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#musician!harry
writingsfromhome · 16 days
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Dos and Don’ts of H Styles
A/N: this story was literally born out of the wifi incident happening to me. It was a weird experience lol but of course it inspired me to write a story around it. Basically you used to work for Harry as a PA and your life was hell. You bump into him in the present but before it unfolds we need to know what happened in the past.
Part 1 / 2 / 3
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I watch as Winnie types into her phone the number of the guy who’d just hit on her.
“And that’s with a y?” She looks up at him with doe eyes.
“Yea,” he falls for it. He was cute, and she worked a lot I didn’t blame her for taking who she could get. His accent also helped. “What’re you doin’ now?”
“Well,” her eyes slide to me. “Hanging with my girlfriend here.”
He nods at me and I smile, holding up the almost empty glass. “We were just about done for the night though.”
“We were?” Winnie checks in with me.
“Mhm,” I give her an encouraging nod.
Both Winnie and I were employed by musician-turned-actor Oretta Smith. Winnie was her nanny—or childcare companion as she called it, and I worked as Oretta’s executive assistant. It was full-time and demanding as hell but ever since Oretta had her first child a couple months back I’d gotten a lot more breathing room as she minimized her public life and stayed close to home.
This long weekend Oretta was staying with her in-laws and asked us to take it off. I’d already requested the weekend off knowing we were in London but being off at the same time as Winnie was impossible so we’d gone out to celebrate and let loose—9pm and only 2 drinks in, both of us had already started talking about the comfort of our beds. Until flirty dude came up to Winnie.
“What do you say?” Winnie’s new date asks her.
“Aw shucks alright,” Winnie flashes her beautiful smile and hops off the stool. I don’t even see her drop the bills onto the table as she hugs me goodbye and leaves until it’s too late. She’d covered for both of us. Well I’d get her back next time.
I finish the rest of my drink, eyes flicking to the reruns of tonight’s soccer game. This wasn’t the fanciest bar—it was quite homely compared to the ones Winnie and I often found ourselves at. But it was one I used to go to when I worked in London just over a year ago. Being back in the city, despite all the awful memories, pulled me towards the nostalgic comfort of it.
I remember the many dates with my now-ex, the random nights I’d actually get off, and drown myself in drink to forget about my awful employer. Or the birthday and milestone celebrations—especially the ones I started to miss near the end.
I consider walking the few streets over to my old flat. Coincidentally the job I’d gotten wasn’t far from home. The upside was that it made dealing with “emergency” texts from my employer a lot quicker but the downside was it grouped all the traumas I experienced in this beautiful city to a few blocks. I didn’t miss it.
I cut my memory lane rabbit-hole short and decide it was time to order an Uber and get out of here; I had an early train to catch tomorrow.
The bars on my phone flicker up and down as I open the app and continue to refresh it over and over. But my signal remains unstable.
“Stupid phone,” I mutter. I had to update my provider while I was here asap.
“‘Scuse me?” I wave down someone serving drinks. “Have you got wifi here?”
“Yep we do!” She smiles. “Name’s The Violinist and the password’s capital p….”
Her voice grows far away as my blood runs cold and I stare at the list of available wifi networks. I feel myself nod a thank you when she stops talking and she leaves taking the password with her while I’m stuck staring.
My networks:
🔗H’s iPhone
I want to duck down and run away, not spend another second around anything to do with that era of my life. But I also want to hunt him down and show him how much better I was doing after him, despite.
The second instinct wins. Kind of.
I don’t hide away. I scan the dimly lit room and try to spot the familiar head of hair but it’s on the third try that I spot him. And it’s probably because his hair is barely an inch long.
He must’ve cut it recently, I’m surprised. Him without his hair was like Harry Potter without his scar.
The feelings are instantaneous though. The loathing and the need to cry. My heart continues to race as I burn a hole into the side of his head.
He was the devil incarnate and I had thought about him for a second too long just now. And now here he was. What the fuck was a guy like him doing here?
I remember the awful times; the casually cruelty and the late nights he would make me work. His constant criticism. The way my life fell apart because of him. The way I could wring his neck with very little incentive at any given moment.
He had turned my whole life upside down. He ruined me.
Harry Styles wasn’t the sweetheart everyone painted him out to be.
And yet, a flash of a feeling, a fleeting memory I try to keep locked away pushes to the front of my mind.
“Fuck no,” I tell myself. There was no room for fondness when it came to the devil.
About 2 years ago:
I straighten out the blazer, wondering if I should be chic and roll the sleeves up a bit or just keep them down. My reflection shows a nervous mousy girl that’s trying too hard. I throw my hair into a ponytail instead and feel a more like myself. Just as the elevator doors ding open.
I’m in the penthouse suite I would be working out of for the next however long; it was my first day on the job and I was still sorting out my nervous to excited ratio.
After looking for months, I’d landed a PA gig for up-and-coming rockstar Harry Styles. It was a dream come true and everyone was ecstatic for me, most of all my boyfriend who’d helped me land the role.
My boyfriend, Grayson, was a personal trainer to a lot of big names and he’d been keeping his ear to the ground for me. We met a few years ago at the gym of course, I’d still been a student and he worked part-time at the student gym. Back then he was still working to get a better client list.
We’d clicked pretty quickly and Grayson, who was anything but shy, asked me out. Soon after he was telling me he had feelings for me and I’d felt them echo back the same. He was my biggest supporter and when I told him I wanted to take this career path seriously he’d been the first to show me what steps to take to get there.
My true dream was to become a publicist and work with celebrities, but fresh out of post-grad everyone told me I’d need to dive head first and get my hands dirty. And I’d have to do that by finding a PA role for a publicist or an industry person.
“Y/n?” My name interrupts my thoughts. It comes from a disembodied head peeking out from a doorway. “You are y/n right?”
“Yes!” I hurry over. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yes. I’m Mr. Styles’ exec assistant, I’m only here for the next,” he looks down at his watch. “Half hour perhaps? So let’s get you sorted before I head out.”
“Oh okay. Sure,” my ears ring, I was going to be alone on my first day. I didn’t even know he had an executive assistant. What was the difference between him and me? What if I screw up and this guy was part of the fallout plan? Shit. “Is Mr. Styles in?”
“Not at the moment, he’ll be in before noon. He has a few appointments this morning. Typically you’d be going with him but he left before you arrived so…next time. Make sure you get any paperwork he received from the appointments and file them in here-“ he points to a room with a filing cabinet. Like an actual cabinet. This was a tight ship. “You sound American. Are you American?”
“Yep,” I debate whether to tell him I stayed after doing my degree here but decide to keep the yapping to a minimum.
I continue following the EA—who I should get the name of, as he points out rooms and overlaps it with info about Mr. Styles’ schedule and routines. A lot of info. My brain felt like it was barely holding on.
I think about the man I was now working for, the one who came into the interview for a brief 10 minutes. Surely that laid-back guy wasn’t the anal mystery man I was getting all these instructions for.
The interview itself had gone pretty smoothly apart from the fact that I nervous-laughed a few times too many. I had gone silent when The Harry Styles had walked into the office. He’d sat beside me at the round table, slouching slightly and flashing me a reassuring smile—I had felt my shoulders dip down immediately.
“So it’s y/n right? I’m pronouncing that correctly?” He’d said in his perfectly charming accent.
“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you officially.” I had to tamp down every urge to gush over him. I was a professional. I was zen.
“So y/n,” he says my name so casually and yet I feel myself lean closer to hear him say it again. “I’ve seen a couple of you come in here for the PA role. What makes you different then?”
Think think, just be calm and think!
“Well I’m a very passionate person so I put my all into everything I do. That would include this job, and in turn you’d benefit by getting peace of mind knowing I’m tackling whatever behind the scenes items that need to get done to get you where you need to go.”
“Well said,” he says with a smile that says he knew he was very good looking. “Now trust is a big factor in this relationship.”
As he talks I forget his manager is even in this room. I’m swept up in the hazy green of his eyes.
“We’ve done the background checks and all that—right?” He looks to his manager who was interviewing me and gets a nod. “But how can you reassure me. My staff gets approached by the media daily for any info on me. What’s to say you don’t sell out.”
“I would never,” I didn’t even think of that being an option. “Confidentiality and trust is the biggest pillar of this role and I take it very seriously. You’re like, the biggest celeb of the last year but I know you’re also a person and I wouldn’t betray that. On a person level.”
“So even if you had a really bad day, say I had gotten you to do some impossible tasks. And you’re heading out head full of steam and you get approached by a reporter. £5k for an exclusive.”
I shake my head. “As tempting as it would be, professional ethics reign over any of that.”
“I believe you y/n,” his eyes flicker down to my file. “Good references. We’ll be in touch.”
Now my eyes roam around the small room I’m meant to work out of. It’s the size of 1.5 supply closets with half the walls filled with shelves and cabinets. There’s a small desk but I wasn’t sure how often I’d be sitting at it. All the PAs I’d ever connected with always complained about the amount of time you spend on your feet. That’s why I’d opted to buy myself runners when I got the job.
“Any questions—mind you I have 1 minute for them before I’m off? There’s a suit I have to sort out.” The EA turns to me when we circle back to my office/supply closet.
“Oh,” a million race through my mind. Nothing that would fit in a minute. “I um, I guess I didn’t catch your name?”
He seems surprised at that, and then he laughs. “Oh you’re a doll. This place is gonna eat you alive. I’m Riley and tip for you—don’t be so eager to please. Do your job. Do it well. But you’re not here to be liked or make friends alright?”
He laughs again when he looks at my face. He hands me an iphone and tells me it’s programmed with everything and everyone I needed, then waves goodbye leaving me in a confused spot.
I wasn’t naïve, I knew what working in this industry was like but I was could swear I’d landed a good gig with Harry Styles. And meeting the man himself in the interview had confirmed it.
Maybe Riley was just jaded by too many long hours.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Grayson: good luck on your first day babe. let me know how it goes.
I only have time to heart it when I hear the elevator open in the foyer. I rush out just for Harry to brush past me and his manager following, chattering away about something.
I follow from behind and watch as he heads to the kitchen. Riley had shown me what he laid out on the island and how I should do it going forward. And like two magnets Harry reaches for the exact bottle Riley mentioned. He downs the smoothie and then collapses onto the barstool.
“But don’t forget what she was saying about the single needing to be global. Sure your fanbase would love it but would the people who hate you have to admit it’s good.”
“I make it for my fans not for the wankers that hate me,” Harry says and his voice is rich like caramel.
“You know what we mean.” His manager suddenly turns directly to me. “Can you contact the studio and let them know to push Harry’s 1pm to 3?”
“Oh,” I didn’t even know they knew I was here. They gave no acknowledgement until now. “Of course. Um, could I just get the paperwork from this morning too? The appoint-“
“Yep,” his manager unhauls the items in his hands. The whole time Harry stares out the window. I’m handed a stack of papers and I carry them to the office.
My hands are shaking when I put them down and I feel a lump in my throat. What was wrong with me? Why was I reacting this way?
I find the studio contact in the phone Riley gave me and let them know. They’re suspicious at first but accept the reschedule. I leave the paperwork for later, figuring I might be needed now.
But the rest of the morning I’m unacknowledged save by a few requests from Harry’s manager. I spend some time looking through the calender in the phone that’s pre-programmed with Harry’s entire life. It’s packed except for this Sunday. I wonder if it was actually free or just hidden from me since it was my one day off.
“You’ve got a passport haven’t you…?” It’s the first time Harry’s spoken to me. He’s changed into a hoodie and shorts, his manager is nowhere to be seen, and I’ve just bitten into a granola bar—the first thing I’d had since my morning coffee.
“Y/n.” I try to swallow the bite whole but at the last minute push it to the side to try to answer. “Erm yeah. I haven’t got it on me though.”
“Right. Y/n. Start carrying it. I’ll need you with me on Thursday I have a morning meeting in Léon and since Riley’s going to be sorting out something for my New York trip in a couple weeks he can’t make it.”
“Yes. I will. Do you need me to prepare anything else for the trip? I’m not sure if you’ve packed or-“
“It’s just a meeting.” He cuts me off. He pulls out his phone, dismissing me.
I swallow the knot in my throat once more.
I go with Harry to the studio since his manager is meeting us there. Alone in the car with him, the silence feels stuffy.
“I never got the opportunity to say thank you by the way,” I try to open up a conversation. All he was doing was looking out the window surely I wasn’t interrupting anything.
“What?” He stares right through me.
“Um, I’m just saying thank you. For the job.”
He nods.
I stay silent for the rest of the ride.
The studio is quiet, which makes sense when I think about it but upon entering an actual room I change my mind. The noise assaults my ears and I nearly jump at the volume but my hand gripping the doorknob keeps me in place.
