not even friendship? It sounded awful and she thought she might have to move out if that were the case.

“No!” He shook his head quickly. “It doesn’t. I… I liked being friends. Or rather, I like being friends.”

Dramatically, she sighed. “Phew, that was almost like the most embarrassing thing in the world.”

“I literally jus’ threw up in front of you at least three times.”

“Some would say that’s the real hallmark of friendship,” she nodded knowingly. Harry chuckled, shook his head, and took the last bite of his sandwich.

“M’gonna get out of your hair,” he stated and brought his plate over to the sink. He grabbed his clothes that she neatly washed and folded into a reusable tote bag with a faded logo on it. He was fairly certain there was a vague giraffe outline on it which he thought was very cute and so her. “Thank you,” he repeated. “Friend.”

“You’d do the same for me,” she shrugged casually, brushing it off. But she really liked the way he said friend, even if she wanted more.

He tilted his head at her and nodded. “Yeah, darling,” he smirked gently. “I would.”

*

Her short shifts were slowly feeling like the longest shifts in the world. It seemed like every time the shift rolled around it was like the universe knew she was meant to have an easy day and then the worst things happened to her. She started her day with pain in her neck again and stepped into the puddle that reappeared in front of her kitchen sink. She would have to tell Niall. It was clear her own quick-fix plumbing wasn’t enough. But it would have to wait until after her weekend away. Uncle Henry was probably rolling over in his grave and so disappointed to leave his place to her only for her to ruin it every day a little more.

She didn’t see Harry before she left that morning. That should have been the main clue that the day was going to go from bad to worse.

If her haunted apartment wasn’t going to kill her, it would definitely be the paperwork she was looking at again. She had Brooke look it over, too. It was the third time something familiar washed over her as she checked and re-checked it again. Brooke was sitting across from her scrolling on her phone.

“Did you pick out a bed, yet?” She asked.

“No,” she murmured.

“That’s ridiculous. It’s like you really do want to sleep on the autopsy table,” Brooke snorted while rapidly typing on her phone. “What about this one?” She slid her phone across the desk.

She sighed heavily, glanced at the picture on her phone and shrugged. “Sure, looks great, send me the link,” she looked back at the paperwork.

“It’s probably nothing,” Brooke said gently and took her phone back. In the next moment her phone vibrated with a message (presumably the link Brooke was sending her). She really liked Brooke. They were friends—even if for now it was only work friends. It was just that time outside of work was busy. It didn’t really allow for outside friendship dates right now. “If you haven’t figured it out now, it’s probably your imagination.”

She nodded. It was reasonable and she knew Brooke was probably right. It was just odd that she couldn’t get it out of her head. Even when she was on runs with Harry or sitting in the lobby watching the most attractive man she’d ever seen work at his desk, there was some small little nagging feeling like she was forgetting something. Enough to pull her away from ogling Harry which only meant it had to be something.

But maybe Brooke was right; maybe it didn’t even have to do with the different cases she went over. Just something that made her think of the unknown concept because she was completing paperwork. That her mind was playing tricks on her because she was tired, overworked, and overwhelmed.

“You need a bed,” Brooke reminded her.

“You and Harry would get along,” she mumbled.

“Who’s Harry?” She perked up readily.

“He’s my friend,” she shrugged. “And the doorman at my apartment.”

“Do you have a picture of him?” Brooke’s excited smile grew tenfold.

Fuck. “Do I have a picture of the doorman to my apartment complex? No,” she laughed and closed the folder. Whatever wasn’t coming to her would have to wait. She wanted to be on the road soon.

“Well, you said he was your friend, I just figured…”

“I only got official confirmation from less than a week ago that we’re actually friends.”

“Sometimes I forget how dumb doctors can be,” Brooke giggled. “You asked him if he was your friend?”

“I didn’t know if there was a rule against it or something.”

“He must be hot.”

“Why must he be hot?” She wondered curiously. She wanted to keep Harry’s hotness to herself, for now. She’d eventually tell Brooke. Apparently sooner rather than later because she was certain Brooke was already looking for him on social media.

“Because it’s the first you’ve mentioned of him even though you’ve worked here for months and you’re blushing.” She put a hand to her cheek feeling how warm it was and hating that Brooke was right. “Oh my God, he has to be godly.”

“Can you like be cool?” She grumbled and turned back to her annoying paperwork. Why did she want to be friends with Brooke again?

“Is this him?” She held her phone and sure enough it was a picture of Harry—it looked like an older photo—Harry’s face a little rounder and younger… just ever so slightly. A professional headshot on his otherwise mostly quiet social media. “Oh, it’s gotta be him. Your pupils just dilated like you’re doing drugs,” she giggled and turned the phone back to her. “This pic is from four years ago he must be even hotter.”

“I have to go now,” she stated. She closed her laptop hurriedly, stuffed it in her bag, and shook her head. The nagging feeling would have to wait again.

“Oh my God, you love him!”

“Have a good weekend, Brooke!”

Brooke giggled more. “Hey,” she said softly, garnering her attention in a less ostentatious way—it felt like she wouldn’t bring up Harry again. She stopped in the doorway. “Happy birthday. I hope it’s a good one,” she grinned.

She smiled. “Thank you, don’t stare at him for too long,” she ordered.

She saluted her and continued scrolling through Harry’s social media. “He needs an update,” she said knowingly.

She smirked and rolled her eyes. As she walked to her car, she called her mom to let her know she was on the way. “Hi sweetheart,” she cooed. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you, I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving work now so I should be there in a few hours.” Her office was in a bit of a dead spot (no pun intended). Because while she didn’t perform autopsies in a basement as depicted on TV and in movies, there was still little cell service to keep the realism of her job the utmost accurate to media portrayals. “Mom?” She repeated and glanced at her phone to check her number of bars and see if the call had dropped. “Can you hear me?”

There was a deep sigh from her mother. At the same time, her stomach twisted. She knew. Immediately. She knew exactly what her mom was going to say. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I know you said you were coming this weekend; I have it written on the calendar and everything…”

She felt cold all over. A prickle in her skin and behind her eyes, in her nose. Her bag slumped down her arm and she closed the back door. It didn’t fully shut and she took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, pressed her forehead to the frame of her car, and listened to her mom ramble about how she didn’t connect this weekend meant this weekend.

No one would be home for her birthday.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say anything for a second. She was really missing her mom and wanted to see her siblings. Wanted to be the center of attention for one, measly day. “Sweetheart?” Her mom asked. “Can you hear me?”

She muted her phone briefly and sighed deeply, a tear rolled down her cheek silently. “Yeah, Mom, sorry. I don’t have a lot of service here,” she murmured. “It’s okay. I’ll… I’ll just see you guys some other time.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay… listen I gotta go, Brooke is calling me. I must have left something behind,” she lied and dropped her head against the frame of her car again.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She really hoped Harry would be working when she got back. It might be the only remedy to save her so far crummy birthday.

*

It felt like every resident was out of the building. Of course, he knew that wasn’t true; it was statistically unlikely that every single one was out and about. The Influencers were probably all in their apartments making videos for brands that he didn’t know about and making twice his salary just for saying they liked a new eyeshadow.

He knew 12A was at work and would subsequently be leaving for her birthday weekend out of town. He was hopeful the weekend would pass quickly. He couldn’t wait to see her again and she’d hardly even been gone nor was it for a long length of time in general.

Harry got her a small gift and was really looking forward to giving it to her. Part of him selfishly hoped she would forget something and have to stop back at Kingsley Place. It would have sucked for her to come back all this way from work, but he thought it was okay to be a little selfish about her as long as he was quiet about it. He didn’t actually know which day of the weekend was her birthday.

But as the time it would take her to get back from work after her short shift ticked on, he figured she remembered everything and he wasn’t going to see her for a couple days.

Harry was trying to keep it a secret that her absence was making him cranky.

He was not doing it well. Niall noticed instantly that Harry’s eyes kept darting toward the front door. His head looked toward the elevator each time it pinged with each arrival like maybe he had gotten the dates wrong, and she would be appearing soon enough. He nearly glared when Niall exited for the third or fourth time. Even though she would have been at work anyway on any other regular day.

“Well… you could text her?” Niall said knowingly in response to Harry’s warm greeting.

“M’not going t’bother her when she’s gone for the weekend.”

“Ask her to come over for dinner or something when she gets back—pizza! She asked you over for grilled cheese. It’s nearly the same thing!”

“M’not having this argument again, Niall.”

“Just ask her,” he begged. “I bet she would agree with me, she’s a doctor.”

“Meaning she’s got plenty of better things t’do than decide if pizza is really just a grilled cheese.”

Niall smirked. “Harry,” Niall said knowingly.

