Bad Enough For You

Harry was crazy. Rowan knew for certain.

After the lunch incident, Harry had come to the café at least three, if not more, times a week looking for Rowan. It was driving the poor girl insane. Why he had taken such a strong interest in her so suddenly, she wasn't sure. Sure, he was gorgeous, but Rowan knew better. Guys like Harry only want one thing, and that's all. And she would not be a victim of that sort of scandal again.

But as the chime to the cafés entry rung away, she started to doubt herself.

Harry's lean, muscular form was adorned with a dark gray cardigan with a low, white v neck; showing off a few of his tattoos. His legs were covered with a nicely fitted pair of black jeans, and a pair of black low-riders were on his feet. That ever-present smirk that seemed to be permanently etched into his face grew as he saw Rowan at the counter.

"Hello, love. What a surprise to see you here! How're you?" Harry asked Rowan as he leaned onto the counter.

Rowan sighed, "I work here, Harry. You know that."

Harry just shrugged and ordered a small coffee, black, with a blueberry muffin on the side.

Rowan handed him his order along with his change and expected him to leave after that, but he took a seat right at the counter in front of Rowan.

Rowan shook her head, "What do you want, Harry?"

"You know what I want, love. And I'll see to it that I'll get it by the end of your shift." Harry said with a wink.

Rowan knew what the 'it' was referring to. Her number. Rowan was at war with herself. Rowan didn't want to give Harry her number. Rowan didn't want to like Harry. Rowan didn't want to get hurt again. But the uneasy feeling in her stomach whenever Harry smiled at her told Rowan differently. His green eyes made her melt, the way that they lit up. And his dimples. Well, they were to die for.

Rowan sighed, "Harry, why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Harry replied.

"You know perfectly well, what. This. Coming to my job all the time. Hitting on me. Asking for my number. Why?" Rowan questioned.

Harry took a sip of his coffee and shrugged again, "Because I like you, Rowan. And I think you could like me, too."

Rowan didn't know how to respond. He likes me? Why? She thought to herself. There was nothing special about her. Her hair was always out of place, and her make-up was almost always poorly done, and she was insecure as hell. Why would this Angle-like man want anything to do with her? And what was that last thing he said, " And I think you could like me, too." That was the problem. Rowan already liked Harry, whether she wanted to admit it or not. But Rowan stopped and thought to herself.

Maybe this time...This time will be different. Harry will be different. Harry is different. Maybe this could work. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

And that's when Rowan took a deep breath, grabbed Harry's napkin and wrote down her number. Harry had a giant grin on his face the entire time.



Harry walked into his flat with that same giant grin still plastered onto his face. He took his phone out of his back pocket and dialed Louis' number.

"Ey, mate. What's going on?" Louis said when he picked up.

Harry looked at the napkin, which had Rowan's number neatly written onto it, and he chuckled, "I did it, man. Step one is complete."