People swarm around Harry.
“I need my tablet and my notebook,” Harry says amidst the small chaos.
What the fucks was he talking about. “Sorry?”
“My tablet and notebook,” His face darkens and so does my mood. Nobody told me! But maybe I should’ve asked oh my god.
“I don’t have it,” I say lamely.
“Any time I’m in the studio I need those two things. You need to get me my tablet and my notebook.” He speaks like a robot.
“I-I’ll head back,” I get my bag again. “Tablet and notebook, is there anything else?”
He looks angrier than I thought. He sticks his hands in his pocket, shuffles something in his hand before handing it over. “You may as well get lunch. Keep that card on you for business costs.”
I open my mouth to ask what he might want but he turns away as soon as I take the card and I’ve already fucked up royally so I decide to wing it.
In the car I consider googling what Harry Styles ate for lunch and instead will the ever living shit out of myself not to cry.
I scroll through the phone, debating if calling Riley for help would be a mistake. Going through every app for help I realize the countless notes in the app.
Morning Routines, says one. It lists things I should do when the mornings were spent at home, in studio, abroad, in a hotel, or if I walk into a “morning-after” morning. Jeez.
Another has checklists for what to do when travelling, how-to for routine appointments I should be booking, routine people I should be calling.
Why didn’t I look at this before. Right there is one called Studio Days and in bold it says what to bring.
I was an idiot. A big fat idiot.
I try my luck and search lunch. Sure enough a note with possible lunch places in cities across the world pops up.
It was a How-to guide for Mr. Styles.
Whoever put this shit together was an angel. I owed them my life.
I decide to be proactive, sorting lunch out to be delivered to the studio while the car drops me off. I run to the room Riley had said was the home studio. Sure enough I spot the tablet and a few notebooks, I grab all 3. I also grab the charger and ignore the bag of weed chilling on the arm of the chair.
What to do when he’s too drunk / What to do for Interview Days / What to do when he won’t answer the door or the phone / Day-off checklist / Social media checklist.
The dos and don’ts go on and on as I scroll through on the ride back. This was going to be my homework and by the end of the week I was gonna be a genius.
I swipe away and check if I had missed any folders containing precious info. Just the trash.
Out of curiosity I open it and there’s only 1 sitting inside: the donts of working for Harry Styles
I open it:
-don’t let one nice day fool you into forgetting he’s an arse and your employer
-don’t expect any gratitude from a narcissist
-don’t fall for his charm
-don’t shit where you sleep. no matter how tempting
-when he pisses you off which he will, don’t mouth off. what happens next is worse than being fired. which he won’t do because he’s the devil and he will want to keep you around after treating you like shite
-don’t think he’s chill. he’s anything but. follow the checklists and the rules.
-don’t have a life. actually this is a CAN’T. YOU CAN’T HAVE A LIFE WORKING FOR THE DEVIL. LEAVE AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN UNLESS YOU HATE YOURSELF
I close the phone immediately, my heart thumping in my chest like a steady bass in the background of a song. What the hell did I get myself into.
***
It’s 8pm by the time I head back with Harry. The car is once again silent.
I had spent the day reviewing emails and the checklists, fielding calls and texts. His personal chef had texted to tell me dinner was prepared and in the oven to be re-heated so I figure that’s the last thing I’d do before I head home.
I’d eaten lunch standing while watching Harry sing background vocals to the album he was working on. It was hard to deny how intoxicating it was to see such a talented man work his magic. And it really was magical seeing how a song got put together.
That is until he’d sent me to get tea for the room and I’d nearly spilled half of it on myself getting enough back to the room. I was getting an electric kettle next.
I made a new note then: Reminders to do so you don’t get fired
The notes were my saving grace.
“My head is killing me,” Harry groans.
What to carry at all times: #4 paracetamol and #2 water
Checkmarked after going to the pharmacy while he was in the studio. I’d created an emergency makeup bag with essentials I could throw in my tote. I considered it a win today.
I hand the painkillers to him and he seems surprised. He replaces them with his phone.
“I don’t want to look at a screen for the rest of the night.”
“Okay.” I leave his phone beside me and try not to think of everything on it.
It vibrates a few minutes later and I leave it, not wanting to invade his privacy but he glances at me.
“Well?”
“Oh!” I lift it but it’s locked.
“1021.”
I type it in. “Um, Jeff wants to know if you’re still at the studio-“
“Reply to him.”
I do as I’m told.
“Um Mitch wants to know if you’re-“
“If it’s scheduling questions you can probably answer them without bothering me about it.”
I look up and he’s tipped his head back, eyes closed. Right. Of course I could.
I go through his schedule and find his studio time on Friday and relay it to Mitch. I respond to another text from someone asking if he was going to a gala in a couple months—his schedule said he was in LA so no. I wondered if I would also be in LA in a couple months. I wonder what Grayson would think.
Grayson, I’d had a short call with him a few hours ago and tried not to cry hearing his voice. It felt like home when the whole day felt so foreign.
I stare at the final text. The contact photo is the side profile of a gorgeous woman.
“Kimberly wants to know if you want um,” I feel my cheeks burn. “If you’re inviting her in tonight because she has a party she really wants you to go to.”
“I can’t be arsed for a party I feel like shite.” Harry says, eyes still closed. “Tell her to be at mine after 10.”
“Ok.” I type the words with a racing heart. I remember the morning-after checklist for this exact scenario. It wasn’t going to be weird soon I guess.
I heat up dinner for Harry while he showers and leave letting him know what time I’d be in tomorrow. He doesn’t even say goodbye.
I get home around the time I reckon Kimberly gets to Harry’s. The first thing I do when I see Grayson is shed a waterfall and he holds my exhausted body tight against him.
“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” He whispers to me in bed after a shower and sandwich—I couldn’t stomach anything more.
“I need this job Gray. It’s gotta get better.”
“I reckon but it’s a steep learning curve,” he says as he traces the curve of my nose.
“I know,” I snuggle closer to him and yawn. I don’t know what he says next as I tip into sleep.
***
If the notes app manual with the dos and donts of being Harry Styles’ PA was a physical thing, imagine me swallowing it.
Every spare second I had—which I didn’t get a lot of, I was reading that thing. My fingers searched tirelessly before every scheduled and unscheduled event. And yet, I’d fucked up so many times.
It was Saturday and I was looking forward to my day off.
He had been hot and cold all week but ever since getting back from Léon he’d been nicer and I’d actually been getting home before 8.
Maybe things were going well, despite the fact that the learning curve was like climbing mount everest.
“What’s my morning look like?” Harry asks. I was sitting at his kitchen table trying to book a dinner for him next week with a friend that was in town. A friend who also happened to be big back where I was from—I hoped to catch a glimpse of her myself.
I glance up and look back down just as quickly. After a week of seeing Harry in all sorts of undress I should be used to it, but my face still flushes. Today he stands at the table in running shorts.
“Pulling it up,” I say and scan his schedule even though I had it memorized. “You’ve got a meeting at the bank in about 40 minutes and lunch with Michael.”
“Can’t my accountant take the bank meeting?”
“She’ll be there. She’s meeting you downstairs to discuss the meeting on the ride over. You need to sign off on some stuff.”
“Stuff,” Harry repeats.
I look at him, careful to train my eyes on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at my lack of elaboration or just teasing me.
“Documents.” I correct, still unable to tell.
He look amused. “Great. Documents. I thought I’d be signing body parts.”
Was he joking? He was joking…I think.
“Right. No, we’re saving that for the tattoo shop booked for 6.”
He raises his brows, a slow smile spreading across his face and like the sun coasting over the horizon he looks brighter and prettier.
“That’s mad, that people would get a random man’s signature tattooed on them isn’t it?”
It’s inevitable really, my eyes skim over his torso brimming with tattoos. He notices and laughs. It’s a wonderful laugh.
“I meant they don’t really know me.”
“They admire you and it’s a piece of you,” I shrug. “At least it’s not a portrait of your face.”
“I’ve seen that floating around the internet actually.”
“Really?!” Now that was mad. I pull it up on the laptop and cover my mouth.
“I know.” He hangs his head and we laugh. God, things were finally getting better. This was the kind of relationship I thought Harry would have with his PA.
I scroll through comments and it’s impossible to wipe the smile off my face. I’ve considered myself a fan for a lot of artists but tattooing their face…that was another level of commitment I couldn’t do.
I look back to Harry who has grown quiet. His eyes are on me.
“What happened to your blazers?”
I’d decided to wear a skirt today, it was my lucky skirt—the one I had been wearing when I got the call that the job was mine. It being the last work day of the week I thought it might make me feel good.
I’d paired it with a tank top and a comfy cardigan. I’d finally felt like myself compared to all the button ups and blazers I’d been parading in. But apparently Harry had noticed the wardrobe difference. Shocker because he barely acknowledged me this week.
“I thought I’d dress for a Saturday?” It comes out meeker than I’d hoped. Ugh. “I hope that’s alright. If you want me more professional-“
“That’s alright,” his eyes roam down my body and I feel hot all over. Oh god, I shouldn’t have worn this. “It looks good.”
“Thanks,” I cross my cardigan over my body and try to get back to work but he doesn’t let it end there.
“Did you make that yourself?”
He continues to surprise me, “I did actually, is it obvious?”
“Yeah there’s a big hole down the back,” he teases. I know he is because his eyes are smiling, light.
“Damnit,” I relax a little. He was only interested in the sweater. “I’d finished it late it looked okay in the dark.”
“I have a friend, she made one of those for me. With the patches. Very comfortable.” He’s weirdly intense while looking at me and I feel like squirming again.
“It is. Very stretchy.” My vocabulary seems to shrink.
He leans over to touch the fabric and I feel like a cactus has been stabbed into my neck, I feel hot and prickly. Jeez, I had to chill out. My employer was just interested in my sweater. Super interested. Maybe I should just give him the damn thing. It would definitely fit him.
“Wool,” he smiles. He’s basically perched above me and I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I went from complaining about the fact that he acted like I wasn’t in any room he was in to not even being able to hold a conversation when he did.
I’m caught looking up into his unfairly gorgeous eyes and he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. Which I was in this instance, but still.
I’m saved by a loud voice coming out of the elevator.
“Harry you car is waiting downstairs.”
Like a book slammed shut, his expression retreats until all that’s left is the cover page with no summary. The friendly Harry from before is gone.
“Oi Harry! I had to come all the way upstairs because I’ve been sitting in that stupid car waiting! Do you not pick up your phone?”
“Lee,” Harry says as he walks across his living room. “If you can’t reach me you call my PA I’ve told you a million times.”
“And I’ve told you a million times not to keep me waiting. We have a lot to cover before we get to this meeting and I need every minute. God why are you shirtless go put on something appropriate!”
Harry miraculously does as he’s told—given I had already laid out an outfit for him. He’s ready in no time. His accountant, Lee? Simply smiles at me and goes back to typing on her phone while we wait.
“Why is that so wrinkled?” Lee judges Harry who walks out in a completely different outfit.
“I don’t have time to change again do I?” Harry bristles.
Lee looks over at me and I’m not sure if she’s accusing me of something or looking for support.
“Mr. Styles I did leave an outfit out for the m-“
“I don’t wear silk.” He cuts me off and walks out ahead. Lee shrugs my way and follows him. I trail behind, feeling worse than ever.
For a miserable hour and a half I sit in one of the most uncomfortable chairs of my life, organizing Harry’s life while I wait for his meeting to end. As hard as I try to concentrate, I keep agonizing over what I might have done wrong to flick his switch. I swear things were going better. And I know I’ve seen him in silk before. Why the hell else would it be in his closet? Why couldn’t I go a single day without screwing up?
I finally spot Harry walking out of the office and gather my things quickly to meet him. I trail behind as we walk down the hall into the lobby, Lee is nowhere to be seen.
A gasp catches my attention and suddenly a girl younger than me rushes up to Harry.
“Oh my…Harry Styles?”
Harry’s face morphs briefly into annoyance, his gaze flicking my way, before pasting on a smile for the girl.
What to do when a fan approaches H (in the wrong moment): be the bad guy, divert, get Harry to wherever he needs to go to and do it quick.
“Hi,” Harry smiles sweetly at her and the friendliness throws me off guard. But this was unexpected and I should get him away…I think.
“Oh my god could I get a picture? My mate is never going to believe this. She loves you so much, so do I-“
“We really have to be going.” I say and the girl looks at me, surprised to find me there. I look around and spot and older woman watching us. Must be her mum.
“Could I just get a picture?” She glances between us.
“I don’t think Mr-“
“It’s fine,” Harry hands me her phone. “Get a photo of us.”
