Le Chat Noir

“Of course I didn’t forget, Louis, calm the fuck down,” Harry whispered harshly, fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m not—Jesus fucking Christ, mate, can I get a word in?”

My eyelids fluttered open and I let out a yawn. My neck was sore and so were my knees, which I’d hooked over the arm of the chair. The goal had been not to fall asleep, but I’d ended up doing so despite drinking a cup of coffee. I flicked my gaze to Harry, who was on his feet and striding into the kitchen, muttering into his mobile. I glanced at my watch, surprised to see that we’d slept past noon.

Letting out another yawn, I stood and checked to see that Harry’s car was still across the street before going into my room. With the door safely shut, I stripped down to my knickers and pulled on a pair of shorts from the floor of my closet and a clean black tank top. I tugged my hair into a bun atop my head and plugged in my phone, then went out to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee.

Harry was slouched next to the refrigerator, now angrily tapping out a text on his mobile. He glanced up when I came in, his face softening, and tucked his mobile into the pocket of his jeans. “Hi,” he said, straightening as I drew nearer. But I simply reached behind him, aiming for the canister of ground coffee that I’d left on the counter some time earlier.

“Afternoon,” I replied, throwing out the old filter and putting a new one into the machine. “Coffee?”

“Cheers,” Harry said with a nod. He watched me put spoonfuls of ground coffee into the filter and shut the lid, then press the button that started the machine.

I stepped around Harry and surveyed the contents of the fridge, but I already knew that there wasn’t much in the way of food. I’d meant to go shopping after my shift at Beigel, which was supposed to end an hour from now. But as I was missing today’s shift, my schedule was thrown off track. I had to be at The Black Cat at four, which was only a few hours from now.

“Sorry, all I’ve got is bagels and jam,” I said, bringing out my Mum’s blackberry jam and pointing to the bag of bagels (which I never seemed to run out of, being employed at a bagel shop) that were next to the coffee machine. “I was supposed to do shopping after my shift, but I obviously didn’t go in this morning.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “You’ve got work?”

I remembered how I’d stopped myself from ranting to Harry about having two jobs, and took in a breath. “Right. Yeah, I work at a bagel shop most mornings.”

“When do you sleep?”

“Between the hours of three and six, and sometimes from two to four.”

Harry raked a hand through his unruly hair, his breath whistling out through his lips. “Christ, I didn’t realize. Did I make you miss work?”

“S’alright. I called first.”

“I’m sorry anyway,” he said, and looked as though he was going to reach out for me, then decided against it. “I guess I have to thank you for this. Letting me stay, I mean.”

“It’s at the risk of your car being stolen, just so you know. I made the executive decision to bring you inside, instead of leaving you on the side of the road somewhere.”

Harry cracked a smile. “Why would somebody steal my car?”

“Because this is Brixton, and you drive a rather nice Range Rover.”

“We’re in Brixton?” Harry shuffled over until he could see through the doorway to the living room, his eyes taking in the sight through the windows. “This is the opposite end of the city from my house.”

“Yeah, well you sleep like the dead. I couldn’t ask you for directions, so I brought you to mine.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. This whole thing ended up working in my favour. Because you wouldn’t wake up, I didn’t have to find my way here at three in the morning.”

Harry frowned. “I would’ve made you stay.”

The way he’d said it startled me. Not just the certainty in his voice, but his choice of words. Instead of merely letting me stay, Harry seemed to think I’d have no choice in the matter.

“I wouldn’t have let you,” I replied quickly. Because the confused expression on his face made me shiver, I took my chance to escape and went for the mug that still sat on the floor next to the armchair.

But when I turned around Harry was standing right there. My nose was inches from his throat, and when I tried to take a step back the backs of my knees collided with the armchair.

“Would you say that we’re mates, Zola?” Harry asked, not at all bothered by our proximity. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it by the way his eyes glinted in spite of his serious expression.

“I’ve only known you for a week.”

“And in that week, you’ve come to know all there is to know about me and last night you brought my drunk person to your flat, because you didn’t want me spending the night in my car.”

