"If you judge people, you have no time to love them." — Mother Teresa


The scowls, and scrutinizing glares I received from Harry's neighbors had me awkwardly shuffling on my feet as I patiently waited for him to unlock the front door. They probably think I'm one of “those girls” he occasionally brings home. I couldn't help but slightly frown at the unpleasant thought of how many other women had the luxury of seeing his home, but I forced a smile once he graciously opened the door, allowing me to walk in first. Harry gave me a grand tour of his condominium before guiding me toward what I presumed to be the kitchen.


The space was a lot bigger than I expected it to be but easy to work around which I liked. Tools and other utensils were neatly organized in the drawers as were the dishes, and all the can goods were scattered throughout the pantry. Green eyes didn’t leave the room without showing me where to find the necessary ingredients for the pizza, and then everything else was up to me. Harry, for reasons unknown, wanted to eat a bell pepper and spinach pizza for dinner, and I promised to make it for him. Making a pizza looked fairly simple on those cooking shows that I'd often watch on tv, but I honestly had no clue where to begin so I turned on my phone for help. He never said using electronics was against the rules.

I found that the doe rolling part was the easiest, so I thought, until a certain someone came back into the kitchen just to inform me that I wasn't doing it right. God, Harry was so picky. Cooking for him would be harder than I thought.

"You have to ground your fingers into the edges to keep the shape," Harry told me with a demonstration.


When did rolling bread become this complicated?


"How do you know all of this?" I raised an eyebrow, intently observing the pressure he was applying to the ends. Harry pressed his fingertips into the doe and made crease marks to round out the edges, contrary to what I was doing before.

"I had a job at a bakery once,” he casually replied while coming to a stop, “but I trust that you'll be able to roll it on your own now,"

I nodded reassuringly and resumed working on the doe, slightly smiling at the idea of Harry in an apron. I should call him bakery boy. The awkward silence that came afterward was my confirmation of Harry's absence in the room so I felt free to openly express myself again, rolling my shoulders back in a sigh. "I was doing just fine on my own before he dropped in," I murmured to myself.

"What did you say?" I heard him ask.


How the bloody hell did he hear that?


"O-Oh, nothing. Hehe, um, I was just admitting how much of a mess I was until you dropped in," I croaked.

"Weird, I thought you said something else. I'll come back to check on you later, love." Harry winked at me on his way out the kitchen door. I made sure to actually watch him leave this time before going back to work.

---

"No, no, no. You're supposed to season the sauce before spreading it over the doe!" Harry frowned, face palming himself. I thought I could just sprinkle the season over the sauce before adding the cheese. Guess not.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Well that's just great. Now the pizza's ruined."

"Are you sure I can't just add some more sauce over the—"

"‒No, you can't. It doesn't work that way, love. You don't know the first thing about cooking, do you?"

"You know what I do know? I know that I'm not gonna stand here and let you judge me for one small mistake. I said I was sorry Harry. Way to make a person feel bad," I crossed my arms, turning to face the door. I swear. He can be a real asshole sometimes. I should just go. I guess he sensed that I was thinking of leaving because the next thing he did caught me off guard.

"Lucy, wait." Harry said while taking my shoulder into his large hand. I hesitantly looked his way, not anticipating his protest, and swallowed the lump in my throat. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I only wanted to win the bet, and I did," He smirked.

He always finds the perfect way to ruin the moment. I would've been fine with just the apology, but no. He had to open that stupid mouth of his. When is he going to learn that it's not okay to make people feel like shit for your own personal gain?

I scoffed, "Goodbye, Harry." I shrugged off his touch and stormed out the kitchen door.

To no surprise Harry followed me into the living room and roughly yanked me by the arm, preventing any sort of escape. My breathing hitched in my throat as I stifled a groan, pain shooting up my forearm. I didn't like this side of him. I demanded that he let me go more than once and gave him a little shove but to no avail. His body wouldn't budge. He was just too strong, and I was desperate to leave before the situation ended incorrigibly.

"W-what do you want from me, Harry?" I asked shakily, fear written all over my face.

His features suddenly softened, but the grip he had on my arm remained taut, knowing if he let me go, I'd leave. "Please, don't go Lucy. I'm really sorry about everything. The bet is off, and you don't have to worry about giving me a massage, and I can help you finish that pizza. Just don't leave like this," He pleaded.

I shook my head, "No, Harry. You don't get to magically fix everything by saying sorry, and you can finish cooking that goddamn pizza by yourself. I want to go home!" I spat.

"It's late. At least let me drive you," He insisted.

"I'd rather you not." I said harshly.

"Alright..." Harry surrendered, releasing my arm, "if that's how you feel, you can let yourself out. I couldn't care less what happens to you." He snorted.

I barely recognized the cold voice of the man in front of me, but I nodded along to his words before walking toward the door, each step as painful as the next. Maybe its better this way; I don't think we're cut out to be friends. I glanced back at Harry one last time, regret filling his eyes, before finally shutting the door and walking to the elevators. I pressed the down button on the panel and wiped away the tear that managed to stray from my blurry eyes. I didn't understand why his words hurt so much.

I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit that a part of me always feels on edge when I'm around Harry. It's like I have to watch his every move in order to ensure nothing sexual happens between us, and that frightens me. And in some ways, Harry frightens me too, like he did just a minute ago. I know he's trouble, yet I can't deny the fact that I'm physically attracted to him. But he's wrong for me. A gorgeous man like Harry gets everything he wants, but one thing is for sure. I cannot let him get to me.

Notes

It's finally here. Sorry for not posting it yesterday. I wanted to edit it one last time. May this gif be my apology to you. <3

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