Just another layer of humiliation to add to the rest of the day. The rest of the week. God was I just awful at reading cues?
I snap a couple and then we’re walking free.
He doesn’t say anything. The car ride to his lunch date is spent in awkward fucking silence and I hate myself more with every second I spend in it.
When the car stops at his destination he holds his hand up when I go to open the door for him.
“Listen -what's your name again?" He asks.
Shame and humiliation drip over me like blood on Carrie’s prom night. I repeat it for him. Just like I had daily since I was hired.
“Right. Y/n. You came highly recommended from a friend so I trust you know how to do this job. This job, is to keep my life organized and keep me on track. Make sure I'm not distracted or side tracked by anyone. Including you. It’s not to be my publicist or my fashion advisor or my personal security. Let's stick to the job description okay?"
His words land bitterly to my ears. Not personal. Just a job. Just a job. Just a fucking job. And yet it was starting to feel like my whole life.
“Yes of course.” I hear myself mumble. And like the big clown I had to be, I push open the door and get out so he can too. He walks to the restaurant without a goodbye and I crawl into the car, heading back to his place. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them out. Refuse to admit just how badly this job hurt.
***
“I’m not doing this on purpose,” I hiss into the phone. “You know I’d be there right now if I could!”
“Babe I get it’s your job but you haven’t come to anything in over a month since you started your job!”
“That’s unfair,” I cup my hand over my mouth. “Gray c’mon I’m going to be there just late.”
“That’s what you said last weekend.”
Last weekend, one of our good friends invited a few friends for dinner in their new place and Greyson had had to go alone. Everyone had messaged me to say I was missed but Gray had been stony, pretended to be asleep when I got home and then given me the silent treatment until I wore him down the next day. It was exhausting begging for affection.
“It’s my job Grey I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Me neither, you know my parents want us over for weekend roast some time but I’ve been avoiding giving them a date because I don’t want you to stand them up.”
“I-“ a shadow shifts in the corner of my eyes and I look up. Harry stands in the doorway. “I have to go we’ll talk later.”
“Whatever y/n,” Grey hangs up and my chest squeezes with all the hurt I was causing. But he saw the state I’d been in since I started this job a month ago and he knows this is just my life right now. Why was he suddenly acting like it was brand new information?
“Are you done your personal call?” Harry asks. He hovers in the doorway, I’d never actually seen him in this little office space. Then again, if he did step in there wouldn’t be much room for either of us to walk around each other.
“Sorry,” I hate myself for apologizing. Here and everywhere else in my life. But I have no other choice. “Can I do anything for you?”
“When are you heading out tonight?” He asks. His eyes glued to my face. I know my eyes are teary and I try to blink it away.
“Um, soon. In an hour or so,” blink blink blink. “Did you need anything from me before then?”
“Yes, I have a friend coming over tonight. Can you order us something for dinner. Something light. And get a bottle to chill for us—champagne. And can you push Monday’s cleaning service to tomorrow afternoon?”
“Consider it done.” I tell him, hoping he would just leave me alone in the dark here.
“Do you have evening plans?” He continues. Why did he never ignore me when I wanted him to!?
“Kind of yeah,” I try to keep it short. “A birthday.”
It was Grayson’s sister’s birthday. She had invited us to a local fave called The Violinist and of course I would only make it to the dessert course if I was lucky. These days, making it to dinner at all was a luxury. I lived off of sparkling water, leftovers, and coffee.
“Well best to finish up what you’re doing so you can head out.”
He leaves and I’m annoyed. Why couldn’t he be nice and just tell me to leave after doing what he asked. But here I sit folding fucking pamphlets for some idiotic pledge he had signed on for. Fuck me.
I’m miserable by the time I leave. I’d managed to finish everything in a half hour so I’d touched up my makeup and changed into a simple dress I had kept in the office closet on Riley’s suggestion.
“A simple black number that could be used for any last minute event.” He’d said. Unfortunately that now counted for personal events too.
“G’night Mr. Styles.” I call out as I walk to the foyer, just so he knows I was going out earlier than I said.
“G’night,” he answers surprisingly. He always ignored me but tonight he sits on the couch. He rises to see me off but I notice him pause and take in my outfit. “Fun night?”
“I hope so.” I unfold the blazer in my hand, suddenly wanting to disappear with his gaze on me.
His long legs walk to me and he takes the blazer I’m fidgeting with from my hands. He actually holds it open and if I wasn’t this exhausted my jaw would definitely be on the floor.
“Oh. Thank you,” I slip it on and turn to face him. As if helping me put it on wasn’t surprising enough, he proceeds to untuck my hair from the blazer.
“That’s alright,” he says in a low seductive tone. “You look nice. Are you dressed up for someone?”
The question is dangerous, toeing a line I’m not sure I want to erase. I try to ease things with a joke. “The birthday girl I guess.”
“A friend?”
“My fiancé’s younger sister.”
Was it just me, or does he bristle when I mentioned my fiancé?
“I didn’t know you were engaged,” he mumbles, glancing down at my hand. I wore a number of rings and I guess the small diamond Grayson had proposed with back when it was the most he could afford, blended in.
“Yeah, nearly a year now.”
“Wow,” he crosses his arms. “Have a date set?”
“Not exactly,” I smooth my hair behind my ears. “We’re thinking next year but we’ve just been so busy with out schedules-“
“What does he do?”
“He’s a personal trainer,” I say proudly.
“Oh,” Harry tilts his head back. “Oh. Now I understand. Now I get the connection. My mate Liam put in a good word for you when I needed a new PA, he said he knew you through his personal trainer. He never mentioned how.”
“I see,” I’d have to thank Liam next time I saw him. He’d been one of Grayson’s first big clients and had become a close friend to us. I’d have to thank him with dinner. If I got any nights off, that is.
“That’s who you were talking to on your personal call?” He asks, his hand tracing my shoulder seam down to my elbow. My heart races from the ghost of his touch.
“Erm yeah, sorry again. I had to take it since it was time sensitive.”
“Best to get going then.”
I take a step backwards and then rush to the elevator all at once. Once I’m on and the doors start to close I turn and catch a glimpse of his handsome face watching me go.
I let out a breath. That was weirdly heavy. And kind of intimate. But weird. That was weird.
I wonder briefly who he was having over tonight. If it was Kimberly, who I’d had the misfortune of meeting in her panties one morning. Or his other “friend” some brunette named Maya or Amaya something. I’d had the misfortune of meeting her when I dropped off a late package to Harry one evening. All were awkward encounters.
I shake away the thoughts and am grateful when Harry’s driver waves me down on the sidewalk. I guess Harry had told him to take me to where I needed to go. My heart is warmed ever so slightly, although I do accidentally nap on the 15 minute drive over.
I make it for the end of dinner and Gray looks relieved to see me even though his eyes hold a hint of something unspoken. I try to ignore it tonight.
“Oh you look beautiful!” I hug the birthday girl, and we sway from side to side. I used to see her a lot before she moved away for uni. “When did you stop being a baby, Josie Duran let me get a look at you.”
“Josefina tell her what you did for your 21st.” Gray says.
“Can you let it go!?” Josie scowls.
“What?” I whisper.
“Mom will kill you,” Gray warns.
“That’s why she doesn’t have to know,” Josie bites.
“Hey,” I put my hands up between the two. “No fighting with the birthday girl. Anyway. Josie, you look beautiful, I’m so sorry I’m late but it’s so good to be here.”
“Aw no don’t worry about it,” she goes in for another quick hug. “I’m just happy you got to come. Gray said the bloke you work for is a nightmare. Tell us do we know him?”
“Ah,” I wasn’t really supposed to talk about him according to my nda. “I dunno if you would. Anyway I’m going to try to steal some of Gray’s leftovers until dessert comes.”
I sit beside Gray where the seat had been left empty and smile up at him, hoping for forgiveness. He sighs and kisses my forehead, pushing his plate towards me.
“Go ahead, have you eaten?”
I had a banana and a yoghurt for lunch but I don’t tell him, just making a vague answer for yes and scarfing down what’s left.
“She got a tattoo,” he says in my ear later as the restaurant finishes singing happy birthday and a cake with sparklers is set down. He’d gotten tipsy and I can tell because he wants to talk about his upsets.
“She’s a grown woman Gray,” I know he was protective and a little traditional—that’s where half of their sibling fights originated, but I always told him he had to let loose a little. “She’s allowed to get it. If I remember you have some tattoos of your own.”
“It’s different y/n.”
“She’s getting older faster than we can keep up with huh?” I lean my head against Gray’s shoulder and let out a big sigh. It feels good, sitting with him here surrounded by friends. It had been a while.
Gray leans his head against mine and doesn’t answer. We watch her friends take pictures like proud parents, watching her cut and then distribute the cake. I should help, but I just could not lift a finger.
“Hey y/n, is that your phone going off?” Josie’s friend beside me points to my facedown phone.
“Is it?” I sit up, my heart doing a number in my chest.
I pick it up, 2 missed calls from Harry and 3 texts. Fuck.
“Leave it,” Gray must be looking over my shoulder. “You’ve gone home now just screw him.”
“I can’t,” I didn’t want Gray getting mad—I know he was kinda drunk and he could make a scene like this. I didn’t want to ruin Josie’s celebration. But I couldn’t ignore this. This is the first time Harry’s messaged me after I’ve gone home. “I’ll take it outside.”
On my way to the door I open the messages. A picture of a bucket filled with ice. A row of question marks. And then: call me
What? What was so urgent about a bucket of-
Oh.
Fuck.
I thought I did everything but I hadn’t. I’d filled the bucket with ice and meant to ask the Italian restaurant around the corner to deliver a bottle like they usually did for Harry but I hadn’t gotten to that part.
I feel like I’m going to vomit any dinner I just had.
I crouch down. Do I call him? Do I pretend I didn’t see this until too late? No. I had to face up. I fucked up.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
I call with shaking hands but it rings and rings and goes straight to voicemail. I try again.
I had to get back, get him the champagne. Fix my mistake.
“Y/N,” Grayson’s suddenly outside. “Aren’t you coming back in?”
“I can’t. I…” how do I explain this to my fiancé without it sounding minor as hell. “I forgot to mail some important documents and I need to get back-“
“It’s Saturday fucking night.”
“Yeah but-“
“And guess what?! Tomorrow’s Sunday! The mail’s going nowhere! Fuck that wanker and come back in.”
Gray holds out his arms and I want to go back in but I need to fix this mistake.
I grasp his hand and he smiles, misunderstanding why I held it, “Gray I have to go-“
He pulls his hand away, a sneer on his face. It hurts when he looks at me that way, like I betrayed him.
“I showed up! I celebrated, I got here Gray I just have to-“
“You were barely here! Do you know how upset she was when I said you couldn’t make it?”
“Well why did you say that!?” I demand. “I told you I was only going to be late!”
“I can’t trust that!” He shouts and I try to pull his arm so he quiets but he doesn’t seem to care there are people around. “Your time is all his, every single fucking second! And when you’re not there your brain is going a million bajillion times over about him and his life. Even when you’re with me! What the fuck! What’s up with that!?”
“Gray I’m sorry look I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I swear. I’ll make it up to your sister I-“
“I don’t care y/n,” Gray slips his arm out of my grasp. “Do whatever you want. Nothing I say matters anymore anyway right?”
“Gray,” tears streak my face as I watch the man I love go back inside without another look my way.
Fuck Harry.
I try to call him again but voicemail. Again. Fuck!
What to do when you make a mistake: admit to it—Harry appreciates accountability. FIX IT! As much as you can. FIX YOUR MISTAKES OR FACE CONSEQUENCES.
An alert that my uber was here pings my phone—I take the ride to the restaurant and grab an already chilled bottle. I book it to Harry’s building and ride the elevator up, every floor causing a further dip in my stomach.
The doors open to a dimly lit space. There’s music playing, something jazzy, and it smells like…vanilla? Vanilla roses?
“Hol-hold on,” I hear Harry chuckle. A head pops up from the other side of the sofa.
“Y/n?” He looks as confused as I am.
Oh my god, I realize as a giggle comes from the floor. They were on the fucking floor of the living room? They were on the floor of the living room f…what the fuck did I walk into?
“Just back with this,” I squeak, holding up the bottle.
“Harry did you invite someone else?” The voice asks from below with another laugh. He sighs, disappearing again. I hear a very distinct wet noise before he pops back up again, I look at the doors of the elevator trying even harder not to give in to the panic attack that was looking more and more tempting.
“What are you doing here?” Harry approaches me with a softened voice. Wearing a robe. A silk robe. I knew he wore silk.
“You called—the bottle I’m sorry it totally slipped my mind I-“
“I told you to call me?”