“Jus’ shut up, okay,” he grumbled and headed into the office to hide his emotions and take deep breaths. He hated that she left him little gifts and snacks. Maybe food was her love language. Or gift giving. Of course he didn’t actually hate it, he just hated he couldn’t reciprocate.

Harry probably couldn’t afford the kind of gifts for her that would meet her expectations. Food he could perhaps manage; but by the time his shift was over he rarely wanted to cook anything beyond an omelet or a bowl of oatmeal.

The idea of being anything more than friends was laughable. She would probably laugh in his face. It just wouldn’t work and that was the worst, very worst part of it. At least his shift was nearly over. He could go back to the basement and hide how he felt and not stare at the door like some sad little puppy.

“I thought you said she was leaving for the weekend,” Niall called.

“What?” Was that a joke? Niall wasn’t funny. After all his hopeful waiting for the last few hours Niall really had a morbid sense of humor for Harry’s sad little heart. “She’s visiting her family,” he answered.

“Well… I know my eyes aren’t what they used to be but I’m pretty sure that’s her… er… some guy is with her… Harry, I think something is wrong—She looks awfully uncomf—”

Harry nearly sprinted out of the office. His eyes found her shaking her head at a man right outside the main door. He was standing much too close to her. Fortunately, she took a step back from him. It didn’t stop the man’s gaze looking at her like she was something to eat. Harry hated it so much. It made his blood turn hot. There was this protectiveness he felt over her; and maybe it wasn’t his right to feel that way, but he did. She pulled her hand away from him as soon as he tried to hold it. She stepped back again, nearly tripping on the carpet that sat outside the building that Harry had to wash a hundred times a year.

That was more than enough evidence for Harry to at least go outside and hold the door for her. That was his job. If it interrupted something, then so be it. He could apologize later and claim he was worried about her safety. “Welcome back, Miss,” he said, stepping outside as calmly as he could. If he was misreading their conversation and body language he didn’t want to intrude. He didn’t think he was, but what did he know? “Can I get you—”

The hope in her eyes upon seeing him was so devastating Harry wanted to cry. The question he started disappeared from his lips. He didn’t remember what he wanted to say at all. She looked so utterly relieved it nearly made his heart give out right there. It was particularly awful because if he had a heart attack, she wouldn’t have anyone to help her, and she’d probably end up doing CPR or something on him and she’d have to relive the whole Aurelia ordeal and that only made him feel even worse because—

“Harry, please keep him away from me,” she begged quietly, then rushed inside interrupting his spiraling. She brushed right by him, her arm skimming against the front of his body as she moved through the doorway as quickly as she could. As soon as she was inside, Niall called out to her, and she hurried to the desk where Niall then ushered her into the office while glancing over his shoulder at Harry with a nod that he would keep an eye on her until he came back inside.

“She’s overreacting—”

Harry barely heard him. “You need to leave the premises,” he stated bitterly.

“It’s really just a misunderstanding—” He reached for the front door.

Harry shook his head and stepped directly in front of the handle as he reached for it. “She asked for you to leave. I’m asking you to leave. It’s my job. I will call the authorities if you do not leave the property.”

“There’s no need to do all that, it’s really not that serious.”

“Get. Off. The. Property,” Harry stated succinctly. Word-by-word. “Now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fucking bitch,” he muttered under his breath. Harry’s hands balled into his fists at his side, and he inhaled deeply to keep as much of his cool as he could manage because as much as he wanted to tackle the man, he wanted to check on the pretty doctor inside more than that.

Once he was officially out of sight, Harry rushed back in and found Niall rubbing his hand over his face and he sighed. “Is she in there?” Harry asked as he walked past the desk to check on her without his friend’s answer.

Niall shook his head. “No… uh…” he cleared his throat. “She sat for like two seconds and then wanted to go up to her apartment,” he sighed. “I tried to ask her to stay for a minute so you could check on—I think she wants to be alone… She was really distraught and overwhelmed… Harry I think she wanted—”

But Harry was already in the elevator and pressing the twelfth-floor button repeatedly, like it was going to get there faster with more button pushes. The door shut on Niall and Harry paced the small space as he ascended to her floor. As soon as it stopped, he hurried out and knocked on her door.

He could hear her crying like she didn’t even make it all the way inside her apartment and Harry seriously thought he was going to pass out. Nothing ever seemed so sad and terrible as her upset over some horrible man. “Darling?” He knocked again and spoke to the door as quietly as he could, but loud enough that she would hear over her own cries. “S’jus’ me,” he hoped that wasn’t so bad and she wouldn’t feel embarrassed. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. He just wanted to make sure she was alright.

She sniffled just on the other side of the door. “Harry, I fucked up,” she croaked. “I fucked up so bad and…” she choked on another sob. “Nothing is going right. I’m so exhausted and I don’t know what to do… and everything,” her voice cracked. She inhaled shakily as she sniffled and cried so very close to him. He could practically feel the heat of her body through the door. There was a small thud, and Harry imagined her pretty head bumping against it as she fought back (uselessly) against the tears. “Everything—” her voice cut off with another sob.

Harry’s parents divorced at a really young age, and it was a heart ache like nothing he felt before. He remembered thinking and promising himself he would never feel that heartbroken in his life. He’d never get divorced and he’d never have a breakup that would compare to the anguish he felt over his parents. Once he got this job and thought that maybe he wouldn’t have a relationship period. How could he with the hours he kept and the lack of money he possessed? The silver-lining was he would never be heartbroken over someone because he loved them.

Harry had no idea he could feel this distraught over a girl who wasn’t even his.

Could he break the door down? Why didn’t he bring his keys for emergencies or for when a resident asked him to run an errand that would result in him making his way inside? He was going to beg, sure. But she seemed the type to try and do this on her own and Harry just wanted to help her; and he really couldn’t force himself into her place after the altercation he just witnessed downstairs.

“Darling, please open the door for me,” he continued to speak just above a whisper. He was shaking, his heart pounding. Was he sweating too? How could he be so worked up over her and he couldn’t even see her? He just needed to see she was whole and perfect still. That there weren’t any bruises or worse. It was just that she was overwhelmed and nothing worse. That she was fine, and Harry didn’t need to run down the street looking for the man that called her a bitch and tried to force himself inside Kingsley Place. No, Harry really didn’t need to do something that would get him arrested when he couldn’t afford bail money he would have to pay back to Niall. “Please.”

The doorknob turned quietly and Harry felt the relief rush through him again. But it only lasted a second because the beautiful girl that he was falling so ridiculously in love with (just from seeing her in the lobby and because she made him grilled cheeses and didn’t get grossed out when he was sick due to a migraine) was so unbelievably sad, it was going to shatter his heart. Splinter it into ten billion pieces. It would never be whole again. “Oh, 12A,” he hummed and pulled her toward him before he could think any longer. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed to hold her together.

Instantly, she broke into more noisy sobs. Her hands gripped at the front of his shirt, wrinkling it in between her fingers. He stepped forward so he could get the door closed and that way no one on the quiet floor would have to see her upset. No one would know Harry was desperately trying to comfort her and make her feel better.

His pulse was throbbing in every inch of his veins. He thought back to his own CPR course he took back when he first started working (since there were so many elderly, rich residents, it seemed like a good idea). He tried to remember the signs of a heart attack. A heartbeat thudding throughout his entire body didn’t ring a bell as one of the signs, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t a good thing either way.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, her voice muffled between her sobs and his shirt.

Jesus Christ. He shook his head, wincing. “Don’t apologize,” he cupped the back of her head and rubbed his thumb up and down gently admiring how soft her hair felt beneath it. As soft as he imagined it would feel and as much pain he was in due to her anguish, he loved holding her like this. It was therapeutic for him to hold her and know she was safe. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?” The questions felt so inadequate. Of course she wasn’t okay, Harry, he thought to himself. She was sobbing against his chest, for God’s sake. “Did he touch you, kitten?” He asked so quietly because he almost didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to have to run after the stranger and kill him. With his luck, it meant she would be the one to do an autopsy on him. Nor did he want to end up in a jail cell guarded by the handsome lieutenant who was probably way better suited for her.

Fortunately, she shook her head immediately. “He didn’t… No. No, it’s not… it wasn’t—I just… it’s—” She took a shaky breath trying to calm herself down. Her breath rattled as she tried to reclaim her put togetherness. “I’m just not having a good day.”

Harry understood, and was promptly so relieved she wasn’t physically hurt and that he didn’t have to kill anyone he almost didn’t care what was wrong with her. But of course, he very much cared quite a bit and just wanted to make the pain in her voice go away. “M’sorry, darling. Can I help?”

