I'm a creature of habit.  There is no denying it. 

Every Saturday I do the same thing that I've done for as long as I can remember, and I don't think there is anything wrong with having a little order and routine in your life.

At around 8am, I get out of bed, treating myself to a lay-in of a few hours compared to my usual 6am wake up. I make some breakfast, usually toast or some muesli if I have milk in the fridge, which is barely ever.  If it's a nice morning I sit out on the balcony and take a moment to myself, smoking a cigarette and drinking an espresso.

I always clean the apartment from top to bottom every Saturday, despite the fact I have a cleaning lady that comes during the week.  I like things clean and organised, everything in my home has a place.  

My apartment, on the second top floor, is big, excessive maybe, for just one person but when I saw the designs, I immediately fell in love.  The three bedrooms are large and all with their own bathrooms, a huge entertainers kitchen looks over an open plan dining area and lounge, even though no one except Katie, my ex, Adam and my cleaning lady, Heather have been here in three years.  The parquet floors are a rich, deep brown and the white marble and gold accents around the home make me feel like I'm in my own private, luxury hotel.

Money wasn't an issue, I earn a lot, given it's the only way my father is able to acknowledge the work I do and I feel that every penny is justified given how many hours I give that place.  So, when I came into the office with a payment for the top floor I was pretty upset to be told it wasn't available... to me. 

'Pretty upset' is probably a drastic understatement. Hurt, devastated, confused, frustrated, disappointed, discouraged, all fit the emotions that were mixed with seething anger at the time of the decision that I believed was completely unfair.

I convinced myself shortly after, that I didn't need the top floor. Except for a bigger wrap around balcony, it was just as good as the one below it, and I should be grateful that I'm in a position to buy my dream home regardless of the level.

After I finish cleaning, I have a long, hot shower, my favourite thing to do, before getting dressed and ready to head into the office, where I usually spend the afternoon.

I get that some people would think this is a pretty sad excuse for a weekend, but I don't mind it.  I like having a purpose and I enjoy working.  I want to get ahead, prove myself, and I know that takes dedication and sacrifice. To me, it's worth giving up my weekends for.

"I'm proud of you for putting yourself out there," Katie says down the phone as I throw out my pre-packaged salad container; my sad excuse for a dinner.

I had arrived home from work about an hour ago and was filling Katie in on the embarrassing rejection that occurred last night in Harry's car.

"Thanks, I don't know what came over me, and now I just feel stupid. But at least you can stop trying to convince me that he likes me because that has been made pretty clear."

I shake my head at my stupidity, how could I have believed for even a second that he would be into me?

My heels click along the hard floors as I wipe down the black glass top of my dining table I just ate at.  I hate seeing marks from fingerprints.

"Well," she thinks for a moment and I know she's trying to put her natural positive spin on things. "Maybe you should give Liam a chance? He's such a nice guy Lex, and he ballroom dances, did you know that?"

My face screws up at the thought, "You're kidding?" I laugh.

"No, really! So impressive! Don't you find that sexy?" she pushes.

"Mmm, not really!" I laugh and I'm absolutely positive if I could see her face right now, she would be pouting.

Our conversation is interrupted by my door buzzing. 

"Who's that?" Katie asks.

"No idea, probably just my neighbour telling me to take my heels off," I roll my eyes.

"Wait! You go to work on the weekend in your full suit and heels don't you!" she teases, laughing hard at what she knows is the truth.

"Bye Katie!" I yell before hanging up.

I pick up the intercom phone and hold it between my ear and my shoulder, as I take one of my heels off in preparation.

"Hello?" I say casually, ready for either Mrs Newman downstairs or a pizza delivery guy that has pressed the wrong floor.

"Miss Patterson!" The confident voice startles me. My eyes widen and my mouth drops open as I snap to stand upright and grip the receiver in my hand.

My heart automatically starts pounding at the sound of his raspy tone and I feel like I can already hear the smirk on his lips. 

Oh god.

"It's the big bad wolf, let me in!" Harry jokes.

I want so badly to pretend not to know who it is, play it a little coy, like I have dozens of friends coming to my door all the time, but I'm so freaked out all I can do is fumble through an, "um, hey, um, yep, 'kay."

I shove my shoe back on my foot so fast I nearly fall over, before I dart right then left like a frantic lunatic, not knowing what the fuck to do but completely unprepared for this impromptu visit.

What would Katie tell me to do? I briefly wonder if I have time to call her back, but instead, I make the quick decision that I should change my outfit, bolting down the hallway to the main bedroom but am stopped in my tracks, skidding to a halt by his two sharp knocks at the door.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I'm flustered and probably red in the face from the sudden burst of adrenaline shooting through my body as I run back and forth down the hallway like a mad woman.  Torn by the obligation to answer the knocking at the door but begging the universe to give me an extra two minutes for me to get my shit together. 

I huff theatrically at myself. Since when do I get this flustered and what is he doing here? Maybe I left something in his car?

I take the last couple of seconds to smooth down my white shirt and hastily comb my hair back with my fingers before swinging open the door to find an amused look on one of the most handsome faces I've ever seen in real life.

The entertained look on his face, that was probably caused by him hearing my heels running from one end of the apartment to the other, is quickly replaced by a mocking frown, as his takes in my corporate attire, clearly something he wasn't expecting at 8.30 on a Saturday night.

"Wanna spend the night with me?" he grins.

Before I can gather any loose ends that were once thoughts, he holds his hands up to present a bottle of red wine in one and a DVD in the other, its cover is so worn out it's clearly been in heavy rotation.