“I did, you didn’t pick up! I thought I should swing by-“
“I thought you had a party?” His forehead scrunches.
“I…” the pieces come together. Did I take this too seriously because Harry didn’t even look angry? Great. I was an idiot and proving to Harry I had no life. “It ended. Early. I…I wanted to fix my mistake and bring the bottle.”
He takes it from my hand, still confused. “Y/N.”
I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. And lord, in this climate with him in just a robe hearing my name on his lips is not okay. I was going to pass out.
“I’ll leave.” I go back to the elevator but he starts talking again.
“I asked you to call me so I could ask-“ he stops when I turn back around to listen. He closes the gap between us again with a sigh, and I don’t realize my face was still streaked with tears. It was probably more noticeable in the elevator light. He takes his finger and swipes across my cheek, his brows furrowing.
“Sorry,” I swipe my cheek to remove the remaining evidence. “I’ll leave you to it.”
He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Thank you for coming back.”
I nod.
“If you’re going to leave early next time, make sure you finish everything I’ve asked you to do. Don’t skip out like this again.”
“Yes yeah of course,” I stutter, relieved to fit back into our usual roles. For a second there, I thought Harry was going to be kind. And that would have been way worse.
“Good night Y/N. See you Monday.”
“Good night Mr. Styles.”
Gray’s not home by the time I get back. I wake the next morning to his side untouched.
So I do the only thing that felt good these days, I curl up into a ball and cry.
***
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unioncityblues · 2 months
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Debbie Harry on the set of Blondie's music video for "Heart of Glass," 1979.
Photographed by Roberta Bayley.
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emeraldexplorer2 · 1 month
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Debbie Harry at home 1968
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tygerland · 8 months
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Debbie Harry photographed by Trixi Rosen for an article on punk rock attitude, published in After Dark magazine, October 1977.
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Debbie Harry, 1978.
Photo by Lynn Goldsmith
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be-with-me-so-happily · 9 months
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Not Another Time
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ONE SHOT
[ or Part 2 of Could We Not ]
<< Request >> "I loved could we not. Can you maybe also write when that guy came running on stage and he maybe pushes reader out of the way or something like that😅" - anon
<< Request >> "Omg PLEASE could you do more parts or ‘could we not’ literally loved it!!!" - @loza--may
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Summary: Harry is used to things getting crazy on tour. What he wasn't ready for is how much he misses YN during the Latin American leg of his tour. But at the Rio de Janeiro show, he needs to expect the unexpected.
AN: Highly requested part 2, which I wasn't expecting but am so honored to have written for you all. Sorry it took me FOREVER to write and post this. I hope you like it.
Warnings: Some explicit language, attempted attack by a fan, mild head injury
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Not much can shake Harry when it comes to wild moments on tour, throughout his entire career. There once was a fan hiding in a trash bin, dildos thrown at his face, wedding proposals, canceled shows due to illness, and there was even a time when a girl tried to dolphin her way onto the stage, back in the early days. But he still loves it, loves it all. It's titled 'Love On Tour' for a reason.
Now, he's in Latin America. Any and every performance here has such a special place in Harry's heart. He has a 'brasil' tattoo on his thigh, after all. However, the time is a little different.
The horn players have not accompanied the band for these shows. No trombone, no saxophone, and no trumpets. Which means no YN. No sweet but subtle winks onstage, no flirtatious comments backstage, no seeing her bright smile, no hearing her pure laugh, or getting lost in her beautifully deep eyes. No gazing at her lips and wishing so desperately that he could kiss them again.
Unfortunately, their first kiss was their last. Harry hopes that's not forever. But after it happened, he got sick, putting a crimp in his plans to further things with her. When he recovered, their time was taken up by those last few shows in Los Angeles. Then he was off to Mexico. And she wasn't.
Needless to say, her absence is very apparent. To him, at least.
So, like he has done every show since Guadalajara, Harry checks his phone after getting dressed. He wants to make sure he hasn't missed any 'good luck' texts before going on stage, but a disappointed sigh releases as he sees that he has no new messages.
"Alright, H. Ten minutes." The stage assistant announces.
Harry nods, handing his phone over and grabbing his mic pack from the sound tech. The band gathers around for a little pre-show ritual and Harry feels the tug on his heart, wishing there were four more members in their huddle, so there could be one particular member tucked under his arm. But he commits to staying focused on his performance, to put on a good show for the people of Rio de Janeiro.
Despite a few fans fainting in Bogota, things have been relatively smooth so far, and this night should be no different. All he has to do is get out there and get through it.
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"Do you know the words to this one Rio?" Harry shouts to the crowd as the band begins to play 'What Makes You Beautiful'.
Despite his efforts, this song always makes him miss YN. The trumpets in the backing track just don't do this song, or any of the songs, as much justice as when she is there, with him, playing live. The other three too, of course, but he has always been able to distinguish her trumpet from the other horns, and he would always dance near her while this song played. Without that, without her, it's just not nearly as exciting.
As he begins the second verse, Harry moves to his left, twisting around to tug on the mic cord that feels as if it's caught on something.
"I don't know why you're being shy…" Harry's eyes shoot up and then around as a security guard strides past him, settling his gaze on a figure charging towards him. "And you turn away when I look into your eyes."
It's like a flash. He is walking, then swiveling around, moving over, and then backing up into another security guard. All within a matter of a few seconds. It takes a moment for him to fully understand what's happening, as multiple crew members grab hold of the man.
Watching him be dragged offstage, Harry moves back to the center mic, still in shock of what happened but still wanting to continue the song.
He glances over to each side of the stage, shaking the disbelief away when he meets the gazes of a few of the band and crew. Each one reciprocates the sentiment, yet seem to keep their caution, as a few of them motion over that way. Harry turns back, just for a quick check, and notices a small group of people gathered in a huddle. He turns back to the crowd. He trusts his team, he knows they are handling whatever it is, and he won't let this one moment take away from the show. It can't stop him. It won't stop him.
As the song ends he takes a quick moment to gather himself and take a breath before turning to the crowd.
"Well that was different…" He states sarcastically, though truthfully. It's probably one of the more accurate ways to describe that moment, especially if he's trying to keep this a 'family show', as he always claims. "Is everybody okay?"
The fans laugh and cheer, seeming to answer his question with the same disbelief he feels.
"I'm shooketh… I'm shooketh!" He exclaims, receiving another laugh from the audience. At least they are recovering and feeling good. Now he can recover and feel good too. He twists around, looking from one side of the stage to another, meeting the gaze of a few security guards and crew as he does so. "Thank you, thank you. You saved me!"
That's when he catches it. The glimpse of a familiar face, of YN's face, off to the side of the stage, among the small group he had noticed earlier. However, her expression is not one he's seen before. Well, only once before. It's pained, again, but this time it looks worse, and Harry feels his stomach drop.
He transitions into a quick acknowledgement of his band members, his mind wanting to focus solely on the one who wasn't even scheduled to be there, but as soon as he's done, he takes advantage of what's next.
He uses the band mic to let everyone know he'll be off to the side while the extended introduction to 'Late Night Talking' plays on the screens, and once the lights dim he swiftly makes his way over.
"YN. What's-... what are you-… umm, hi." He fumbles, his thoughts racing with so many questions. He didn't even know she'd be in Brazil, or at the show, let alone on the side of the stage, and now she's standing there in front of him, with an ice pack on her head.
"Hi." She chuckles minimally, hurting Harry's heart with the lack of usual enthusiasm and joy. "I came… to surprise… everyone."
"Well, you did that!" He exclaims, managing as best of a smile as he can. His gaze travels from her eyes, to her lips, and then up to her head, and his expression immediately drops. "What happened?"
"It's nothing." She attempts to play off, much like the last time he saw her injured. "Don't worry about me."
"That's impossible." He retorts. "What happened?"
"The guy… the fan, just… knocked me down… on his way out with security." She shakes her head, scoffing, though Harry feels as if she's directing it towards herself more than anyone else.
"Okay. Umm… go backstage and get checked out." He states, his ears picking up on the music, knowing he'll have to return to center stage in just a few moments. "I'll… I'll see you after, yeah?"
"Harry, I'm fi-"
"Just do it!" He exclaims, immediately wincing as he watches her eyes widen with surprise. He's never talked to her like that, never even raised his voice even remotely in her direction without it being out of excitement or flirtation. But he cares about her, and now he will only worry more seeing her there in pain. "Please."
She nods, opening her mouth with a reply, but seemingly deciding against it.
Harry gives YN a quick kiss on the cheek and hustles back over to his mic stand, shooting his gaze to the side for one last glance of her as she walks out of sight.
It's not as if he's going to stop worrying, but maybe it'll be a little less than it would if she were still there watching him. He knows she'll be taken care of, and he'll see her when it's over. Right now, he needs to get through the rest of it, preferably without any other issues.
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"... on a Summer evening, what is happening? An-... you're the end of… we are going to stop the song."
Technical difficulties. During 'Watermelon Sugar'. Of course. As if Harry's mind wasn't already somewhere else. He knows it's an easy fix, hopefully, but it's just another thing added to the existing thoughts already causing chaos in his mind. He's a professional, sure, but everyone has a limit and he just doesn't want to find out where his is.
Get through it. That's all he has to do, just get through the next song, the show, and the night. Just get through it and then get to YN.
'Love of My Life' is next. Thankfully it's a slow song, so he can calm his mind and body down, even just a little, before the break in the set. And at that point he can finally regroup.
It works, for a moment, until he notices that some fans need help, and despite making his team aware, they are still there struggling. He lifts the mic stand up and turns his head back, motioning with his finger, with some intensity, for someone to help them and get them out of there.
He feels himself spiraling, just a bit, and has never looked forward to the end of a song as much as he is tonight.
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As Harry waves to the crowd, with a mouthful of water, he impatiently waits to spit it up in the air, thank the crowd, and get the hell off stage.
The crowd continues to applaud and cheer as he says goodbye, turning around and using the last bit of energy he has to run backstage.
He stops among the hustle of the crew, realizing he isn't sure where to go, or where to even start looking for YN. The most likely place is his dressing room, so he swiftly shuffles his way there, doing his best to acknowledge anyone he passes by that congratulates or compliments him. He feels bad, he usually takes time with each person, always grateful for their work and feedback. But not tonight. He only has one person on his mind. One person he wants and needs to see.
He swings the door open and takes a quick scan of the room, finding no one. Not anyone. Not her. He runs his fingers through his now very sweaty hair, inhaling deeper to catch his breath and figure out where to go next, where to look next.
He takes a seat on the couch, elbows resting in his knees, and glances over to the table in front of him to find a note that wasn't there before. He grabs it immediately, blinking the salty moisture out of his eyes as he looks over the words.
"Hey H.
Went back to the hotel.
Hope you had a great
rest of your show!
- YN"
"Fuck." He mumbles, suddenly remembering how he yelled for her to go backstage. Well, he could argue that he only raised his voice, but in that moment, that hectic moment, it didn't matter. He shouldn't have done it at all. And truth be told, it would've made the entire night better if she had stayed. But he yelled, and sent her away. Now all he wants to do is go to her and make it better, make her feel better.
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After the fastest shower and outfit change of his life, Harry found Jeff and discovered that his manager helped YN get there, so he knew which hotel room was hers. At least Harry didn't have to spend countless hours searching all of Rio for her.
He stands in front of her door and takes a deep breath, nerves on edge as he knocks, and fully prepared for her to open the door and ask him to leave. Immediately.
"Harry?" He hears, causing his gaze to lift from his shoes to the woman in front of him. She's dressed in cotton shorts and a t-shirt, looking comfortable and yet more beautiful than he's ever seen her. He just wishes she wasn't also holding another ice pack to her temple.
"YN." He breathes out, unable to form any other words as he looks her over, hopefully more subtle than he fears it might be. "Are y-... how… I mean, umm…"
The sweetest sound grabs his attention and he watches her step aside as she lets out a small giggle.
"Come in."
He nods, and without hesitation steps into the room. The sound of the door closing causes him to swivel on his heel, and his eyes stay fixed on YN as she motions him over to the edge of the bed.
"What's up?" She asks, casually, removing the ice pack and placing it down beside her.
"I, umm, wanted to check on you." He answers, not convinced his volume was even loud enough to be heard. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore." She swiftly responds, and he cringes at the lack of emotion with it. Even though it was only one word, he feels as if he knows her well enough to know that's not her normal tone. "Hit my head when the guy knocked me to the ground."
"I'm so sorry, YN. I didn't know you were there tonight, or I would've…" He pauses, looking down to where his nails pick at each other. "I don't know… I could've done… something…"
"No, Harry, I'm sorry." She states, causing his gaze to shoot back up to find hers filled with, what looks like, embarrassment. And maybe even regret. But definitely with insecurity, which is not something he's used to seeing from her. "I shouldn't have come."