She snorted and gasped slightly trying to keep the crying at bay. “Everything is so messed up and I’m so alone, Harry. I feel like I’m drowning and… I don’t know…”

Her voice choked off again and Harry hushed her softly. “Okay, okay,” he didn’t want to make her cry again. “Jus’… what can I do?”

She still hadn’t lifted her face from his chest and Harry desperately wanted to kiss the top of her head. In the name of comfort. Right? She needed it. Would it be so bad? Would pressing his lips on her hair be the worst thing in the world right then? Would it make her bad day worse? “Work was awful and I don’t normally get so emotional about it but it’s everything. Everything just seems so bad and it’s just worse now that I’m home.”

Alright so maybe it would make her day worse. Damn. “What’s the matter, darling? I can’t help fixing it if y’don’t tell me,” he settled for speaking very quietly to her. His lips were so close to her hairline, he knew she probably felt his breath on her skin.

“I fucked up,” she whispered.

“At work?”

She shook her head.

“Here?” He asked. He didn’t even care that she was making him drag it out of her. He could tell how distraught she was and as someone who was so put together all the time, he didn’t really blame her. And he was still so relieved she wasn’t harmed by that guy he felt like he could handle any demon she had.

She nodded.

“Well, we can fix it, darling. I promise. S’okay. Stuff happens.”

“Niall’s going to kill me,” she sniffled.

“I assure you, he’s not going t’care. He’s paid t’fix things. He won’t mind at all.”

“I…I tried to fix the kitchen sink.”

He pursed his lips and tilted his head ever so slightly. It was a weird thing to try on her own, but he wasn’t even that surprised that she did. Harry remembered Niall talking about how she relit the pilot light in her utility closet. “Yeah?”

“Tried. The kitchen is… soaked… I think I ruined the floors. They’re mushy already,” she croaked.

Ah. Now he understood. No wonder she was so upset. “Okay, okay. S’alright. We can take care of that,” he hoped he sounded calm.

“I was running a little later than I wanted to because I was getting ready for my weekend away…and then…” her voice broke. “I went to leave and my mom told me no one was going to be around for my birthday so I decided I should just go do a little more work… but it was just me there and there was this awful case waiting for me and I don’t usually let it bother me, but it was a kid, Harry. It was terrible and it was just so sad, and these things happen and know that but today it just felt… different because I felt so alone and… I don’t know. It was just awful,” her voice wavered again.

“M’sorry, darling. So sorry,” he couldn’t imagine what all of that was like on a regular day.

“And… when I rushed back up here and stepped in that puddle… I ran to my room to get towels but I spilled paint all over that floor and I think that’s ruined too and I… I still don’t have a mattress because I’m so busy and I’m so stupid and I don’t know why I can’t just—” she hiccupped. “I’ve been working so much even on the days I don’t actually work. I’m still trying to get settled and make it feel like this apartment is mine and not my uncle’s and… and Brooke thinks I should nap on the autopsy table because it’s good for your neck but that’s so morbid…” Harry didn’t even know what to feel or say about any of that. It was funny, tragic, and terrible. He wanted to give her back rub first and foremost and he was going to give her his bed even if it wasn’t top of the line mattress it had to be better than sleeping on a couch. “And I don’t know what happened today. I stopped for lunch on the way home because it’s my birthday, you know and I was just so upset to be alone and…” she swallowed her breath and Harry was right back to thinking he might be having a heart attack.

It was her birthday.

“I skipped breakfast and since I was all alone, I thought maybe I would just get another coffee and sandwich to treat myself. So, I parked in the garage and walked up the road… I was eating alone and this guy came over and he was hitting on me I think… and I told him I was a doctor, and then when he asked what kind, so I told him. He said I wasn’t a real doctor, like that time Hailey made that comment— but then he wouldn’t leave me alone. He followed me and it was… fine, but I was really so scared and…” Harry squeezed her tightly. They hadn’t moved from the entryway. Without realizing, he was rocking her a bit and desperately willing himself to not put his lips on her. All he wanted to do was comfort her.

“Shh,” he hushed.

“I was so glad you were there,” she croaked. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she cried. “I don’t know…”

“Shh,” he whispered again. “Jus’ breathe, darling. S’okay,” he really didn’t think all ten billion pieces of his heart could find their way back together, but they did.

She wanted him there.

I’m so glad you’re here.

*

Niall suggested it. He was a pretty good wingman, if Harry did like her the way she hoped he did. To Harry’s point, Niall wasn’t mad at her about all the repairs he’d have to do. “The pipes are kinda old in places, darling. If it were a newer place, I’m sure your little fix wouldn’t have done all this. It’s not your fault. We’ll get some people out here ASAP to replace your floors,” he shrugged and vacuumed up the mess as best he could. He had to shut her water off though which meant she needed another place to stay while she went without water.

“My bags already packed. I could probably go back to the hotel…maybe I should just go to my parents. Have the place to myself for the weekend,” she mumbled.

“Maybe you should stay close in case we need something during the repairs. Or if you need something. It might be a while and it would be such a waste of money if it’s just because you don’t have water and stuff,” Niall suggested. “Harry, could you accommodate her?”

Her cheeks warmed at the idea of spending time in Harry’s place for the whole weekend. Harry looked a little nervous as well. He cleared his throat. “Y’could stay if you’d like,” he murmured.

Harry’s place was so much smaller than hers. But it wasn’t as cold and sterile as it felt in her place. It was warm. Lived in. And it was utterly perfect. It reminded her of Harry, and she wished more than anything that she could switch apartments with him just so she could be closer to him.

But that was entirely unfair to give him the one with fucked up floors and no bed.

Harry had a bed. A really warm, inviting bed that looked like it would keep all her nightmares away. He pulled the duffle bag off her shoulder and her workbag away from her other arm. “Sorry about the mess.”

It was perfect. Really perfect. More perfect than her place ever could be. It was tight quarters for the two of them. Harry bumped by her with her stuff as he walked across the room, just to the side of his bed. There was a tall window that looked out into the alleyway behind the building. But there was a small gray and black cat that sat on the wrought iron steps that led up to civilization from his room.

“Do you have a cat?” she asked.

He smirked and instantly looked up at the window. He shook his head with an eye roll. The cat meowed quietly behind the glass as if demanding Harry’s attention. Somehow, she was jealous of this little cat that seemed to know Harry so well.

He grabbed a small bowl off the windowsill. He turned to the kitchen and crouched to one of the lower cabinets. She watched Harry in utter fascination as he opened a bag of cat food, filled the bowl, and pushed the window out of the way and placed the little bowl outside on the step. “This is Leech,” he introduced.

“Leech?” She repeated.

“He’s not my cat, but he hangs out here a lot.” He said it so casually. Like it was obvious. Didn’t everyone have a cat that hung around their basement apartment? “I read out on the steps sometimes in the summer… Leech wouldn’t leave me alone until I fed him. He really loves blueberries,” he ran his hand along the back of Leech’s spine.

“Does he have a collar?”

“No… I think he’s just a stray. S’why I named him Leech. S’pretty sad the one person in this building he found probably the poorest of all to leech off,” he scratched between Leech’s ears; and she stared at Harry in disbelief. She really was jealous of a cat that Harry was taking care of. That was ridiculous. He was letting her stay in his apartment. When Leech devoured all his food he turned around under Harry’s touch making sure Harry scratched and patted the sweet cat all along his back and sides before he took off as quickly as he appeared. Harry rolled his eyes again and grabbed the bowl and put it in the sink. “He’s a weird cat.”

She wondered if it were possible to love someone over something as strange as feeding a stray cat. She looked at the pictures he had hung around his place. It had to be him and his family. Maybe some friends too. She was utterly jealous that she wasn’t in any of them, which made no sense at all. They’d never had a reason to take a picture. Next to the TV hung high on the wall was a bookshelf that was recessed between the window and corner of the room. It was filled with books and trinkets, and she thought that Harry had life all figured out.

“Uh… this might not have been a good idea…” he rubbed his hand on the back of his head. “S’a small place. M’really sorry—”

“Harry, I wish I lived here,” she interrupted immediately. “We’ll make it work.”

His smile seemed to bloom (at least for him). The tip of the corner of his mouth lifted more than normal and she wondered if she could take a picture of him for the background of her phone and so that Brooke wouldn’t make fun of her for not having a picture of her friend. “We’ll make it work,” he repeated.

*

The entire place smelled like Harry. The bathroom was arguably her favorite part because it smelled like Harry’s cologne and shampoo in there and if it weren’t for the fact he would think she was ill, she probably would have just asked to sleep in the bathtub to soak in the heavenly scent. It was warm and cozy. She knew he felt embarrassed by the small space, but she truly was thrilled. They had to sit unbelievably close to one another on the small loveseat while they ate dinner (Chinese takeout, because she insisted that she get him dinner since he was so kindly letting her stay over) that she didn’t even long for the bathtub any longer because she could smell Harry’s cologne wafting off him in waves right next to her.