"Get your mind out of the gutter AP, I mean to watch a movie," he jokes, clearly loving how uncomfortable he makes me.

He steps inside without invitation and whistles as he spins on his heel, looking around while I close the door behind him, silently mortified he, or anyone for that matter, is in my home.

"Nice place," he praises as he unapologetically scans his eyes over everything he can.

"Um, thanks, sorry about the mess," I say instinctively my fingers twirling the ends of my hair and his eyebrows shoot up as his head snaps back to meet me.

"You're kidding right?" he chuckles and I shrug, embarrassed and completely out of my comfort zone.

Harry puts the bottle of wine down on the glass table and swivels on his tan suede boots to face me. 

A black sweatshirt envelopes his upper body and the sleeves are pushed effortlessly up to below the elbow, his ripped black jeans tight on his thighs and his rings covering almost every finger.

He's so sure of himself that it's enviable, confidence radiates from him in both a cocky and authentic way and I'm sure that he would look just as comfortable in a paper bag or with nothing on at all. 

I will away my thoughts of him naked as he tucks a fluffy curl behind his ear and rolls his lips into his mouth before his perfect pink tongue pokes out to wet them.  This action alone might be the death of me.

"You got a court date later?" he teases, gesturing towards my grey suit pants with his chin. 

"Mmm, no, I- I've been in the office."

I look down at my black high heeled pumps as I feel the blush crawl across my face, embarrassed when I remember him asking me what I wear on the weekend and wishing the floor would open up and swallow me.

He nods his head just once, not prying any further as he takes a step towards me, our bodies unnecessarily close and if it was anyone else I would have backed up to gain a little more personal space.

I almost expect him to apologise for not coming in last night, or make up some other excuse to be here, but he offers no explanation.

"I brought a classic," he states holding up the tattered DVD case of a '90s cult film that everyone always references but I have somehow, never seen.

I shrug a little as I play with my fingers, not wanting to admit I have no idea what it's about, but as my chin points towards the floor he grabs it between his thumb and finger, pulling my gaze gently back up to his.

My heart pounds involuntarily in my chest and I hold my breath as he bends his knees in order for our eyes to be level.

"No fucking way," he states in disbelief, taking me by surprise.  "You've never seen it, have you?" His eyes squint as if he is interrogating me for a crime I've been accused of committing.

His touch is making my skin tingle and his lips are so close if I leaned forward I could easily kiss them.  I can see the dark speckles of emerald in his eyes at this proximity and the need to tell him how pretty they are, nearly escapes.

"Um, I can't remember," I lie and when he cackles into the air, I try not to pout from the distance he puts back between us as his hand leaves my face.

"How is that possible?" he laughs. "Everyone has seen this movie, Lexi!  Most peoples reactions are either like, 'fuck, yeah,' or, 'no, not again!'"

Most people? How often does he do this?

"Alright, Patterson, prepare to be enlightened. Please, tell me you have a DVD player?" he begs cracking open the case and walking towards the lounge, me in tow like a little lost puppy.

"Yeah, I do over there," I point to the entertainment system that is so elaborate it looks like I throw extravagant parties every night of the week and I'm all of a sudden aware that he has made the correct assumption that I have no other plans for my Saturday night.

"Perfect," he says to himself, making his way over to where I indicated but stopping suddenly to point a finger out at me.

"Wait, I have one condition," he says, wanting me to take the bait, which of course I do. "You have to change your fucking clothes.  I feel uncomfortable for you!"

He shoves the disk into the player as I mumble something about just getting home and of course needing to change.

The obsessively, meticulous part of me cringes as he kicks off his boots and leaps onto my white, fabric couch, his arms already folded under his head as if he has been here a million times. 

"Oh god," I exhale without thinking, as I hold myself back from taking away the cushion from underneath his feet.

"Don't tell me you don't actually sit on your couches," he mocks. "Hurry up, Princess!" 

I turn quickly down the hall, telling myself not to be irrational and that he is right, of course couches are made to be sat on.

Closing the bedroom door behind me, I'm actually grateful for a few quiet moments alone to gather my resolve.

Questions flicker through my mind: What is he doing here? Why wouldn't he text me first? What are we going to talk about? And most importantly, what the fuck am I going to wear?

I open my closet doors and find more of the exact same things I am already wearing.  My fingers flick aimlessly through shirts and jackets, matching trousers and pencil skirts, and I groan as I pull out the odd cashmere sweater or silk tank.  I very rarely need casual clothes and besides pyjamas and clothes I clean the house in, I have next to nothing.

"Shit," I whisper to myself as I tear off my clothes and absentmindedly pull on a pair of black jeans I wear occasionally.

I gasp as an idea strikes and I drag across the armchair that sits in the corner of my room, standing on it so that I can see the boxes I have stored away on the top shelf of the wardrobe.

"Yes," I hiss quietly as I find the soft grey material I was looking for and shake it out a little before holding it up to my nose to check it doesn't smell from lack of use.

I used to live in my university sweatshirt and even though it wasn't that long ago, I struggle to even remember what I was like back then. 

I was already working at Alan Patterson Developments, as it used to be called, but I was young and a lot more carefree.  I loved going to work but I also had friends and was social, the world at my feet and my head in the clouds. 

I shake the memories from my mind, telling myself I was immature and unfocused, as pull the sweatshirt on before running back out to find Harry, remote in hand, ready to press play.

"Much better!" He praises and I can't help the ridiculous grin that creeps up my cheeks.

A/N:

Please hit the star if you want/can/love it/hate it but wanna treat people with kindness

Love Ruby

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