"Oh." His heart drops.
"I feel like I may have been in the way. Well, I was for that fan…" She states, the smallest smile lifting the corners of her mouth, despite the roll of her eyes and shake of her head. "But I definitely didn't want to be in yours."
"No! I'm glad you're here!" He replies, without hesitation, and watches as her eyes widen, now allowing him to see the depths at which they usually take him to.
"You are? Because it seemed like…" YN clears her throat, confirming for Harry that she is in fact nervous. Not confident. And it seems to be his fault. "It seemed like you were upset when you saw me."
"No! Not at all." Harry replies, his frustration with himself appearing in the crease between his brows. "I wasn't upset seeing you there, I was upset seeing you hurt. Really upset. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm sorry."
"It's fine, H. I'm alright."
"I know. I know that. I just… I was worried for the rest of the show, wondering if you were okay. It was torturing me."
"I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm really sorry." She lets out a sigh, and it almost breaks Harry's heart as she drops her gaze and squeezes her eyes shut.
"No, don't-... that's not-..." Harry lets out a low growl in frustration. He doesn't know how to express what he means, and if he even should. But at this point, he doesn't know if he can hold back. "It was torture because all I wanted to do was fix it for you. Like last time."
"Like last time?"
He hears her breath hitch, and his heart races more, feeling each beat thump against his chest. They had shared a kiss the last time she got hurt. They spent the rest of the night together, hanging out and talking until the sun was almost rising. But then nothing. Was that it? Was it just a one time thing, just a momentary thing after an adrenaline-raising show? No, it wasn't. Not for him. And she needs to know.
"I… like you, YN. A lot. And that night… meant a lot to me." He fully turns his body towards her, gaining a fraction of the confidence for himself that he has always seen in her, and since she is now there in Brazil, he won't waste another minute without sharing his heart. "We didn't really get to talk much afterwards, or see each other even, but I just need you to know that… I want to be with you. If… if that's something you want too."
Harry watches as she pulls her lips inward, hoping that the expression he sees underneath is pleasant. Pleasant for him. But he suddenly realizes that if she doesn't feel the same, he doesn't want to lose her. For the band.
"If it's not, no problem. We can move past it." He swallows the lump caught grasping against the walls of his throat. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, and don't want you to leave the band over it. You're very talented, YN."
"Thank you." She replies, looking over at him with those gorgeous eyes and a tenderness she's never given him before, and despite him offering to move past his feelings, for the sake of his heart, he desperately hopes that she feels the same. He wants her to only look at him like that from now on. "And that night meant a lot to me as well."
"Yeah?" He responds, shifting in his spot at the edge of her bed, with all the giddiness of a lovesick school boy.
"I want to be with you too, H."
His palms fly up to her cheeks, receiving a warmth from them that flows right to his chest. His gaze flickers to her lips, yearning for them, desperate for them.
"Are you going to kiss me or not?" She chuckles, and his heart swells from the self-assurance that she always expresses, that he has fallen for.
He grins, wider than he ever has, but only for a moment. He's not going to wait any longer. He leans closer, and her eyes close, pursing her soft lips to meet his in a gentle kiss.
Her hands run up his arms, applying pressure as they move over his shoulders, and connect behind his neck. She pulls him closer, and his tongue teases her lips before she parts them, each sighing as they deepen the kiss.
His chest tightens, this time out of need for air, so he pulls back, only leaving enough room for a breath, and smiles as he hears her release her own, happy exhale.
"How are you feeling now?" He asks, resting his forehead against hers as one hand strokes over the hair covering her temple.
"Much better. I do need to rest now, though." She whispers. "But, you know, I may have a concussion…"
"That's not funny."
"No, it's not. It's very serious." She pulls away more, hands still behind his head, and his mind fills with worry. Worry and confusion, as he watches her smile reappear through her solemn expression. "I should probably have someone stay with me tonight. To make sure I'm alright, of course."
"Of course." He smirks, feeling his heart burst, following as she scoots up the bed and rests her head on the pillow.
He does the same, laying down to face her, and sees her eyes begin to flutter shut. It's been an exhausting day for the both of them.
"Come here." He whispers, opening his arms for her to settle in, wrapping them around her body, and pulling her to his chest. "You doing okay?"
"More than okay." She utters, drowsiness now coating her words. "Thank you, for fixing things."
"Anytime." He replies, placing a tender kiss on top of her head. "I'll fix things for you anytime."
A silence falls between them, and as he hears her soft breaths leave her even softer lips, Harry hums in contentment, allowing his own body to succumb to the rest it now needs too. He shuts his eyes, and one last thought appears as he feels himself happily drift off to sleep.
Despite all the chaos, this night didn't turn out so bad after all. With YN, it's been the best one yet.
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hayheehee · 2 months
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Do me? ~ HS One-Shot
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{ You and your boyfriend harry are laying down in your room as harry asks you to rub his chest to help him fall asleep. His way of asking this is simply just saying " do me"}
“Do meeeeeee” harry groans with his eyes closed next to me in our bed.
“H I’m sleepy” I say rolling back over to face him.
“Me too, just do me and then I’ll fall asleep and then you can fall asleep” he says, sounding like a needy child.
“You’re so so needy, you know?” I groan as I reach over and start scratching up and down his chest, soothing him to sleep, or in his words “doing him”
“Mhhhhh thank you babyyyy” he says as I lay down in the crook of his arm, putting my head on his shoulder and I drag my nails on his stomach teasingly.
I drag my hand down a little further, deciding to have fun with harry in this sleepy state, I run my hands under his belly button getting closer to the waistband of his boxers. 
As I’m doing this I feel harry jump under my touch, his stomach flinching at my touch.
“Babyyy” he groans getting himself worked up
“Yes lover?” I moan teasingly in his ear, enjoying playing this little game with my usually dominant boyfriend.
Harry just groans in reply as I shift my body weight from laying down to sitting up, straddling his thigh, feeling myself get warmer and more tingly down there at the clothed contact. 
“You’re making me horny baby” harry groans out as I still scratch up and down his chest. Moving from his stomach, all the way up to his collarbone, and then farther up to his neck, not putting any pressure, but holding his neck in my hand.  
I bring my face down to the crook of his neck, and I whisper menacingly ;
“Then you should do me, daddy.”
As if that last word was like a slap to the face harry opens his eyes quickly and the next thing I know he is flipping us over, and grinding his growing cock into my pussy, the only thing between them is the thin fabric of his boxers and my panties. 
“How bad do you want me to fuck you?” He asks
After no reply from me he makes his way down moving the covers off of us as he says something along the lines of “Looks like I’m gonna have to see for myself” 
he moves down to take off my panties, revealing my wet pussy to him, and the cold air of our bedroom
“Ooh looks like you want it quite a lot, huh honey? He says tilting his head, mockingly.
“Yes” I quietly say
“Yes what?” Harry says maintaining piercing eye contact in the dim light of the room.
“Yes, daddy” I say returning the eye contact, making myself seem more confident than I was in this moment.
“Oh then I’m gonna have to do something about this huh sweet girl?” He says dragging his hands down my stomach getting down to the top of my pussy, as he uses his thumb to slowly massage my clit”
“Yes daddy” I quietly moan out, squeezing my eyes closed 
“Its a shame you can’t see how pretty you look right now, and how perfect this pussy is” harry says as he slides his boxers off, jerking himself off while looking and me, spread out in front of him.
Harry lines up his tip with my clit rubbing it up and down before moving lower and lining himself up with my hole just holding himself there waiting for me to break our silence.
“Please?” I say reaching up trying to pull him closer to me
“Baby when are you gonna learn? I need more words, please what?” 
“Please put your dick in me. Please?” I beg him
“Only cus you asked so so pretty baby” He says as he slowly lowers himself into me, stretching me open.
After a few moments of slowly and teasingly moving gin and out of me, I grind my hips up into harry, motioning that I’m ready for him to move faster. Harry speeds up his movement, moving his hand from my hip, t next to my head, pulling himself up so he can look at me as his thrusts get faster, and deeper.
Grabbing Harrys bicep I start moaning out louder and louder, taking in and appreciating how good harry makes me feel. Harry slows himself down again, keeping it interesting, until he sits up and pulls out of me, after I groan at the feeling, I feel harry pull me lower on the bed and push my legs up, making me more open, and so I can feel harry deeper.
As harry lowers himself in me again I feel him impossibly deeper then before, because of this new position harry can also move faster, making me moan again so very loud, making me very grateful we live alone.
As harry moves in and out of me faster, I tighten my grip on his bicep, feeling myself get closer and closer to cumming.
“Harry” I squeal out, giving him the warning that I’m getting close
Once harry registers this warning he starts moving faster and deeper, hitting all of the right spots within me.
“Fuck, im gonna cum” I breathily moan out 
“Me too baby, fuck, squeeze my dick sweet girl, fuck. Harry moans out and I can see the veins in his neck and arms becoming more prominent”
“Im cumming” I scream out squeezing around harry as he moans and closes his eyes and I can feel his cum shooting into me, making my orgasm even more intense. 
“Fuck” harry breathes out as he collapses down onto me, and we just lay there as we catch our breath and appreciate the feeling of out hearts beating on top of each other. 
After laying there for a moment harry pulls out of me, as he grabs a tissue from our side table, cleaning the cum off of himself before climbing onto the bed and cleaning me up. He goes into eh bathroom to through away our tissues before he bends down to grab his boxers and my panties.
He helps me put my underwear back on, before he flops back down onto the bed before he groans out again;
“Babyyyy, will you do me? He smirks with his eyes closed.
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A mere 14+ hours late, but re: "Blondie's (Damon's) entrance into the ring."
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Photographer Kevin Cummins wrote of the photo in his book: Damon was getting into the role, having his chest hairs covered in talc to tone them down and his legs shaved. He would only shave them below the knee for some reason, but despite this the photo still works brilliantly. Years later I photographed Debbie Harry, who told me she (and the band) adored the photo and I told her about Damon only shaving below his knees. "Oh, tell him I only do that too," she said. "See, it's more authentic than you thought." (Debbie Harry would sweep the 70s version of the tournament, no?)
Also in this NME album sleeve homage series is Jarvis doing Elvis Costello, and Brett doing Sid Vicious; sadly, only their spirits remain in the colosseum. Oh, how many Brits have been popped here!
Committed to the role! I love this NME photo series with all my heart, it popped up my dash just a few days ago and I don't think I've ever hit reblog faster.
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-FINAL ROUND-
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ROUND 1, MATCH 4
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sistermorph1ne · 1 year
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Debbie Harry photographed by Kate Simon, 1977
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writingsfromhome · 12 days
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Dos and Don’ts II
A/N: the story kinda got away from me so it’s getting a part 3. Would love to know what you think of the characters/choices!
Part 1 / 2 / 3
—————————————————
It’s a beautiful morning; the late summer heat is right around the hour but for now the morning clouds keeps the city cool. I’m sat at Harry’s dinner table with stacks of paper around me, sorting out paperwork whilst on hold with a private venue he was playing in the fall to sort out some details his manager asked me for.
I had become good at my job, multitasking like a pro and not having to leave the room to make a call. After all, it had been nearly half a year of this.
And yet, my relationship with Harry Styles had stayed the same. Sometimes it felt like it got worse.
My other relationships, in the rest of my life, had definitely gotten worse.
“Riley just called said he’s sent over some prints I bought for the bedroom,” Harry pops into the room. “Can you call someone to put them up?”
“Yeah, where do you want them?” I get up so he can show me.
“Somewhere that looks good in there,” he waves his hand. “It’s pictures of me.”
“Of course they are,” I know how big-headed he could be. “Above the bed?”
“Hm,” he heads off to the bedroom so I follow. He examines each wall of his bedroom which was pretty neutral and relaxing to be in. “Why not? Yeah. Above the bed’s good.”
“Great.” With that I head back to my makeshift office.
I wondered why Riley didn’t message me directly about the prints considering we avoided getting Harry involved in these minor decisions.
Maybe I’d ask him tonight. We were having drinks—we tried a bunch of times to get together seeing we were “coworkers” but our timing rarely worked out. Since Gray was out of town the next two nights I’d reached out to Riley.
Evening comes quicker while I’m still buried behind paper. I start tidying up after 7.
“Going home?” Harry asks. He’d been out most of the day at voice lessons.
“Yes, your dinner’s in the oven and Roy said he left cocktails in the fridge.”
“Lovely Roy,” Harry rubs his hands together. “He makes the best drinks.”
I smile and go back to work.