“Where is this place?” She nearly moaned as she bit into a crab Rangoon. “I’ve been looking for good Chinese food since I moved in.”

He chuckled. “S’the next town over.”

“Oh.”

“The places around here aren’t great.”

“I’ve been testing that out myself.”

He smirked. “M’glad you like it; s’been ages since I ordered out.”

It wasn’t that she thought Harry lacked money in any type of way the way he probably did. But it felt like maybe he was a little more cognizant of the price of things. He probably couldn’t justify eating out as often as she could. It hurt her heart to think about it. The back and forth of her nearly begging to pay for the food probably bruised his ego. Not that she was thinking about it as a date or anything (even if she wished it was) but Harry was so gentlemanly. He probably had some hunter-gatherer complex rolling around in his mind.

“Can I have some water?” She asked, putting some fried rice onto her plate from one of the containers. Harry nearly jumped up to get it for her. It made her feel a lot better and she hoped that it would make Harry feel a lot better too about being able to get something for her. “Thank you,” she said graciously when he returned with a glass. Their fingers brushed as he passed it off to her.

It was near torture to be this close to him and not make out with him. It was unfair that she sobbed into his chest because she was overwhelmed when she ached to be that close to him. Being in his arms was heaven and she didn’t know how to bridge that gap. She didn’t even know if he liked her that way. He probably didn’t. She was a disaster and he probably just felt sorry for her.

She was no better than Leech.

“Do y’want t’watch a movie?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Harry turned on his TV, and he once more looked a little embarrassed. “I have streaming services with ads,” he explained.

“That’s okay, I love ads. They’re natural bathroom breaks.”

His cheeks pinked a bit, and he scrolled through the options. “Do you have a preference?” She shook her head.

“Whatever you want,” she nodded. Harry put the food away during the opening credits and he returned to sit on the small couch alongside her. The length of his body was so close to hers she could just turn toward him if she wanted to. “Do you have a blanket?” She asked.

He got up again and she felt a little guilty that she was making him get everything for her. He returned with a pretty green and gold quilt with paisley designs, and it was really quite beautiful. “My nana made it,” he said sheepishly. “But it’s really warm and—”

It would look perfect in her bedroom if she ever got her bed. It would match her walls, and it went extremely well with Harry’s pretty eyes and complexion. He would look great in her room.

God she was a mess.

“Are you cold?” He asked and settled the blanket over her gently. It felt so safe.

“No… I just… I love blankets,” she smiled sheepishly. And she just wanted Harry to feel better about having company by giving him tasks he could do for her. That seemed really important to him.

He smiled. “Okay, good. If you’re cold, I can turn the heat up.”

She would sweat to death under the quilt and being near Harry. This was perfect. “I’m comfortable,” she promised.

Harry leaned back on the couch, put his feet on the coffee table, and seemed to breathe for the first time in hours. Her eyes glanced at him every so often, but he stayed focused on the movie. She wondered if he noticed her darting eyes and if she was making him uncomfortable. God, he looked so kissable.

Eventually, she was so comfortable, she’d fallen half asleep. “Darling,” he said quietly and nudged her. Still hardly touching her, just a gentle squeeze of her arm and it was gone before she fully recognized it.

“Hmm?” She sighed, turning her head away from his voice. She was cozy and warm. “Is the movie over?”

“I paused it,” he assured her. “We can finish it another day,” he peeled the quilt away from her slowly. She liked there would be another day and a we to speak of. “Come lay in the bed,” he offered.

She shook her head. “No, it’s your bed,” she mumbled and nestled into the couch.

He sighed heavily. “Darling, you’ve not slept in a proper bed in months. M’not arguing with you. Get in bed.”

Even half asleep she loved the sound of that demand. But she wouldn’t kick Harry out of his own bed. “Where will you sleep?” She asked, yawning softly and stretching to get her brain refocused on being awake.

“Kitten, jus’ get in bed.”

She was a little more alert; ready to protest because he was kind to let her stay, but Harry was tall and bulky enough that he couldn’t sleep on the small little sofa. She wouldn’t do that to him when he was being so kind. “I can’t kick you out of your bed.”

“S’no big deal. I can sleep—”

“We could share,” she suggested.

The words died in Harry’s throat. She wondered if she was just reading into all the warmth and fuzziness between them. Maybe Harry didn’t like her like that. But they were friends either way, right? Friends could share a bed if necessary.

“M’bed is kind of small,” he sounded a little upset by this fact. Or was it shy? His place was so nice she didn’t understand why he cared so much about how big his bed was.

And good. She thought. A small bed seemed like great news to her. How close could she get to him that she hadn’t before? “I’ll sleep on top of the covers,” she suggested.

“You don’t have to—” But then he caught himself, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of red that was going to be her next home’s paint job if he wasn’t careful. “I jus’ want you t’be comfortable.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. Harry grabbed the quilt and laid it on top of his comforter for extra warmth. Outside it was raining and the sound was soothing there was a good chance she would fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. “I just have to brush my teeth,” she told him. She dug into her bag for her toothbrush before going to the bathroom. “Can I use your toothpaste?” She asked through the closed door.

“Of course.”

She hoped he felt good about helping her out.

*

The logistics of his small bed were a little bit of a challenge when she knew he was desperately trying to be a gentleman and not touch her. But his bathroom was no longer her favorite room of his place. The pillow beneath her head smelled divine and she wasn’t sure what the future entailed but when the time came, she was going to request to be buried with his pillow. Maybe she would steal it when she went back to her place. Harry wouldn’t notice, right? Maybe she could blame Leech.

Harry wasn’t overly muscular or anything, but he took up a good chunk of space on his mattress. She turned on her side to take up the least amount of surface area possible. It would be a lot fucking easier if he just held her. But she kept that thought to herself.

“M’sorry,” he repeated for the tenth time.

“Harry, I’m very comfortable. Are you comfortable?” She asked. “I’m intruding on your space.”

He shook his head. “I’m comfortable,” his voice was quiet and she kind of thought it was a lie.

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” she whispered.

“Of course, darling.”

Friends have good night kisses sometimes, right? Some friends had to, at least. Why couldn’t they? She took a deep breath. “Have a nice sleep, Mr. Styles,” she joked.

He chuckled quietly and it was a warm, lovely sound. It meshed perfectly with the sound of rain behind her. If she could have recorded it, she was sure it would be the top song of the century. “Good night, darling,” he hummed. For a few moments it was very quiet and she wondered if Harry had already fallen asleep. “Hey darling?” He asked, softly.

“Yeah?” She cleared her throat.

“Happy birthday. I hope tomorrow is a nice day.”

“Thank you.”

*

Harry’s watch read two in the morning. It was still raining. It was still dark and his bed smelled like the prettiest shampoo he’d ever had the pleasure of smelling. There was a small yellow light coming from the alleyway streetlamp. Harry had grown so accustomed to it that he didn’t usually bother with closing the blinds entirely.

He turned slightly to see if his sleeping partner was still dreaming.

She was not.

She was lying on her back, her eyes roamed the ceiling, and Harry truly thought there was nothing more beautiful on this earth than her in his bed.

“Did I wake you?” He murmured.

She startled just a bit but settled almost instantly.

“No… It thundered a little while ago… just listening to the rain”

“Oh, are… you okay?” He asked.

She nodded. “Just thinking.”

Harry shifted carefully trying his hardest not to touch her as he did. More for his sensibility than hers. If he touched her, he was afraid he’d never let her go. It came pretty close to just that the last couple times he was fortunate to touch her. But also fortunately, she was in need of comfort and Harry wasn’t so far gone as he was now that he couldn’t compartmentalize the way he held her. If he touched her now… there was no reason to stop. There was no comfort to be given. It would be selfish of him really.

“Did the light bother you?” He asked. She shook her head and it was just so unfair how beautiful she was. How smart she was. How perfect she was. It was like she was made in a lab specifically meant to torture him and his heart. She was too kind, too lovely, too everything that was meant for him to fall ridiculously hard for her. “M’really sorry you’re stuck here, darling,” he mumbled.

The light sifted through the blinds. It painted over in such a way that it made her practically glow this beautiful golden color. She looked like a goddess. Harry always thought the light was pretty; romantic, even like a movie.

But he never thought it looked like this. Seeing her like this would haunt his place for the rest of his life even after she was back in her own place.

Harry wondered why she wasn’t speaking as the silence stretched between them for a while. “Are you ever going to kiss me?”

His heart stopped for a few moments, and he thought maybe he was still dreaming. They hadn’t actually woken up in the middle of the night. After a bit longer, it felt like his heart restarted. It seemed impossible, he had to be asleep still.