“I think that being mates constitutes a mutual knowledge of each other’s livelihood,” I replied uneasily. I’d broken two of my most important rules as a barmaid with Harry already, having both flirted with him on more than one occasion and then let him into my flat, and I wasn’t going to let another rule be broken to if I had anything to say about it.

No, I wouldn’t be mates with Harry Styles. He was a nice bloke and a customer, but that was it.

“And you refuse to tell me anything about yourself,” Harry concluded. “Why?”

“Because I like to keep my personal and professional lives separate.”

Harry stared at me. “You consider me part of your professional life?”

“Well yeah, since you come into the pub and I serve you drinks,” I said, finally stepping around him. Harry was on my heels all the way into the kitchen, apparently not willing to drop the subject of our friendship.

“If I asked you to lunch, would you say no?”

I was a very patient, collected person. It came with the job title, I suppose. But Harry had a way of throwing me completely off my game with a look. And normally I would’ve despised this quality, because I hated being off my game, but I actually kind of liked our interactions. I never knew what was going to happen next, even when I attempted to read him. And the unknown fascinated me.

So when I finished pouring my coffee, I turned around and leaned against the counter and peered up at Harry over the rim of my mug. I took a tentative sip, testing the heat, but also knowing in the back of my mind that Harry was waiting for my answer.

“It would depend on when you asked,” I replied at last, after mulling over his question.

Harry rolled his eyes. He was far less patient than I was. “Now. I’m asking you now, because it’s lunchtime and you haven’t got anything to eat.”

“I have bagels.”

“Do you want to have lunch with me or not?” Harry asked, exasperated.

“Yeah,” I said. I wasn’t really in the mood for bagels anyway. Harry smiled, dimples and all. “Harry?”

“Mmm?” he hummed, his eyes not having left my face for the last few minutes. He’d traced every angle by now, but he kept on staring anyway.

“That phone call earlier…are you supposed to be somewhere?”

Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s a thing tonight, a sort of party. I was supposed to help get things ready, but everything is fine now. I don’t have to be anywhere.”

“I thought you were the type of guy who didn’t let down his mates.”

Harry frowned at me. “I tried to establish that you’re my mate, Zola, but you rejected the idea. As I haven’t, I think that treating you to lunch counts as making up for the fact that you let me crash on your couch.”

As I’d tried to explain earlier, Harry was never supposed to enter this side of my life. But now that he said it aloud, our situation stopped being professional the second I decided to turn the Range Rover around and drive all the way to Brixton. Because as hard as it was for me to accept, now that he was here and we were getting lunch, we were kind of mates.

Fifteen minutes later, when we’d both downed cups of coffee, Harry led the way out of the building and across the street to his car. I hadn’t bothered to ask where we were going, but when we crossed over the Thames I started to get suspicious. If he was planning on taking me to some posh French bistro, there was no way I was going for it.

“Can’t we just get, like, kebabs or something?”

Harry quirked an eyebrow, smirking. “Are you afraid I’m taking you somewhere fancy?”

“A bit,” I admitted.

“Well I’m not, so you can stop worrying. I smell like a combination of lager and lilacs, so there’s really no getting into somewhere with food over twenty quid.”

“Lilacs?” I questioned, wondering how he knew.

We came to a red light, and Harry grinned over at me. “Your perfume. The entire flat smells of it. After a night on your couch, so do I.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I don’t much enjoy smelling like a girl, Zola,” Harry replied, his tone suggesting that this was the worst possible thing he could be undergoing. While he drove he kept on checking his phone, as if waiting for a message. “Which is why we’re getting kebabs.”

Harry parked right outside a kebab shop and we went inside. I inhaled the smell of spices and grinned, looking forward to this more than I probably should have. Harry was headed right for a particular booth, and I guess I shouldn’t have been that surprised to find that we weren’t here alone. When I spotted Nick Grimshaw’s quiff and lanky frame tucked into the corner booth, I felt a pang of disappointment that Harry wasn’t doing all of this just for me.