“There’s enough for two,” he calls with his head in the fridge. “You want to join?”
Of course the one night Harry asks me to join him personally—a time I could use to get on his good side, I’m going out.
“I’m actually heading out for drinks myself.” He’s already placed the jug on the marble countertop.
“Oh.” He freezes awkwardly. “With your fiancé?”
“No,” for some reason I feel flustered at his mention of Gray. “With Riley actually. We’ve been meaning to get together for drinks since…I started. Wow. That’s been a long time.”
“Riley,” Harry purses his lips. “Does your fiancé know?”
“It’s a friendly drink,” I feel my temper flare. “I don’t need to report to my fiance.”
“If my fiancé was going out to drinks with a man with loose hands, I’d worry.”
“Well it’s a good thing we’re not engaged,” I mouth off before I can stop myself. He raises a brow and the single movement has me backpedaling. I was such a coward. “So you don’t have to worry.”
“Y/n you get away with a lot but I’d remember who’s working for who.”
I clench my teeth. Just seconds ago he was inviting me for a drink and now I’ve dug myself a grave. I couldn’t be stopped.
I grab my bag and head to the elevator.
“Don’t turn your back on him once he’s got a few drinks in.” Harry calls out.
Asshole, I think.
***
God, Riley talked a lot. He’s got 3 drinks to my 1.5 and really got the gift of the gab.
That is until he starts asking me about Harry.
“Do you find him hot? He’s kind of a lady’s man yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” I laugh. “Got ‘em all lined up.”
“And you?” He asks casually. “Has he got you yet?”
“Riley! I’m engaged,” I flash my ring.
“Didn’t stop the last girl,” he mutters.
“What? What’s that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me,” I poke him, knowing he wanted to talk about it anyway.
“Just that the last PA he had for…less than a year? She had a boyfriend and everything but one time I pop in early to set up for this masseuse right—I’m there and I hear someone in the bedroom with him. No big deal whatever. Then Harry comes out and he’s fuming just seeing me. Tells me to get out and leave the rest, that I should have called him. All this shite. And then I see her jacket, she wore a very specific jacket, and her shoes off the way. He was angry cuz I caught them.”
“Woah,” I think about the way Harry treats me. “Well I don’t have to worry about that. He can be a right dick with me.”
“He can come off that way. Until you get to know him. Well. He used to be nicer. It’s changed a bit since I started.”
“How long?” I ask, curious.
“Uhh I was his PA for a year and now this for one and a half?”
“Wow. That’s a long time.”
“I know. Too long. Well, big things are coming for me I can feel it. How about you? Are you staying long? I hear the way he talks to you, I don’t know how you put up with it.”
I thought he talked to all his PAs that way. Maybe he was different when Riley was his. Of maybe it was that Riley was a guy. Maybe the fame got to his head. “Uhm. I want to stick around for at least a year. What do you mean the way he talks to me?”
“He’s rude.” Riley runs his hand through his hair. “Don’t you find him rude? You’re surprisingly…graceful, but he’s always bossing you around and then ignoring you.”
I feel a pit in my stomach. So I wasn’t imagining it. “I thought that’s just the way he is.”
“No, you should have met him a couple years ago. A really cool guy. He taught me a lot.” Riley suddenly sobers as he looks off into the distance. “I grew a lot with him. I’m thankful for that y’know?”
“Right,” I nod. “Yeah. I dunno. I’m hoping to learn a lot here.”
“Well if you want to stay connected, keep my number. When you wanna jump ship just let me know.”
I’m surprised Riley is talking so openly about helping me leave. I would have thought he was a Harry die-hard.
“Yeah. Hey are you the one that’s created all those notes on the phone? They’ve been a life saver.”
“Notes? Oh the lists. I made them when I was his PA. I don’t know if the last girl updated any…”
I think of the snarky additions. She definitely did.
“Well I owe you my first-born because without them I’m pretty sure I would have been fired.”
“No you wouldn’t have,” he smirks.
“Uh yeah, I forgot to bring his bloody tablet to the studio the first day. He was so mad.”
“He wouldn’t fire you y/n,” he cocks his head to the side. “Not with the way I see it.”
“Huh?” I ask but Riley’s turned to the bar to ask for another drink.
I excuse myself and freshen up, checking my phone for messages. Gray’s sent me a picture of his hotel view and I send him a quick text back. I wish he was here. Maybe it was time I got home, I was starting to feel tired.
“I’m thinking of heading home,” I tell Riley when I get back.
“Now?” He looks at his watch. “Night’s still young y/l/n.”
“I’ve been up since 6 I’m dead.”
“Fine, I’ll walk you outside.” Riley knocks back half his drink and stands, swaying slightly. I put my hand out to steady him and he smiles down at me.
The pub is crowded as we walk past people, shoulders brushing against strangers. It takes me a second to feel the hand on my back sliding down to my ass.
I whip around to chew out whichever stranger thought he could get a grope but the only person behind me is Riley with a cocky smile.
“You alright? Let’s keep going.”
I can hear the blood pumping in my ears and I stumble back, Harry’s words echoing in my ear.
“I’m alright.” I try to put distance between us. “I’ll walk myself out you should look after your drink.”
“Nah c’mon,” he reaches for me again and I inch back.
“I said I’m okay,” I know my voice comes out harsh due to the fear coursing through my body. But I don’t care.
“Bloody hell alright then,” Riley shrugs. “Night y/n.”
I wait for him to turn and leave before I get out of there. The night air cools down the flush in my cheeks but I can’t get my heart to stop racing. Harry was right and for some reason it makes me angry at him. I’m furious.
All these men just made me feel small and confused all the time. Is that what I had to accept working in this industry? Was I just naïve for thinking things could be decent? That people could be decent?
I wish more than ever that Grayson was here. I imagine him on his own in another city. Then I imagine him alone, at home, while I’m working all the time. It felt like we were on a piece of ice drifting through the ocean and the middle was cracking leaving us to drift alone. My heart feels like it’s cracking with it.
I call Gray on the ride home just to see his face. I listen to him talk about his day and slowly my grip on the anger loosens. Slowly with his voice in my ear, I come back down to earth.
***
It’s a couple weeks after the Riley incident. I’d come into work the next day and managed to ignore Harry for most of it just like he did me.
Today I’m back at the dining table waiting for Harry’s publicist to call me to take me through what was left for this upcoming weekend for a small awards show Harry had been nominated in that was happening Sunday. Riley would be on the call too, the first time I’d seen him since that night. I just hoped my pokerface was good enough to move on past any awkwardness.
“Let me get your thoughts on this,” Harry sits down across from me with a yoghurt. He’d just come from the gym and seeing him shirtless now was just another Thursday afternoon.
He’d taken to using me as a soundboard lately which started out interesting and got old quickly. He loved to hear himself talk, I’ve concluded. And I was forced to listen. And he always lied. He never wanted my thoughts on anything, just an ego stroke.
And just like usual he launches into a song he’s working on and something about string progression and inversion. I nod along until my phone rings and I pick it up instantly.
Graham and I speak about the details of event and I reassure him everything would run smoothly. When I’m done Harry’s nearly done the smoothie he grabbed while I was on the phone.
“Austria tomorrow, everything’s prepped?”
“Yep, for you.”
“Not for you?”
“I have the rest of the week off?” I remind him just like I’d been doing for the last two weeks. So this wouldn’t happen.
“You do? I thought that was next week. What am I gonna do without you there it’s 4 days.”
“I reckon you’ll survive,” I say with a light tone but I’ve learned the art of backhanded jokes. It felt like the only way to get some of my aggression out. “Plus Riley’s joining you Saturday afternoon.”
“So I’ll be alone on Friday?”
I look up from my laptop, “Are you ever really alone?”
“I guess I’ll just have to invite one of my girls to keep me company,” he continues watching me. “Keep my bed warm.”
“If you’d like,” I hated when he tried to make me uncomfortable. “Let me know which one and I can cut her a ticket.”
He clenches his jaw and levels me with an irritated look. “I’m sure Vienna has many beautiful people to choose from.”
Ignore ignore ignore. I go back to my screen and leave him on heard.
***
“It’s been too long,” Gray clinks his glass with mine. It’s Friday night and we’re having an early anniversary celebration.
This whole weekend I promised Gray I would be his from Friday though Sunday even though our actual anniversary was on Monday.
Our relationship that was once so strong, supportive, and loving had started treading rocky grounds. I felt jostled and very close to being kicked right off the ride altogether.
I look at my fiancé’s face, his dark features and serious looks made him look intimidating but a flicker of his smile and you felt like you were on the ins with him about something. I had missed him.
The last time we did anything together was at the beginning of summer. I had a long weekend off and he’d driven us to lake district, soaking in the sun and hiking along the peaks. We’d had a serious conversation about our relationship but a lot of it had felt like me apologizing and him accusing.
“You look radiant,” Gray reaches for my hand. “How are you?”
I didn’t think he wanted the real answer. I hold back a sigh and replace it with a smile, “Alright. Better now to be with you.”
He kisses the back of my hand and my stomach flutters. “Me too. I’m excited for this weekend.”
“Let’s see we’re seeing friends tomorrow for brunch, then doing old school movies and dinner in the evening.”
“That was one of our first dates don’t make fun.”
“I’m not! It’s a classic I’m excited. It’s been so long since I saw a movie with you.”
With Harry, I’d seen a few. I was always told to tag along on premieres Riley passed on.
“And Sunday we’re just being lazy bed bugs.”
“Mmm that sounds amazing.” I could use a day in bed. A week in bed would be even better.
The night is perfect and romantic and it soothes the heartache I’d been carrying, the guilt that I was killing my relationship. Gray is attentive and we laugh like we always did.
I don’t mention work. It makes me anxious knowing I had to put the biggest part of my life on mute in order to keep the good vibes going with Gray.
Saturday brunch brings me back to life. I’d missed our friends and catching up on their lives, all the chatter and the laughter. Gray keeps reaching for me at the table and I feel like I belong.
“So how’s the tyrant?” My friends had started calling Harry that since he always kept me from most of our social outings.
“The usual,” I try to keep it short for Gray’s sake.
“Grayson was complaining that you spend more time with him than your actual fiancé!”
“Is that so?” I turn to Gray with a teasing expression but he’s serious.
“I wouldn’t have helped her with the job if I knew,” Gray jokes when I nudge him. The table laughs but I fake it, knowing the kernel of truth in it.
“He can’t be all that bad?” Another friend asks.
“Nope. Pretty consistently bad,” I tell them. “I’m just telling myself it’s vital experience. It’s the only thing that helps me sleep.”
“When she sleeps at all,” Gray slips in another passive joke and I try to distance myself from it.
“Just wait, in a couple years I’ll be living my best life.” I raise my glass.
“To y/n’s best life,” the table cheers.
On the walk home from brunch Gray and I swing hands in between us. I want to bring up his passive comments but it feels stuck in my throat. His hand feels like lead in mine.
“Gray-“
“I’m sorry. I got a bit salty at brunch,” Gray admits. I nearly deflate completely with the sigh that comes out of me.
“That’s okay,” I kiss his cheek. His hand feels like an extension of mine again. “I know there’s a lot of things we don’t talk about, I know my job doesn’t make you happy. But I appreciate that you still support me and keep the peace even when I can be a bit of a dick sometimes.”
“Hey,” Gray stops and tugs me to him. “I love you. Nothing changes that.”
“I love you too,” he kisses me with the same passion he did last night, our first intimate night after a couple months. With the urgency in his kiss I can tell it wouldn’t be another couple until the next.
***
We get back in around 8 and I happily kick off the dress and boots I wore to dinner to snuggle in my pjs. I watch Gray remove his contacts as I comb through my hair.
“I still can’t believe that ending,” Gray says to me in the mirror.
“Same, I feel like everyone’s kept it so hush I didn’t even know there was going to be a plot twist!”
“I kind of saw it coming-“
“You did not!” I flick Gray. “Why do guys love to brag about seeing a movie ending coming.”
“It’s our roman empire,” he grins.
“You’re using that in the wrong context,” I roll my eyes. “Josie would be so disappointed. Oh I didn’t even turn my phone back on after the movie, Josie had texted me something.”
“Just leave it,” Gray calls out as I go back into the room to get my purse. “Let’s keep our phones off, stay unplugged tonight.”
“Too late,” I grin as my phone powers on already.
I know Gray stayed nervous about any call I got during our down time because he always thought it was Harry. To be honest I was surprised he hadn’t bothered me more than asking for a password yesterday.
As my services connect my phone vibrates with a dozen oncoming messages.
“Y/n,” I hear Grayson say in warning but my eyes stay glued to the screen that flicker with notifications.