This incredible woman, in every sense of the word, didn’t really want to kiss a doorman in his dungeon apartment lying awake right next to him because he forgot to close the blinds.

He cleared his throat. “Oh… I didn’t know…” he trailed off feeling completely thrown. He was lucky she didn’t interrupt him or there would have been a voice crack as he tried to speak that would make her run for the hills.

“Didn’t know… that I wanted to? Harry,” she laughed wryly and shook her head softly at his ineptitude. “I could have easily stayed at a hotel nearby while they fixed my floors.”

His heart leapt to his throat and blocked his vocal cords. It felt like his body went numb. He had to say something, do something. Anything. Even if it was wrong. Anything but sit there and let her think that she was silly for thinking he was in love with her.

“Maybe… maybe I misinterpreted—” she slowly moved to shift out from under the covers.

Thankfully, Harry finally recovered (by divine intervention because it wasn’t his own self that managed to get him to think again). He grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving him. He was so thankful he didn’t close the blinds because that pretty golden light allowed him to use his other hand to caress her cheek without accidentally poking her in the eye and ruining the moment (more than he already had).

He pulled her down half on top of him, his hand sliding further into the back of her hair and his lips slid between hers. He moaned the second they touched. He felt so light but so heavy. All the air and tension left his body. She whimpered, actually whimpered against the sound of his moan. He pulled her toward him and with that momentum, rolled half over top of her. He bracketed one arm to the side of her head to balance his weight from crushing her. He thought about how she’d taste and feel in his bed more times than he could say and he was so wrong about how much better it would feel than he could ever imagine.

Her lips felt so soft and right against him. The feeling exploded like tiny sparks on the sensitive skin of his mouth. He groaned again as her hands scratched at his scalp and her fingers threaded into the back of his hair. He pressed himself into the kiss a little harder for a moment; her head sank into the pillow with his movement.

It occurred to him then that she had a terrible day, on her birthday no less and maybe she didn’t want him to shove his tongue halfway down her throat when she was trying to sleep.

Gently, he pulled back. She almost gasped at the relief of catching her breath as he panted over her. “Is this… okay?” He mumbled and pressed a kiss to just above her eyebrow because it felt sinful to let his lips move away from her skin now that he’d had a taste. She shivered and Harry brushed his hand along her arm hoping to warm her.

“Yes,” she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes… yes, it’s very okay. You can keep doing all of that,” her words were a little stilted, out of breath.

Harry chuckled briefly, tilted her chin up and gazed at her pretty eyes cast with the gold light. Then down to her lips again. If this was a dream he never wanted to wake up. If it weren’t for the ache in his lips he already had for missing hers, he would consider looking at her in this romantic light for the rest of the night.

But she wanted him to keep kissing her and Harry was absolute putty to whatever she wanted.

He took her lips between his again. Harry caught the way her lashes fluttered close right as he met her lips and she whimpered again. Harry thought it would be really nice to die right then and there if he had to.

Harry was sad that her day was so horrendous. It wasn’t fair that it was her birthday and she was so upset and got stuck in a cramped little apartment.

But he really hoped that the day after her birthday would be nice.

He was pretty certain he would have no choice but to have a nice day if it was starting with her pretty lips attached to his.

--

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[1d1195]

Have a Nice Day, Miss - Part V

Read Have a Nice Day, Miss here | ~6.8k words

From Me/Warnings: emergency medical treatment (allergy related), some more mutual pining and slow burning. Some cute jealousrry. Have a Nice Day, Y'all. Thanks for waiting on me 💕

Summary: “Something like that,” he nodded to himself. Harry was going to make sure the brilliant, pretty doctor had a nice end to her day regardless of the beginning of it.

Mr. Langley adored her. It was clear. It was like she was his niece. Harry could see the way they smirked at each other and giggled together as they exited the elevator each morning. Arthur really enjoyed her company and that made Harry very happy.

Because aside from Arthur, there were a good number of people that lived in Kingsley Place who seemed less friendly toward her. Maybe not outright dislike her, but leaned more toward distrusting her.

Cameron Rivera, for example, openly flirted with anything that moved and was immediately displeased that the pretty resident in 12A didn’t fall at his feet. (Harry was much happier about it than he could ever let on.) Cameron continued to flirt (harmlessly) with her despite her boundary. But the most obvious issue Cameron had with her was that he didn’t care that she worked for a living (and worked abundantly hard). As far as Harry could tell, Cameron got a bullshit degree and lived off a trust fund doing whatever he wanted. That included bullshit investing and app startups that his mom and dad could always bail him out if the plan went south. All it meant was a lack of understanding on his part of how she could want to work. Harry hoped that she would never fall for his charm because she deserved to do whatever she wanted to do. Not what he said she should do, not make herself smaller because she enjoyed working just to appease him—or anyone for that matter.

Sloane Sterling was one of Hailey’s friends. As such, they spent a lot of time together and so it felt natural that maybe the two young women would appreciate a third woman around the same age to add to their group. Especially someone so intelligent, beautiful, and sweet. But it was obvious that Hailey found her kindness weird. Her small talk was destabilizing. Harry could see on Hailey’s face that she wanted to hate the pretty doctor, but it was hard. How do you hate someone so kind and lovely?

Sloane was a bit nicer but a little too self-involved to really bring anyone else into her inner circle. She was constantly offering makeup and hair advice to her (even though Harry didn’t want her to change one little thing about her appearance). Sloane constantly forgot her name and didn’t understand how she could be the kind of doctor she was and all but openly gagged when she mentioned it. It was morbid to Sloane and didn’t know how anyone could want to be a medical examiner. Harry knew she kept her profession to herself and sure, he understood that Sloane was a little uneasy about it, but it was still rude.

Similarly, it seemed like Mason Collins was also not her biggest fan. Like Cameron, he found her quirky for working so hard. Mainly because Mason spent nearly four days a week on the golf course schmoozing with top financial names in the business. There was not a lot he had in common with the pretty medical examiner. For which Harry was very grateful.

Harry was selfish. He wanted her all to himself and he really had no right. She didn’t even know how much he liked her and he felt like he really couldn’t tell her. It felt wrong to like her so much. There was just so much more to her and Harry felt like there was so little of him.

Harry truly loved it when she sat by the fireplace in the lobby because it almost felt like they were working side-by-side. He even started liking her semi-frequent court appearances more and more; only because he thought she was so extra pretty and professional looking when she dressed up for the day. He (almost) didn’t mind that Lieutenant Davis picked her up. He requested she let him know when her court appearances were happening because he really liked being able to get her morning coffee before she could. It made him feel a little more useful to her.

Especially since she still bought him (and Niall) treats. She was constantly bringing sweets she baked or sandwiches from her apartment on her days off and Harry really wished that Henry had brought her around ages ago.

But all the court appearances or lounging in the lobby couldn’t compare to how absolutely beautiful she looked running alongside him. Harry was sure she’d never feel the same way but there was something so pretty about how she giggled in the muted light from over her stove as they ate grilled cheeses around her kitchen island.

Even if Harry didn’t tell her how he really felt, he felt privileged to be her friend. So, he continued on with those similar routines for months. He listened to the younger residents’ gossip about her and the older ones comment on her relation to Henry. She sat in the lobby and had her little study party with residents’ kids. She got Niall donuts and other snacks at least every other day. She also hid him from Mrs. Wentworth every now and again. She made Mr. Langley smile and brightened every one of Harry’s shifts and runs.

It felt like she had lived there for ages when it had only been a handful of months. Somehow, despite the eternity it felt like she lived there, he didn’t really know her. It was definitely, mainly, his fault. He tried so hard to keep her at arm’s length solely because he didn’t think that their relationship would never really exist. If he knew her at any deeper level, Harry worried he’d never recover. He would always pine for something that could never happen.

“S’quiet this morning,” he muttered to Niall as he sipped his coffee at the front desk. Harry didn’t get coffee for her this morning because he didn’t know what time she’d be down. It was her short shift day and she had a little more flexibility in the morning and Harry would rather die than give her gross old coffee to start her day.

He smirked. “Yeah, thank God,” he headed into the office to grab the clipboard of visits he needed to make today. He skimmed the list and whistled to himself. “I’m not going to jinx it, but this list looks like I might catch up today.”

Harry smiled. “Sounds like y’jinxed it anyway.”

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Niall asked.

He rolled his eyes. “She’s not m’girlfriend,” he grumbled. Did he sound a little more bitter than he should have? Perhaps.

“Harry,” Niall chuckled. “The fact you know who I’m referring to, is extremely telling. Would you just tell her how you feel?”

