The TV is on, a hum of background noise necessary in the plight to not go completely insane with thoughts of cross tattoos and floral suits.

I got home hours ago but I've been taking my time, having a long shower, blowdrying my hair, carefully preparing an indulgent meal. Deliberately trying to slow down and relax.

Something I've never been good at.

I'm grinding salt and pepper into the beef ragu pasta sauce that has been simmering away when the doorbell chimes and sends my body into a frenzy.

"Hello?" I pick up the phone and twirl the ends of my hair nervously, awaiting with equal parts hope and apprehension that the person on the other end is he of both my dreams and nightmares.

"Already home from work! You getting slack without me?" Harry's voice sends an electric shock through my nervous system.

"Oh, look who's back from the dead," I decide to bite back, smacking my forehead at my attitude but his hearty laugh warms me from the outside in.

"You gonna let me in or you have better plans for your Friday?"

I don't bother responding to the smart-arse question he already knows the answer to, instead hitting the unlock button and hanging up.

I look down at my red, tartan pyjama pants and my favourite white cashmere knit and close my eyes briefly, wondering why I just don't do myself any favours. For a second I wish I was one of those girls who lounges around the house in a silk robe or tiny sporty shorts and knee high socks.

Flicking the lock on the door open, I shake my head and remember that this attraction is predominantly in my mind and there's no use pretending I'm something that I'm clearly not.

"It's open!" I yell from the kitchen when I hear the two sharp knocks on the door and I grip the counter top as I pray for a little strength and poise when I finally see him.

"I go away for three weeks and she doesn't even bother greeting me at the door anymore!" I hear Harry's gravelly voice boom through the apartment, amusement in his tone as I look up from the open plan kitchen to see him standing by the lounge.

Three weeks is far too long to go without the sight of his heart-stoppingly gorgeous face. 

His arms are out by his sides in jest, questioning my behaviour and I can't help the smile that creeps across my face, a refection of his own.

"Well, to be fair, you said it would be two," I rebut as he strides towards me, my hands dropping the wooden spoon back into the saucepan as he bends his knees and scoops me into a warm embrace.

"Something came up," he mumbles without apology or reason into my shoulder and I wish I could freeze time and stay here forever.

"When did you get back?" I ask, my arms still wrapped around his neck.

"About an hour ago," he confesses and my heart leaps with false hope. "Mmm, you're so cosy in these clothes," he mumbles and I'm relieved he can't see the embarrassment on my face.

I try not to mope as his attention is distracted and he places my feet back down on the floor with a sharp inhale, which already sounds like it's mocking me.

"What's all this red stuff? Where's the lettuce?" he jokes, stirring the sauce in the pan and I elbow his ribs gently, his boyish cackle ringing in my ears as I take back the utensil.

"Piss off, I was having a perfectly pleasant night without your ridicule," I half joke, knowing deep down my mind was full of him before he arrived anyway.

Raising the spoon I swipe my finger across to collect a dollop of the heavy sauce to taste but Harry has other plans.

Standing beside me, he grabs my wrist and I don't process the reaction in time to understand his intentions.

He sucks the tip of my finger into his mouth, his eye contact boring holes into my own and I lose my breath at the intimacy that has suddenly blanketed the kitchen.

His tongue is warm and soft, thoughts of how it would taste, and the wicked things he could do with it, flash through my mind and, as it swipes across my skin, I feel my whole body shiver and core clench simultaneously.

"Mmm," he hums as he pops my finger from his naturally pouted lips. "Delicious."

My mouth is hanging open and it's only when I register his smirk that I realise I'm standing completely dumbfounded and unresponsive.

Immediately turning back around to face the stove, I try to gain distance from the man claiming my senses one by one.

"Enough for me?" His voices rumbles through me as his chin rests on my shoulder and his arms wrap around my waist.

"Maybe, if you say please?" I try and regain control of whatever the hell this situation is that I've found myself in.

"Please, baby," his whines and coils his arms tighter, humour lacing his voice.

