I'm wearing Harrys shirt. I'm standing in Frankie's kitchen with my arms folded, glaring at the son of a bitch that 'accidently' tipped half a bottle of water over my uniform when I came in here to get a drink after I left the sun room, to which he subsequently followed like a buzzing fly that won't fuck off. Harry is leant with his arm above his head against the fridge, holding one side of the doors open with his free hand, observing it's contents. I glance at the knife block on the counter. Maybe I'll 'accidently' trip and shove a butchers knife up your ass, smirky. I still can't believe he fucking did that to me! Harry notices me out of his peripheral vision, standing on the other side of the kitchen island, after coming out of the bathroom to get changed. He smirks to himself, but continues to stare in the fridge "What were you saying about not wearing my shirt again love?" Keep smirking dickhead, I'm going to be using it to pick up Gizmos shit tomorrow morning. I don't say anything, just stand there imagining I have eye lasers and I'm currently using them to melt that smug head of his. His smirk only deepens at my hostile silence, before he purses his lips thoughtfully, drumming his fingers against the fridge door "Would you like a drink? I'm just grabbing a water - I spilt mine" I still ignore him, calculating in my head how many of those late night crime shows I'll have to watch to figure out how to effectively hide his dead body. Now he grins, at my lack of response, reaching in to grab a new bottle of water, before nudging the door closed with his elbow and leaning his shoulder against it lazily while he stares at me; opening the water with a raise of his brows. "Let me guess - now you're a mute? Or maybe you're suddenly deaf now? Can't wait for the next miracle when that magically gets cured too" he says bringing the bottle to his lips, slowly wrapping them around the rim of the bottle, his lips tightening as they quirk at the corners while he takes a sip of his water. Choke on it, ass hat. He gulps his mouthful of water down, bringing the bottle of water away, wetting his lips and reattaching the lid, eyeing me with a cheeky glint in those eyes that spell nothing but trouble. "Not wearing a bra under a thin white shirt, someone's naughty" he muses, focusing his eyes on my chest that my arms are folded underneath of; my eyes snapping wide as I quickly cover my arms over my chest, frowning at him in offence. I'd have a bra on if it wasn't currently sopping wet thanks to you, you insufferable twat. "Mmmm" he hums with an exaggerated pondering expression, lifting his chin "So you aren't deaf, good to know" I still stay dead silent, my whole demeanour defensive and abrasive, and I could scream at how he's staring at me like I'm a grumpy puppy. "You just going to give me the silent treatment all night then?" he asks, twisting the water bottle in his hands, pushing off the fridge and placing the bottle on the kitchen island as he walks towards me casually "Mute is the option you're going with?" I narrow my eyes at him, pressing my lips together in a stubborn expression which only seems to encourage the devious look on his face as he rounds the counter to stand in front of me. My brows furrow in confusion when he brings his hands up, tracing his finger tips up the tops of my arms to my shoulders, moving them over my collar bones until his hands cup around the sides of my neck; his thumbs resting against my jaw. The fuck does this idiot think he's doing? His eyes dart between my own, dragging his tongue over his rosy lower lip, just before sinking his teeth into it. My lungs freeze when he flicks his eyes to my lips; only to focus on my eyes again as he leans forward, inching his face slowly towards mine and my heart drops into to my stomach, bouncing around in it like a rubber ball being smacked against a wall. I'm completely frozen, my whole body is rigid like I've developed a sudden case of rigor mortis until his lips hover over mine. "What - What the hell are you doing?" I stutter, my voice tight; piqued with anxiety as he keeps a hairs width of a distance between our mouths, his warm breath tickling my lips with each slow breath he exhales. His thumbs stroke against my jaw, the sweet spice from his cologne mixed with the faint smell of mint on his breath, clouding my senses while his lips quirk and his soft voice drawls out in feigned wonder. "It's a miracle, looks like you're not a mute either" My face drops as he pulls away, dropping his hands down to his sides with a triumphant smile. "Were you... Were you seriously going to try and fucking kiss me just then?" I blurt in disbelief, feeling like I have whiplash from the unexpected action. My heart is still trying to regulate and my skin feels like its prickling with anxious static while my brain freaks the fuck out. "Maybe - Maybe not" he shrugs casually, before cocking a curious brow "Unless you want to ignore me again and we can find out" My lips part, staring at him like he's just tried to pull my teeth out with pliers, not try to kiss me; well maybe kiss me. I point to his lips, raising my brows with a warning "You keep those to yourself, understand? Bring them near me again and I'll smack them off your face" My threat seems to only intrigue him, like he finds my obvious aversion to kissing him as some kind of encouragement. That's the thing, with his type though, the ones that get whoever they want. When they find something they can't have it becomes more sought after, like finding a rare special edition collectable - it's something they feel even more compelled to have. I in no way think he wants me, I find that notion laughable, I actually don't even think he's attracted to me at all because I find the idea of anyone being attracted to me ridiculous - but I think he's attracted to filling his own ego, regardless of who it's with. You could say I'm slightly pessimistic about people's intentions, especially men. "Why are you defensive over the the idea of me kissing you? Worried you might like it?" he asks coyly, resting his palm on the counter and darting his eyes from my face to me toes, back up again in a once over he's in no way trying to be modest about. "Why I'm defensive doesn't matter, because you don't actually want to kiss me" I state, like I'm pointing out a well known fact. His brows quirk at my answer, and he gives me a quizzical look "Oh really? Why don't you tell me what I want then" "A challenge" I reply with a matter-of-fact tone. "A challenge?" he echoes, creasing his brows.