“It’s the barmaid!” Grimmy exclaimed as I slid in across from him. I was expecting Harry to sit with Grimmy, but he sat down on my side, scooting over until our elbows bumped. Harry smiled to himself and straightened his arms, then slid over a bit more so that we connected from hip to knee.

“Zola,” I corrected Grimmy, my voice distant. I was far to focused on the fact that Harry was sitting way closer than was considered normal, and that he was doing it on purpose. The majority of our interactions had been from either side of a bar, with only our eyes keeping us connected. But whenever that bar was removed, I realized that Harry never stood more than two feet away from me. In most of those circumstances, our chests had nearly been touching. Or, rather, my nose and his chest.

“Zola,” Grimmy repeated, testing out the word. “Zola, Zola, Zola. Bit of a weird name, innit?”

“You can call me Zo if you prefer,” I said. “Most people do.”

At this, Grimmy gave Harry a knowing smile. “Except for dear old Styles here. Whenever he mentions you, which is an awful lot I might add, it’s always Zola. You do have a dreadful drawl when you say her name, mate.”

Harry scowled at his friend. “Don’t make me regret inviting you.”

“You probably will after this. When you sat down I got a very powerful waft of something delicious, but definitely not your usual scent. Now then, did you two have a fun romp?” Grimmy leaned forward, eager to hear any and all information.

“You’re even worse sober,” I said, stopping Harry from replying with a few choice words. I could practically see the gears working in his head, deciding on how murder Grimmy. “Do you honestly think I’d have so little dignity that I’d shag this one?”

I jerked a thumb at Harry. Grimmy seemed even more excited with this development. He turned on Harry, grinning. “Well this is an interesting plot twist. You haven’t shut up about her all week and she doesn’t give a rat’s arse about you.”

“Don’t dig your grave too deep, mate,” I warned, eyeing the vicious look in Harry’s eyes. “I thought we came here for kebabs. So I want a bloody kebab. Harry, would you please?”

Harry shot another glare at Grimmy before sliding out of the booth and heading for the counter. I fixed my gaze on Grimmy, wondering why he had absolutely zero tact. I mean, really, you could go about all of this in a far more subtle fashion that wouldn’t include having your best mate stick you on one of them vertical broiler things for the donair meat.

“Why are you so intent on making him furious?” I asked.

“Because he’s being a complete knobhead,” Grimmy replied. “I told him after that first night, I was totally pissed mind you, but I still told him he shouldn’t waste his time with you. Ever since I started coming to The Black Cat I knew you were that girl who doesn’t have time for a boyfriend, and that Harry would fall for you in an instant. I got him to come anyway, which was probably not the best idea, in retrospect,” Grimmy mulled over this particular oversight, tapping his finger on his chin.

“Hang on, you think Harry fancies me?” I asked, astounded. I stared at Harry standing at the counter, taking in his terrible posture and chaotic hair. I’d just figured he was a nice bloke who wanted to be mates.

“Did you completely miss the part where he cozied up to you over there, despite having plenty of room?” Grimmy asked, raising his eyebrows. “Honestly, love, it’s rather obvious. Harry’s terrible at hiding his emotions, particularly when he’s hungover and too tired to notice that he’s being transparent.”

Harry returned with three plates, setting one in front of each of us and then sitting down. He slid right up next to me like before, either not noticing or not caring about the fact that his elbow was about to hit me in the face while he ate his kebab. I looked at Grimmy, who was far too pleased with himself, and frowned.

When Grimmy finally stopped making quips about Harry’s infatuation with me, it took about five minutes for Harry to forgive him. Of course, that was by the time we were leaving the kebab place, and suddenly I was on the wrong side of the Thames and I still hadn’t done the shopping or taken a shower.

“I guess this is where I say goodbye. Thanks for the kebab,” I said, taking a step back from them.

“You’re leaving?” Harry asked.

“Things to do, food to buy,” I said taking another step. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Harry calmed down a bit. “Yeah, alright. See you.”

As I made my way to the nearest Tube station, I convinced myself that maybe I wouldn’t see Harry. He had to be a busy bloke, being in a band and all that, so maybe he’d stop coming round to The Black Cat eventually. Then I could forget about this entire week, and he’d get out of my head.