I look up once they settle, my eyes are as wide as saucers and Gray’s watch me through the mirror, heavy and resigned.
“Please, ignore it,” Gray pleads just once.
“I just…I need to know what it’s about.” I plead back.
“It’s going to spiral,” he warns. “You can’t just look y/n you’re gonna get involved.”
“What if it’s an emergency? He wouldn’t message like this unless it’s an emergency!”
“Like the documents on Josie’s birthday? Or the hospital appointment that one bank holiday? Or his empty fridge on-“
“I get it. But Gray I have 14 notifications. And it’s from his manager too it’s gotta be an-“
“You have a life y/n!” Gray turns around quick like a pistol whip, I stumble back into the doorframe. “He has other people in his life other than you they can figure it out! Why do you keep putting your job, this man, before me? Before us?!”
“I’m not trying to! I’m not!” I stutter.
“What’s the worst case scenario huh? He tries you, and you don’t answer because you’re off. And he’ll find someone else to help—those type always have someone else.”
“You don’t get it-“
“I get it.” Gray lowers his volume. He looks around for his glasses and slides them on. “I get it clearly. You’re just scared you’re replaceable to Harry Styles.”
His words stun me a little. All I can do is watch as he puts on jeans and grabs his phone.
“Do you ever wonder who else in your life’s replaceable?” Gray says before he slams our door shut.
I sink back and my mind races with everything Grayson just said. I was awful, he must feel even more awful and I-
My phone vibrates. Jeff.
“H-hi?” I answer.
“What the fuck y/n! I’ve been trying to reach you for the last 2 hours-“
“My phone was off-“
“Have you even gotten any of the messages we’ve left you-“
“I’m not working today-“
“Obviously,” He cuts me off for the hundredth time. “Harry’s in Vienna alone with god knows who!”
I don’t point out the contradiction in his sentence.
“Isn’t Riley supposed to be with him?”
“Riley quit.”
“What?! When?”
“Today. Apparently the sneak’s been cozying up with one of Harry’s supposed friends. He’s left us high and dry!”
“Is that why you’re calling me?” My confusion grows.
“Jesus no. Just look at your bloody messages.”
I put him on speaker and check the link to the photos he sent me. I gasp.
Harry looks a mess, one in a bar and another right outside it. With a questionable choice of friends.
“He’s not answering his phone,” Jeff continues. “Nobody can reach him and Riley decided to courier the stupid phone back to the penthouse so we don’t have access to his gps. But you do. That’s why I’m trying to reach you y/n. You’ve gotta go there and get him home.”
“Get him home? He’s in another country!”
“Yes, for that niche fucking awards show. You gotta get him back to his hotel and sober him up. We paid some fucker way too much money not to leak these photos and I don’t want to find out some other fucker took more.”
“Isn’t this something his publicist should be doing? Or you?” I’m starting to get angry. Why was Harry like a big fucking toddler that I had to go get when he was misbehaving. “I took the weekend off-“
“Listen. Y/n. We will pay you 5 times your rate if you just get on a plane and sort him out. I’m in Iceland right now. On holiday! Nobody is paying me 5 times the amount to deal with this and I don’t get back to the UK until tomorrow.”
“His publicis-“
“And Graham is the one that caught all this but he doesn’t fly out until tomorrow. So that leaves you. Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”
I think about Gray, should I call him? Let him know? Fuck. Fuck Harry and his ability to ruin my whole life.
“I don’t have a choice here do I?” I ask wearily.
“Sure you do, one gets you a nice pay check. The other doesn’t.”
“Fuck,” I swear just loud enough for him to hear. “Do you know when the next flight is.”
“There’s a private jet that can leave within the hour I’ll text you the address can you make it?”
I map it. 30 or so minutes away. I look around my room—I had my emergency duffle with my passport the Harry Survival Guide told me to keep so I didn’t need to pack much.
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
***
“Out of all the fucking nights,” I swear as I take the elevator down. The flight had been under 2 hours and I’d kept my eyes glued to Harry’s phone locator. He’d moved one location so far. The hotel wasn’t too far from this location so I drop my bags off on the en-suite and head out into the beautiful city.
It’s buzzing despite the hour and I wish it was a calmer trip so I could take pictures and soak in the beauty of Vienna.
Instead I trudge on to the little dot on my phone and avoid thinking about Gray and how much he would love this city. And how badly I betrayed him tonight.
What to do when he won’t answer the phone: track his gps, get good at lock-picking and don’t be shy to call whoever he’s out with to get ahold of him. Harry not answering his phone unexpectedly usually means bad decisions.
I find Harry in a kitschy club but it’s not easy. In the flashes of blue and purple lights I sort through all the men about the same height as him. None of them are him.
I knew he was here. I scan the room a second time, he had to be in one of the private sections.
I walk the perimeter until I see a flash of a familiar laugh.
“Harry!” I shout but a man in a suit steps in front of me.
“Private area,” he says in a rough accent.
“I’m his assistant I need to see him!” I point to Harry but he just steps in my way again. I shout Harry’s name and on the second try he looks up.
“Heyy!” He lights up and picks his way over the people sitting around him. He loops his arm around the brick wall in front of me. “That’s y/n! Y/n you came let her in!”
“Thank you,” I shoot the man a dirty look even though I knew he was just doing his job. He was the difference between a PR disaster and no disaster. “Harry we-“
“Have a drink!” He slurs. My heart quickens when I get a glimpse of the table with an assortment of drugs all over it. “Relax. C’mon c’mon!”
Harry pours me champagne and leads me by the hand to where he was just sitting. A couple shift away to make room for me but I stay standing as Harry sinks into the cushion.
“Mr. Styles we-“
“Ms. Y/L/N,” Harry says seriously before bursting into laughter. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this uninhibited before. One part of me is nervous and another part finds it intriguing.
He tugs me down and I tip into the couch, the champagne sloshing over the rim. What the-
“Relax,” he whispers into my ear. It goes straight to my stomach. “Have some champagne and enjoy the night!”
“I want to-“
“Your fiancé won’t let you drink with me? Is that the issue here?”
“No,” I bite. “I am taking you back-“
“I,” Harry sits up and hovers over me. “I am not speaking to you until you drink! Good god woman, lean back! Relax! What do Americans say take a chill pill?”
“I don’t need a chill pill.”
Harry mimes zipping his lips closed.
I roll my eyes and bring the champagne to my lips to take a mock sip but he must anticipate this. Using his finger he tips the glass even further. Half of it drips down my chin.
“Agh!” I jerk the glass away but Harry just laughs. “This is so not funny.”
He leans in smiling. I expect him to stop but he continues moving into me until his lips are on my jaw. His mouth coasts over my skin before he buries his head in my neck where the champagne had dripped down leaving a pool of heat-
“Harry!” I jerk away and push my hands into his chest to prop him up. His eyes are half-closed but as intense as ever as he looks into mine.
What the fuck. What the fuck just happened.
My hands are shaking, steady only because of the force of Harry pressing into them. I feel the tears springing to my eyes, why the fuck did he just…
“Sorry,” he smiles, his finger brushing my cheek. “Y’had some champagne there.”
It was nothing, I tell myself. He’s drunk and taken god knows what. He’s out of his mind. And he was going for the champagne, not me.
I loosen my arms but he comes back towards me again.
“Fuck this,” I mutter. I push him back into the sofa and get up. “We are going back to the hotel. Now.”
“Just stay a little longer here. It’s life. I’m bloody famous!” His hands come around my waist to pull me towards him but I dig my heel in.
I grab him by the shirt and haul his lanky body up, it’s like lifting a slab of marble. We nearly fall into the table but I catch us on my back leg in time.
I get us outside and call a taxi. Harry sways into me and I help keep him up.
“S’cold,” he complains.
“It’s really not.” I look back to him but he doesn’t look good. I lean him against the wall gently. “Harry look at me.”
He eyes stay closed but his head bobbles and he starts to tip forward again.
“Harry!” I nearly slap him. Instead I push him against the wall and use my body to keep him propped upright. I grab his face in my hands. “Harry look at me you’re scaring me.”
“You’re scaring me,” he slurs.
I shake his face a bit and try to pry open an eye which makes him laugh.
“I was alone,” he mumbles.
“I am not carrying you into or out of that car so you better stay conscious.” I tap his cheek.
“You’re no fun.” He says and I ignore him. “I was alone but you came.”
“Not out of any choice,” I mumble.
Our taxi arrives and I’m shaking him every few minutes to keep him conscious. At the hotel I get some help to his room when they recognize his face.
I drop him in bed with a sigh of relief. He looked pathetic like that. And I wanted to cry out of frustration.
I take his shoes off and then his shirt, deciding to keep his trousers on. I leave a bottle of water on his bedside with painkillers and head to the bathroom. For the second time tonight I get ready for bed.
I scrub the sticky champagne out of my neck and block out the feeling of his lips on me. Block out the confusing feelings that arose.
I grab my phone and pray for a text from Gray but there’s nothing. I update Jeff and he sends me a thumbs up. All that and just a fucking thumbs up.
***
Still no text from Gray the next morning.
Harry’s still in bed when I get up. I crack on and order both of us breakfast, ordering the most expensive things just to get something out of being here.
Harry wakes to the smell of coffee, groaning as soon as he sits up. I don’t know what he took last night but it serves him right.
“Y/n?” He sounds just as confused as last night.
“In the flesh,” I nearly growl.
“I thought Riley’s s’pose to be here?”
“So you do remember I’m supposed to be off all weekend.” I can’t hold back on the sass. I’m too mad at everyone.
“Yeah…what?”
“Riley quit.”
“Riley…quit? That’s why you’re here?”
“No.” I want to throw my cup of coffee in his face. “I’m here because you weren’t answering your phone last night and the only updates we were getting were compromising pictures of you absolutely pissed.”
“You sound like my publicist.”
“Your publicist had to pay the photographer off.”
“It couldn’t be that bad,” Harry swings his legs over the side of the bed and winces. He notices the painkillers and pops them. “Did you undress me?”
I pull the photos up on my phone and show them to him. He throws the phone down on the bed after a glance.
“Okay so he sent you to get me back to the hotel?”
“Jeff called me.”
“Jeff’s on holiday.”
“So was I.” My anger brews over. “I had 2 fucking days off Harry and I couldn’t even get that! You had to go to Vienna and get pappd doing the stupidest shit and of course I have to come in and save your ass because I can’t get any time these days to just be!”
He groans as he gets up and shuffles towards me. My heart picks up speed but he simply reaches for the coffee and takes a big gulp. The silence stretches out after my outburst and I wait with an anxious anger for what comes out of his mouth.
“You didn’t have to come. I could have lived with the consequences of being an idiot last night-“
“Jeff didn’t give me a choic-“
“There’s always a choice,” he holds up his finger to my face, hovering an inch from my lips. “Jeff can’t do shite. If he fired you he needs my final say. So again, I didn’t ask you to come here.”
Fuck him, I think. Does he really think I could have said no and gone on with my night? Since it didn’t come out of his mouth, he vanishes any accountability? He’d totally at fault here.
“Secondly,” he wasn’t finished I guess and his eyes are like laser beams into my soul. “It’s Mr. Styles.”
Anything I was about to mouth off on disappears. Like a sinkhole it all collapses below the surface and I’m left feeling as I always did—humiliated.
“Now,” Harry puts his cup down. “That’s not to say thank you for coming to my rescue yesterday. I don’t remember a lot of it so I’m not sure what happened but I’m sure it wasn’t pretty.”
I don’t answer. I bite my tongue until it falls right off and I can swallow it. I wish I could also swallow the memory of his lips that spring to mind.
“It is a Sunday, if you’d like to take it off feel free. The stylist team is coming around 4 to get me ready for tonight.”
“Well, you’ll need me to coordinate this evening since that was the point of Riley being here,” my voice comes out smoother than I felt.
“Ok,” he dismisses me. “I need a shower.”
He leaves and I clench my fists to keep from throwing everything within range at him. How could he flip the script like this? Turn my life upside down and then act like he did nothing wrong?
I go to my phone and hover over Grayson to call him but i have a notification from him. He’s sent me a message, it’s a link.
I click it. It’s a small article in a tabloid about Harry Styles and his mystery woman. You can’t tell it’s me but our pose looks intimate from last night—him leaning against the wall with my knee in between his legs and my body propping him up while my hands hold his face.
But Grayson knows its me.
I get my other phone and message it in the group with Harry’s publicist.
He responds casually: It’ll blow over don’t worry. Can’t see your face plus romantic is better than looking fucked up like the other pics.
It would blow over for Harry but not for me.
I try to call Grayson but he doesn’t pick up.