Harry shook his head. “S’not that simple,” his voice was quiet. “She’s… so smart, Niall. And so kind. And everything she does has this bigger purpose and I’m…I’m a doorman. I wait on rich people and that’s it.”

Niall frowned at his best friend. A sympathetic look came over his face. “Harry, it’s not who you are.” Harry shrugged. He was tired of having this conversation with Niall. “So you’re gonna be alone for the rest of your life?” Niall wondered. Harry shrugged and scribbled on the little notepad. “You’re being ridiculous,” Niall shook his head. “She really likes you. I don’t know how you don’t see that.”

But the problem was that maybe, in the right light, he did see it. She smiled at him an awful lot. And not just the polite smiles in greeting that most of the building gave him. There was the running alongside him at night. The way she constantly brought him treats. Or how she always complimented him in front of Mrs. Wentworth. It was madness.

In the other light, Harry just couldn’t stop thinking about how it would never work. He didn’t want to be heartbroken. Not by her. He’d gladly suffer heartbreak over and over but after these few short months and only scratching the surface of knowing her, he wouldn’t live if she broke his heart.

When Harry looked up again, Niall was gone to do his work. That was fine because the elevator pinged with someone arriving in the lobby so it was Harry’s cue to get to work all the same.

Or rather, it was a lot of someones. Hailey and Sloane stepped off the elevator and sat in the cozy chairs near the fireplace and stared at their phones. (Harry was briefly irritated because that was her spot and even though she wasn’t going to be sitting there today, Harry didn’t like the idea of anyone else sitting there).

Mason had his golf clubs on his shoulder and his phone pressed to his ear. Robert Keningston also filed out alongside Thomas Sinclair, two older gentlemen who had lived at Kingsley Place for ages. Harry figured they were likely on their way to the offices they worked in and wouldn’t be surprised if they shared a cab. Everyone was in a quiet conversation and for a moment it just felt really nice; almost like a family, in a really weird way.

Harry loved his job, he really did. Whether he would ever see himself as more the way Niall said she saw him, was to be determined.

The elevator pinged again after a few moments, and his favorite resident stepped into the lobby. She made direct eye contact with him first. A smile bloomed across her pretty face making her even more beautiful. She was wearing scrubs and her hair was wrapped in a clip at the back of her head. Harry clicked the order button on his phone for her usual coffee order. “Good morning, Mr. Styles,” she said heading to the front desk.

“Good morning,” he smiled gently back at her. “Short day today, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Thank God,” she sighed. She looked a little tired. Not in a bad way but maybe got a bad night’s sleep. “I desperately need a nap.”

“Did y’mattress ever deliver?” He asked.

“Well—”

“Harry!” Cameron came down on the elevator with Mrs. Wentworth. A late start for her, but she headed right to the mailboxes as she always did.

“Mr. Rivera,” he nodded politely.

“I have an important package coming today, could you bring it to my apartment?”

“Yes, sir,” he said easily.

“Sorry to interrupt, Doc,” he winked at her waiting patiently. “You look gorgeous today,” he smiled knowingly.

She snorted. “Thank you, Cameron,” she shook her head.

“I think I’d be cured just looking at you if I came to you with an illness,” he continued.

She covered her mouth again to hide her awkward laugh and even though Harry hated that Cameron was flirting with her so openly, he rather enjoyed the blush of pride on her cheeks. She should feel good about what she did and for better or worse, Cameron was right.

She was absolutely stunning.

However, that burst of pride disappeared after a moment. “She’s not that kind of doctor, Cameron,” Hailey reminded him as she and Sloane made their way over. Harry suspected Hailey was a bit enamored with Cameron and probably got quite jealous of him flirting with anyone. But he knew Hailey wasn’t her biggest fan, so it surely only made her angrier.

Harry saw something flash in her eyes as she looked away from the group of young money residents. Something that Harry was used to feeling so he recognized it almost immediately. But he couldn’t believe it…

Did she feel inadequate? That couldn’t possibly be true. She was the least inadequate. More adequate than he could ever imagine. Adequate was such a terrible descriptor for her anyway. “Well, I’ve got to get to work,” her voice got much softer as she spoke. The bubbliness in her eyes disintegrated before his eyes.

“I ordered you coffee,” Harry murmured. “Wait a minute, yeah? I’ll run up the street and grab it.” He offered.

She bit her lip and Harry could see the unease in her eyes. It was so rare to see it, and it made him feel like shit that she felt less than in front of a bunch of snobby people. “I think I’ll just head to work,” she shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll see you after lunch,” she swallowed. “Thank you, Harry.”

He nodded. A frown pursed on his lips. He felt bad he couldn’t get her the coffee she probably wanted but didn’t want to force her. “Have a nice day, Miss,” she grinned weakly and headed out the main door.

*

She needed to get her bed squared away. By the time she got home from work she was simply too exhausted and the number listed didn’t work so she needed to Google the correct one which was a process in itself. Then there was dinner to cook—or a run to go on (and she’d rather never sleep again than not go on a run with Harry). Or there was another project to deal with and quite frankly the couch and air mattress were enough, for now so it really didn’t feel like a big enough deal to argue with the company when she was exhausted.

She could have just ordered a new one. It was ridiculous she hadn’t at this point.

Stupid even.

But there was just something about it that was so irritating she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Like when she needed to schedule a dentist appointment and just couldn’t. It should have been there by now and even if it was really only hurting herself, she didn’t want to deal with it.

“Do you want to try this taco truck for lunch?” Brooke asked, knocking on her office door and entering without waiting for her reply.

She did. She really wanted to have a friend like Brooke. More than she wanted her new mattress. (But not as much as she wanted to see her favorite doorman.)

But there was something off about the report she was going over. It seemed familiar. Like there was a word or something on the tip of her tongue and she couldn’t piece it together. She wasn’t supposed to stay longer than her short shift but it was going to keep her up if she couldn’t figure it out and she had a better chance of staying focused on whatever was hiding in her brain if she was in the office.

“I’ll have to pass this time, but thank you,” she smiled kindly. “Have a good weekend.”

“See you Monday!” She chirped and practically skipped out the door.

She scanned the report in front of her again. Was it a relative of another person she did a report for? Maybe it was just a coincidence. She sighed, rubbed her temples trying to get the ideas to flow.

A new bed would have probably helped with the thoughts scrolling through her mind. A solid night’s sleep would have done wonders for her in general, but especially when she needed it right then.

“Hmm,” she hummed to herself. She fiddled with her pen and stared at the same words and names as she had for the last few minutes. Nothing continued to make much sense. Just an idea on the edge of her brain, something she couldn’t quite touch or hold just out of reach.

With a deep sigh, she set all the papers aside for the time being. She needed to clean up and do some inventory. Maybe it would come to her on a run. The weather was getting warmer and it was remaining lighter out for longer. Running with Harry meant there were some really pretty sunset skies peeking through wispy clouds and she seriously thought that the entire universe was out to make her feel ridiculous over a man that clearly didn’t want her. It was practically romantic (if it weren’t for her heavy breathing as she struggled to keep up with Harry) and wildly unfair.

She stayed later than she should have; waiting for an epiphany that simply wouldn’t come. With another deep sigh, she rubbed the back of her neck, closed her office and headed for Kingsley Place.

Harry wasn’t at his desk when she returned, which made her sad and soured her day even more.

She turned for the elevator where Mrs. Wentworth was waiting (impatiently) for the doors to open. “Afternoon, Mrs. Wentworth.”

“This elevator is on it’s last legs, I swear,” she complained.

She was a bit too tired to brighten the crabby woman’s mood, so she simply nodded. “I can put in a ticket for Niall to take a look or get a vendor to come look at it,” she offered.

She swore the old woman mumbled something like lazy bones under her breath. That was too much interaction with Mrs. Wentworth for the day she was having. She should have taken the coffee Harry offered earlier in the morning. “Ah shoot,” she glanced in her bag making a show of it. “I left my phone in the car,” she murmured and headed toward the main entrance.

“The good it would do you young’uns to lose your phone for a bit,” she said knowingly as the elevator pinged with its arrival. She rolled her eyes and smirked to herself and decided she may as well go get the coffee she desperately needed if she was going to go a few rounds with the company refusing to deliver her mattress or make any accommodation to remedy the situation.

She waited in line patiently behind the after-lunch crowd. She wanted to sleep in a bed. Maybe she could go visit her family and sleep in her old bed. Or rent a hotel room. Anything to get the knot out of her neck.

“All set, Miss. Harry told us the next one was on him,” the barista behind the counter smiled kindly at her. Her chest tightened at the sound of his name. It was extremely thoughtful of him; and she knew he knew how affected she was by the words of Hailey, Sloane and everyone else. Getting her a coffee was very kind of him. Even if he was just doing his job.