"I see right through you, Styles," I accuse gently, spinning around so he has to step back and I scold with the spoon in his direction.

"What?" he laughs knowingly and I'm grateful that the tension that's easing.

"Only 'Miss. White Couch' would eat spaghetti in a white sweater," he teases, pinching the fabric and pulling it from my stomach.

I roll my eyes at his jab, taking in his perfectly dishevelled black and red knit that probably cost more than most people's rent and signature tight, black jeans that fill my brain in every waking moment... and every sleeping moment.

I check the spaghetti boiling in the pot next to the sauce, grateful for once that I'm a novice in the kitchen and always accidentally cook three times more pasta than I actually need.

"Here, let me do that," Harry jumps in as I attempt to drain the heavy pot and I frown with an amused smile on my face as I take in the fact we are somehow cooking together.

I heap the food into two bowls and he grins fondly as I hand him one of them with an exhaled laugh.

"I missed you," he says seriously as we walk to the dining table.

"Liar," I smirk at him.

"Honestly!" he chuckles, taking a seat opposite me. "I missed you rolling your eyes and giving me shit about my clothes and you asking me a million question," he grins as he shoves food in his mouth.

I'm breathless, completely captivated by his green eyes rolling back into his head, his sharp jaw tilted upward and his face falling in pleasure as he groans loudly at the taste.

My heart pounds hard in my chest as I commit the sound to memory before using the best defence I have against his ability to unknowingly disarm me; hostility.

"Yeah, a million questions and you've given me the number of answers I can count on one hand."

"Okay, shoot," he offers as he thoughtfully chews and I briefly wonder if food is the key to unlocking this mystery of a man.

"Why did you tell me to be careful?"

He looks confused, "I never said that, Lex, I said be good! It's an expression! God, have you been thinking all this time that something is going to jump out at you?" he teases and I feel like a downright idiot for taking everything he says so literally.

"What were you in New York for?" I try again, ignoring his taunting and I know he's not going to give me anything when he casually shrugs.

"Work, I told you that, didn't I? The company sent me to meet with some potential development clients."

I can't accuse him of lying when he makes it sound so believable and for a moment I feel ridiculous for thinking he's over there meeting with heads of a drug syndicate.

I twist the ends of my hair and he smiles at my pensiveness.

"Don't worry AP, you're still my favourite Development Manager," he jokes.

I'm trying desperately not to stare at his cherry mouth, which is redder with every bite he takes, his tongue darting out to lap up every speckle of sauce his lips collect along the way and the almost comical way he sticks it out past his teeth to meet each forkful.

When I catch myself memorising every detail about the way Harry eats and being magically charmed by it for no apparent reason, then I know.

I'm completely enamoured.

"Tell me about your ex-girlfriend," I snap unexpectedly, my little epiphany unsettling me, fear bubbling up and boiling over into inappropriate jealously of whoever the woman was that held his heart.

Harry raises his eyebrows, just as surprised by my line of questioning as I am.

"Water?" he asks as he stands, and I nod sheepishly, wondering why the fuck I just did that as he fumbles around a couple of cupboards before finding the glasses and returning.

"You don't have to-" I start, but he waves at me in dismissal as he swallows a gulp of water before continuing.

"S'fine, Lex. Um, what is there to say really?" he begins the way he always does and I outwardly sigh at having to hear another bullshit answer.

Harry bites the inside of his lips when he sees my expression, before pushing his bowl to the side and ducking his head, as if the topic of conversation was of national importance.

He licks his lips and intertwines his fingers together as they rest on the table in front of him, his brow heavy as he considers his words.

"She was the complete opposite of you," he says seriously and my stomach drops so quickly I feel like I might actually be sick.

A/N:

He's back! 

Lots of you were wondering if this was going to be the 1.5 year absence from the prologue and I just wanted to point out that the DAY THEY MET was 1.5 years earlier, he didn't go away for that long..

That's another mystery.

ENJOY. COMMENT. VOTE

Love Ruby

x