She returned to Kingsley Place and was greeted once more with an empty lobby. Fortunately, no one (crabby) was waiting for the elevator either. She frowned a little deeper at the sight of the empty desk without her favorite doorman present. She was hoping she could thank him, but perhaps she could email him or send him a text to the work number he gave her.

She was so tired she thought that maybe the air mattress really wouldn’t be that bad today. That the fight with the company could wait yet another day. She took a deep breath and dropped her bag at her feet when she stepped on the elevator trying to alleviate the stress pains in her shoulder blades. The elevator rose to her floor and she practically dragged her bag behind her through the entryway.

She made the executive decision that there would be no arguing phone calls today. Instead, she hopped in the shower; let the hot water run over her aches for some time before getting out. Her coffee wasn’t doing a great job at keeping her eyelids open as she put moisturizer on her cheeks and down the sides of her neck. She put on some clothes that she would be willing to run in after her nap. Honestly, the floor sounded as good a place as any to nap.

As soon as her socks were on and she truly considered sleeping on the floor because she couldn’t even bear the thought of bringing herself to her air mattress, there was a rapid, loud knocking on the door. Because of course there was.

But the rapid pounding didn’t let up for several seconds and all thoughts of sleep left her brain. She rushed over and pulled the door out of the way. She quickly assessed with her eyes before any of the hurried words from the frantic woman before her caught in her ears.

There was a small girl heaving in the mother’s tight hold at her waist. Her name was Aurelia. She heard the mom in front of her call after the small girl in the lobby a few times before while she worked in front of the fireplace and ogled Harry. It was usually to tell Aurelia not to run through the lobby.

But there was only so much she could make out over the anxiety and high pitched-near-shrieking that Mom was shouting at her and into the phone at the same time. Aurelia’s skin was red and blotchy; her lips were turning the slightest shade of blue and were swelling by the second. There were so many tears between the two people before her and the sound of a methodical, calm voice coming from the phone held in Mom’s hand.

Ten minutes out.

We’re trying to get someone to you.

She could almost picture the medical box in Harry’s office with the AED. There was enough of a chance that an Epi-pen was in there to get her moving faster. She grabbed the woman and child by the arm and ushered them into the elevator—she wasn’t sure she closed her door, but it didn’t matter. While Mom spoke into the phone, she crouched beside the young girl. Her mother was (rightly) distraught as she sobbed into the phone. “We’re going to get you help,” she promised as calmly as she could to the little girl. She was so very thankful there was not one stop to the bottom floor. But perhaps because she held the close door button down superstitiously the entire time helped a bit too. The little girl looked terrified as she tried to catch a breath that just wouldn’t come.

“Does she have an allergy?” She asked looking up to the mother.

“Not one I knew about,” her mom cried. It wasn’t uncommon to spontaneously develop an allergy. But it was terrifying, of course.

We’re sending someone as soon as we can to help and ambulance will be there as soon as we can.

Goddammit.

Quietly she introduced herself to the dispatcher, gave her credentials and explained the situation as best she could from the medical professional standpoint.

The tiredness she felt in the shower was gone and hardly more than a memory. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins rapidly as she watched the little girl struggle to breathe. She quietly spoke to her and told her not to panic as much as she possibly could—that she was extremely brave and there would be help in no time. The elevator pinged on its arrival to the lobby.

Right as they stepped off the elevator Aurelia collapsed.

Her mom screamed something fierce. She grabbed the girl before she hit her head in the fall. She laid Aurelia flat on the floor, checked her pulse in her wrist first, then her neck. The phone slipped from her mother’s grip.

“What the— oh… oh God.”

The gentle tenor of Harry’s voice wasn’t enough to calm her nerves as it usually did. She started compressions on the little girl’s chest knowing that a broken rib was okay and expected (but praying she didn’t anyway). “Harry, do you have an Epi-pen in the AED box?” She asked quickly, breathlessly with the exertion.

He was barely in sight to hear the full question before he was hurrying into his office. There was a siren distantly, she wasn’t sure it was for them, but she silently hoped it was. Harry returned with the box and set it on the floor next to her. She continued the compressions as Harry opened the kit and pulled out a variety of first aid items. Harry spotted the yellow, orange, and blue medication. He unclipped it from the plastic, tubular packaging.

“Orange to thigh, blue to the sky under your thumb,” she ordered. Harry swallowed hard lining his thumb up. “Harry,” she said gently, encouragingly. Her voice was quite a bit uneven as she continued her compressions. “It’s okay, you can do it. I’m here,” she assured him. He nodded, looking a little paler. He didn’t want to mess up, she knew that. No one did. Aurelia’s mother was doing her best to remain calm while the dispatcher gave her a time update. “Take the cap off the end,” she grunted breathing heavily as she pushed against Aurelia’s chest as hard as she was supposed to.

The siren was louder. Harry followed her direction as people stopped to ogle at the building from the window. “You’re going to push it hard into her leg,” she explained. “You’ll feel a pop or a click and you’re going to push your thumb down for three seconds don’t pop it off her leg, you have to hold it,” she warned.

He swallowed hard again and turned Aurelia’s leg just a hair to get a better angle of her outer thigh. “I don’t—”

“Just do it,” she grunted. So, Harry listened. He heard the click as he pushed the needle into the outside of her thigh. “Perfect,” she was gasping as well but didn’t stop. Sweat lined her forehead right where her hair began.

“Holy shit,” it was Mason that spoke the words and he dropped his golf clubs to the side and hovered close to watch the scene unfold.

“I’ll call you back,” Cameron murmured to the phone against his ear almost at the same time.

“Check her pulse in her wrist,” she said to Harry.

“There’s a faint pul—”

Aurelia coughed and effectively interrupted Harry. Instantly, removed her hands from the little girl’s chest compressions immediately. “Hey Aurelia, welcome back,” she whispered. Her lips were still pale, her skin still blotchy. “You gave Mommy quite the scare,” her own voice strained with all the exertion. She pushed strands of Aurelia’s hair back and smiled softly. “You’re being so brave, I think someone’s here to take you to the hospital now,” she said knowingly and glanced toward the main entrance. Lieutenant Davis rushed inside while telling the crowd to be on their way.

“Doc, what a surprise,” Lieutenant Davis said and helped the mother off the floor, “Spence,” he said into cell phone. “I’m on scene, I’m taking her in my car let them know we’ll be there in less than ten.”

“Do you need help?” She asked standing quickly.

“You have no shoes on,” he stated glancing at her feet. “I’ve got it,” he winked at her calmly. Aurelia’s breathing improved a little more by the second and would at least get her to the hospital before something more needed to be done or she started to struggle again.

Harry kindly helped Aurelia’s mother to the Lieutenant’s car. It was the same way Harry guided her to his SUV when she had court appearances early in the morning. She was irrationally jealous. It wasn’t the time, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She had a tiring day, and it was supposed to be her short day.

She grabbed the discarded clips and tubes from the Epi-pen and padded in just her socks across the lobby to Harry’s office to toss them away.

Her chest ached with something she couldn’t quite place. It didn’t make sense. She did the right thing. The thing anyone would have done in her situation. Not solely because she was a doctor.

For some reason the words Hailey spoke that morning were at the forefront of her mind. She wasn’t that kind of doctor. What Hailey said was accurate. She didn’t usually fix people the way a typical doctor did.

But she did fix Aurelia. The little girl wasn’t going to suffer from any lack of oxygen or blood flow. She was going to get a new diet regimen for whatever allergy she had and have a fun new story to explain at show and tell in her elementary class.

Everyone was huddled at the window watching Lieutenant Davis and Harry get the mother and daughter in the SUV and on their way.

As much as she loved the lobby (almost more than she loved her new apartment) and would have loved to see Harry for longer than a minute… she was… a bit… overwhelmed. A bit upset with… everything. Anxiety clawed at her chest, she felt this undeniable need to get out of the lobby as quickly as she possibly could.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, she let the dam burst and cried all the way to the twelfth floor.

 What she would’ve given to have a princess moment and throw herself on her bed and sob into her pillow.

But her couch would have to do. As that was all there was.

*

“I was gone for half an hour, and I missed all the excitement,” Niall said settling the sandwiches he got for Harry and himself on the desk.

Harry was filling out paperwork about the incident. He would need her signature on the report. He was hoping to make sure she was alright after all the fanfare, but by the time he got Aurelia and her mother settled in the lieutenant’s car, she was gone. Harry desperately wanted to go after her, but he had to do the proper paperwork, and he hoped that maybe he could just… be there for her if she needed someone. It broke his heart that she disappeared. No one thanked her. Not even Davis.

Harry wanted to thank her. He was scared out of his mind and she was utterly calm.

“She was incredible,” Harry murmured quietly, reverently even.

Niall grinned. “You think she’s incredible all the time.”

Harry rolled his eyes and finished his paperwork before he turned to his sandwich. “S’neither here nor there.”

Niall smirked and unwrapped his sandwich. “You didn’t go after her?”

“I don’t want t’have t’stop t’do something else. I’d rather give her m’undivided attention,” he explained around a mouthful of food. Harry ran a hand through his hair and fiddled with the pen he used to fill out the report. “M’gonna go up after I get the report settled. I have t’order a new Epi-pen for the kit…” he explained. “I should probably figure out what I need t’do for Aurelia and Mrs. Higgins. They’re going t’be out of sorts.”

Niall nodded in agreement. His eyebrows pinched together suddenly and then he nodded his chin out toward the main lobby. “Your girlfriend’s leaving,” he stated.

Harry didn’t bother with correcting him. He would have, but she had a carry on behind her and she was all but sprinting for the door. “You scuffed the elevator floor,” Mrs. Wentworth grumbled bitterly after her.

Harry hurried after the pretty doctor right as she got to the main door. “Hey!” He called gently and caught her by the elbow right as she turned outside the door. “Where y’off to 12A? I was going to—”

It was clear he should have gone after her immediately after he helped Mrs. Higgins and her daughter into the SUV. He was fairly certain the guilt would wrack him at night for weeks. It was going to eat at him until there was nothing left. The outside corners of her eyes were pink and red—like they were rubbed too hard for too long. The tip of her nose a similar shade.

And then she sniffled, avoiding his gaze. “Hey…” he said gently.

“Did you need something?” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked past Harry.

“Darling,” he hummed softly and reached for her upper arm in a (hopefully) comforting way. “Are you—”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” her voice caught on his name, and she put a hand to her mouth. “I… I really need to sleep. And I need to sleep on a bed and I’m going to a hotel, so can this wait until—”

“Can what wait? What do y’mean y’need t’sleep in a—?”

There was no other way to describe what he saw. The most beautiful looking diamonds appeared in her eyes. They sparkled in the sunlight, and she brought a hand to her mouth and heaved on a breath. Harry didn’t understand how she could look so pretty and sad at the same time. It was a marvel. The tears that built in her eyes looked like the prettiest most gems he’d ever see in his life. “Harry,” she croaked.

“C’mere,” he put his hand on her lower back and ushered her inside. She shook her head and tried to tug away from him. It was almost futile. Like she was too weak to really get away.

“I don’t want to—”

“Jus’ for a minute, love. Jus’ need t’check on you—”

“Harry,” she whined. He wanted to take the sadness out of her voice. Wanted to pluck all the pain from her as she swiped at her eyes with her hands. Niall swiftly made his way out of the office as soon as he caught Harry’s gaze from the window. He saluted Harry taking his sandwich elsewhere and let Harry have the office with the girl he liked so much.

Once inside the small room, he closed the door behind them.

An anguished little cry burst from her mouth once the door was shut and Harry just wanted to hold her. He wanted to squeeze the hurt out of her. He didn’t know what else to do or what else he could do.

So he did it. He wrapped her in his arms while the sound of the door closing still echoed in the quiet room. He held her against his body and hoped that it would do something to take the sadness out of her pretty eyes. “It’s okay,” he whispered above her head. “Aurelia’s fine,” he promised.

“I—” she sniffled, gasping like she couldn’t breathe. Harry felt terrible. Her arms weakly grabbed at his waist and he couldn’t help how good it felt to hold her like this. What he would have given for it to be a better reason.

“Y’were so brave, darling,” he murmured into her hair. “M’sorry y’had t’go through that,” he cupped the back of her head with one hand and gently massaged his thumb against the side of her neck. His other hand moved slowly, softly along her spine. “I should have gone after you,” he squeezed her for a brief moment. “M’sorry, love,” he sighed sadly. “Can I do something for you?”

She shook her head against him and cried softly. “I—” she heaved, trying to regulate her sobs. “I didn’t—”

“Shh,” he hushed softly. “Jus’… let it out, darling,” he continued the soft massage against her neck and pulled her closer toward him somehow. It felt so nice to have her warm and close to him. “You did so good,” he murmured softly into her hair. “It was incredible, love. Truly.”

She sniveled and took a shaky breath. “I just… Hailey said I’m not—”

He physically winced against her. He wondered if she felt the way his body tensed. He was really hoping that wouldn’t be what she said. “Don’t…” he sighed. “You are incredible. You saved Aurelia’s life,” he reminded her. “That’s…” he shook his head. “Y’can’t listen t’what she said when y’jus’… performed a miracle.”

She snorted. “It wasn’t a miracle,” she mumbled humbly.

“It was, love. Y’were home. Y’stayed calm. Y’were… there,” he hoped the awe in his voice was reaching her. “M’glad you were there. I would have panicked a bit without you,” he said knowingly. She pulled back just a little and it felt so cold Harry wanted to pull her right back into his embrace. “Thank you,” he hoped his gratitude was as evident as his awe.

Her mouth deepened into a frown and a fresh wave of tears filled her eyes. “You’re welcome,” she muttered.

“Do you need anything?” He asked.

She shook her head and glanced down at his shirt. There was dried salt already staining the fabric. “I can get your suit dry cleaned,” she offered softly.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. What was it y’were saying ‘bout your bed? It still hasn’t delivered?” He supposed that made sense. He would have remembered a mattress delivery. Wasn’t exactly a small package that he would have missed. But he should have noticed that he hadn’t seen it.

She shook her head again.

“So you’ve been sleeping on your couch?” He asked.

She shrugged. “I have the air mattress too—”

“S’unacceptable,” he pouted. “Where did y’get it from?” he asked and pulled the last bit away from her and turned to his desk. He picked up a pen and scribbled down the company name she gave him. “D’you have the confirmation number?” She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped on her screen a few times until she listed off a series of letters and numbers. “What hotel are you going to?” He hated that she was leaving. For any length of time, really. Truthfully, part of him almost hated that she worked as much as the young-money residents did. Solely because he just wanted her to be there, around him, all the time. But he wanted her to feel better more than he cared about being selfish about her presence.

“It’s just… around the corner on Seventh and Main,” she shrugged. “I just need a real mattress,” her voice cracked again.

He nodded sympathetically and smiled gently at her. “You do,” he affirmed. “Can I call you a cab?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I can walk. I… I feel better now,” she sniffed. “Thank you for… letting me have a minute,” she swallowed. “I didn’t really have a good day,” she dropped her gaze to her feet.

“M’sorry,” he said gently. “M’sure a good sleep will make y’feel better.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, darling. Y’were brilliant today,” he continued to grin at her. Hopefully in a way that didn’t make him look ridiculous. He felt ridiculous. But he couldn’t help it. She was lovely and wonderful, and she just made him smile even when he didn’t want to.

A beautiful bloom of pink spread across her cheeks. “Thanks,” she sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed. “Can you… just see if anyone is out there? I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. And… I’m sorry I scuffed—”

“Love, don’t,” he shook his head quickly and moved to the doorway and opened it. For all the excitement there was earlier, there wasn’t a soul in the lobby at present. “S’all clear. Call if y’need something,” he offered.

“Thank you,” she repeated. “Harry?” She said softly.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for the coffee, that… was the highlight of my day.”

Harry tilted his head down a bit and felt a wave of blood rush across his face. But a smile twinged at his lips. “Anytime,” he walked beside her to the main entrance and held the door open. “Have a nice day, Miss.”

“Have a nice day, Harry.”

“Sleep well,” he smiled gently as she walked away. The smallest smile graced her pretty lips as she glanced over her shoulder back to him. Harry watched her walk away until he couldn’t see her any longer then hurried back inside.

He pulled up the phone number for her mattress company and scribbled it down beside the other information he got from her. He would call them in a minute.

But he had a different, more important and pressing phone call to make. “Good afternoon,” he said to the receptionist. “Can y’transfer me t’Raleigh at the spa?”

“Hello?”

“Raleigh, hi. Harry from Kingsley Place. I need a favor.”

He heard Raleigh chuckle at the other end. “You taking me up on my spa day offer?”

When the spa first opened in the hotel, Raleigh had come to the luxury apartments all around their small city as well as some of the neighboring ones. Business was slow at first, which was to be expected, but Harry could tell Raleigh was nervous that he wasn’t going to make it with his big plans for the pretty spa.

Fortunately, Harry conveniently suggested to Hailey that she try the spa up the road after she pulled a muscle playing tennis.

And if Hailey told her millions of followers about the quality of the spa, well, that was none of Harry’s business.

“Something like that,” he nodded to himself. Harry was going to make sure the brilliant, pretty doctor had a nice end to her day regardless of the beginning of it.

--

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