I close the room door and bury myself in bed, aching so hard it was hard to believe I was still breathing. It felt like an end, I know I could talk it through with Grayson and explain once he saw the other photos. But something feels like it died tonight.
***
“Y/n?” A voice sings outside my door. “Helloo?”
I feel hungover as I open my crusty eyes. I’m in an unfamiliar room and-
“Hello hello?”
I sit up. I was in a hotel suite and I had to help get Harry to his show. Shit.
I look at the time, it’s nearly 5.
“Sorry!” I shout at whoever was behind the door. “Sorry one sec!”
One look in the mirror and I know I had to throw my hair up. I swish some mouthwash around and exit to the lounge.
“Hi,” a woman I’ve never met smiles kindly at me.
“Sorry. Did you need something from me?”
“Yes,” she takes my arm and leads me towards where Harry was getting his hair done. He looks amused as he watches me. “I need you here. We need to get you ready.”
“Oh no,” I say but sit where I’m told by this commanding woman. “Oh I’m just helping coordinate so you just focus on Mr.-“
“Y/n,” Harry’s deep voice cuts me off. “Riley comes with me to these things when Jeff isn’t around. Since neither are here you’re joining me and Graham.”
I look for his publicist but I’m told he was running late. Great.
“I didn’t sign up for this,” I say as the woman takes a wet wipe to my face. “I thought I had Sunday off.”
“You reminded me you’re replacing Riley,” Harry says. “And I got the team to get you a few things but I don’t know your size. I’m sure one of them will fit. Kit can tailor it if you need.”
“Wha…” my face is positioned to the side and cream is dotted all over. I shut my mouth and glance at Harry which becomes a glare when I realize he’s enjoying this.
“Lighten up Y/N, it’s not the end of the world.”
He didn’t know. It was the end of my world.
***
The red carpet or whatever this imitation of it was is a sensory nightmare. Graham had explained on the car over I was to stick to the shadows with him and his security detail. I don’t know why they stuck me in this beautifully tailored pantsuit just to be in the shadows. But apparently I could keep it so I was happy about that.
While Harry gets his name shouted and photos taken I watch from the side, hiding behind Graham’s shoulder so I don’t get caught in any pictures. The flashes still make my head hurt.
Again, we stand off to the side as Harry gets interviewed by labels I recognized and others that must be local. One woman has the nerve to ask,
“So Harry the whole internet is dying to know who your mystery woman is. Would you like to give our viewers a hint?”
I stiffen and Graham glances my way with a warning look. He’d already prepped Harry in the car but I couldn’t believe someone would be so bold as to ask. But that was show business.
“Ah you know what the media’s like, all out of context. I love the theories especially the one about this being my secret fiancé but I would like the viewers to know I’m not engaged, very much single, and not to believe everything you see online.”
I hold my breath as Harry answers but he’s a natural, I had to admit. He went off script a little—he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge the content of the photo, but he did so with grace and humour. Wow. I could learn a few things.
Graham relaxes beside me once the reporter laughs and asks if he sees himself not being single any time soon. When we finally move on Graham wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulder and gives it a shake.
“You did good kid,” he kisses his cheek with all the leftover adrenaline from the carpet. “I’ll see you in there. I see some friends I want to catch up with first.”
Then it’s just Harry and I, and his shadow of a security detail who Harry dismisses while he’s inside the room.
“So I guess now’s the part you go to your seat?” I ask. There was no What to do at an Awards Show so I was clueless and I decided I would create one myself to keep the legacy of all these dos and don’ts.
“It is,” Harry looks…nervous? His eyes flicker around the room and his jaw twitches. I do a sweep of my own, there’s a lot of people I don’t recognize and those I do I’m just about dying trying to stay casual.
“I thought that reporter was going to propose after you cleared up how single you were.”
“Hm?” Harry looks at me—in heels I was finally near eye-level to him. His gaze clears as he takes in what I said and I consider it a win getting him back down to earth. “Oh. Her, yeah she was cheeky with those questions wasn’t she?”
His smile makes me stomach dip. “Yeah she slipped them in so expertly. I thought ‘I have to take some tips from her’. And you, you were good dodging the question.”
“I didn’t lie,” Harry’s now fully engaged in our conversation. I give myself a pat on the back. “It was just you and I am still single.”
Just you. I fake a laugh, “Yeah. That photo is proof that I’m stronger than I look because you were deadweight and I managed to get you to bed y’know that.”
His green eyes flicker up and down my face for a beat. “I know that. I…hope that picture didn’t get you into any trouble.”
I look away, unsure how to answer. He brings a hand to my arm. “I can talk to someone if it helps?”
“Oh no,” my cheeks flush. “No I don’t think that would make anything better but thank you. I…appreciate the-“
“Harry? Oh my god it’s you!”
I retreat in a quarter of a second, invisible once again for Harry to shine with his colleagues. It’s a singer I recognize but I only remember her stage name, Dragon something. I watch them embrace and I try to wind up the spool of thread I’d released when Harry showed some kindness.
I think I had some issues, I became unrecognizable every time Harry was nice for a moment. I had to remember that it was temporary and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross.
Yesterday flashes into my mind. God, was it just yesterday?
Harry starts walking with the other musician arm in arm. It comes to me as I follow why I knew her. There were rumours shortly before I interviewed with Harry about seeing him on the town with this woman. So they had history. Of course.
By the time Graham joins me in our seats I’ve become part of the wallpaper and I feel like I’m being torn away when he acknowledges me to ask if everything had gone ok. I stay invisible for the rest of the evening and I try to remember that’s how it would be.
***
We’re sat on the tarmac for the ride home and I try to refresh my messages over and over but Gray hasn’t responded after I’d told him we had to talk. He was stupidly good at the cold shoulder and I felt like a needy bitch whenever he got like this.
“Could I get a water y/n?” Harry asks from across the aisle. He has his head tipped back and he looks awful—consequences of an after party where he drank himself silly again and relied on me to get him home. I did make friends with some other PAs who were roped to the party so that was the only highlight.
“Sure.” I go to the front of the jet where Graham is typing away on his laptop, oblivious to the rest of us. I grab Harry a coffee too. “It’ll help with the hangover.”
Harry accepts it graciously and I go back to refreshing my phone.
I thought he’d fallen asleep an hour into the flight until he unbuckles his seat and slips in beside me.
“Can I get your phone?” He holds his hand out.
“Why?” I ask suspiciously.
“You’re driving me crazy refreshing that thing it’s like you’re getting paid per refresh.”
I was lost in a trance doing it. I put the phone facedown on my lap but he takes it from me.
“Hey-“
“I’m keeping this until we land. I promise you if you haven’t gotten any messages by now you won’t get any at all.”
His patronizing tone wriggles something loose and I have to look away, out the window, so he doesn’t see the tears.
“My offer still stands,” he says quietly after my silence. I shake my head.
“Thanks,” my voice wavers. “It won’t help. He just gets…quiet. Any time there’s an issue he just goes quiet and it drives me f…crazy. I feel crazy.”
“You kind of look it.” I’m ready to throw him a dirty look but Harry’s smiling when I look at him. I was rarely on the receiving end of such a handsome look that I forget I was going to be mad. “What? You do, hunched over your phone pressing down over and over. My neck hurts just looking at you.”
I sigh and leans back into the seat, trying to straighten myself out.
“Sorry,” I sniffle. “I just need some sort of proof of life from him. He knows it drives me crazy when he ignores me but he does it anyway. He could be dead for all I know. Anyway, I’ll stop now you can give me my phone back.”
“Mmm no,” Harry pats the pocket he put it in. “You listen to me. It stays here.”
I don’t fight him. It was for my own good.
He sits with me for the rest of the flight. It should be uncomfortable but having another person’s presence beside me—knowing there was a shoulder pressing against mine, makes me feel a little less lonely today.
He probably didn’t intend that, I rethink the thought. Harry wasn’t thoughtful like that, he was probably just too lazy to move back.
We take the car home when we land but Harry tells me to take the rest of the Monday off even though it was already 2.
“And y/n,” Harry stops me before I exit the car where it stalls outside my complex.
“Yes?” I wait for the other shoe to drop—I had the day off but…
“If he knows it drives you crazy, and he truly loves you, he should respect you and give you a chance to talk. You deserve that.”
My breath catches at the unexpected words. I feel my defences go up.
“You’ll work it out,” he rushes on when I don’t respond.
I’m left feeling slightly reassured and mostly confused.
“Thank you,” I look at him a beat too long and it feels awkward so I scramble out and head up. To someone I hope was willing to listen like Harry said.
***
Like a baby calf out of the womb, my relationship stays on shaky grounds. It feels like building a foundation all over again after thinking that was already done with, but Hurricane Harry had caused a lot of damage.
Now 9 months into my new job I wasn’t always so on edge. But I was busy.
With no Riley, the team had decided to hold off on hiring anyone new and my work load had tripled. I’d brought it up casually and just as casually Harry had let me know I would be compensated.
I thought about Vienna a lot. Things were done and said there that should change our dynamic but didn’t. Not much. Harry was still an ass, he still demanded most of my time, and I still suffered from major anxiety about my life falling apart.
So maybe I was still on edge, just about different things.
“G’morning,” Gray whispers to me. I wanted to sleep in and cuddle with my fiancé but I’d already snoozed my alarm and I knew I had to get to work. I had errands to run all over town.
“Morning,” I burrow my head into his warm body. “I don’t wanna work.”
He kisses the top of my head. “How about I join you on some of those errands you mentioned? We can get coffee?”
I’m suddenly excited about going to work.
Gray laughs when I climb over him and kiss him like a lunatic, and we’ve been together too long to be embarrassed about morning breath or pillow face. I can’t believe I almost lost him.
The day is perfect as Gray and I move around town doing odd bits. We get to grab lunch together and I’m so glad what a good sport Gray had been about it all since I’d forced him to carry any heavy items.
“I’ll see you for dinner,” Gray drops me off at Harry’s. We linger in the lobby for a few minutes. “I’m cooking.”
“Mmm can’t wait,” I kiss him before taking the load from him. “Thank you for coming with me today.”
“I had fun, I hate to admit it.” He grins as I walk backwards to the elevator. He takes my breath away.
Grayson’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something but I collide into a body behind me before he can warn me.
“Oh shit sorry I-“ I turn and Harry stands behind me with Jeff walking off the elevator. He was probably headed to the studio and I was late. Dammnit!
“Y/N,” Harry says.
“I’m so. Sorry,” I look between Gray, Jeff, and Harry. Do I introduce everyone? Do I apologize and rush to drop these things off so I could join them like I’m supposed to?
Jeff makes it easy, walking away on his phone. Then it’s Harry and Gray.
“I’m sorry I meant to be upstairs five minutes ago.” I tell Harry who’s expression is hard to read. “Uhm…this is Grayson my fiance I don’t think y’all have met he was just dropping me off since I had my hands full. Um. Gray this is…well you know who this is I-“
My blabbering is cut short as Harry steps forward to shake hands and I nearly die at the steely look Gray gives him. Also, why the fuck did I say y’all?! I wasn’t even southern.
“Grayson Duran yeah? Nice to meet you,” Harry says. I’m surprised he knows his full name. He must have asked his friends.
“Yeah,” Gray drops his hand. “The infamous Harry Styles—I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Likewise,” Harry says, glancing at me. Why would he say that. “As much as I’d love to chat, y/n you’re late and we’re heading to the studio. Can you give all that to the concierge?”
“Yes,” I nod. “Have you got-“
“I grabbed my things yes. I’ll see you in the car.”
Harry nods to Gray and leaves an air of cologne and annoyance behind. Gray and I lock eyes and I burn with embarrassment.
“What a dick,” Gray mumbles.
I’m offended, wait, why am I offended? It’s not like Harry wasn’t a dick.
“Yeah, I gotta go sorry babe.” I rush to the concierge and explain the delivery.
“Y’all?” Gray asks when I rush back to him.
“I know I know,” I cringe. “It just came out. I gotta go but thank you so much for today. Loveyoubye!”
I give him a quick peck and rush out, nearly collapsing into Harry’s car.
“Sorry about that, being late. That won’t happen again I meant to be there before you left-“
“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” Harry says stiffly, staring out the window. He was a dick, Gray was right. But why was I so offended at him saying that right after meeting him?
Things felt so confusing these days and I just wanted time to catch my breath and figure things out. A few more weeks and I’d get some time off for the holidays at least, I was looking forward to that.
***
Even though I planned the intimate holiday party and spent countless hours on the phone making sure every detail would be perfect I can’t help but criticize it as I join.
“Maybe I should have gone with a live band,” I mutter as someone takes mine and Grayson’s coats. Tonight I was supposed to shut my brain off as Harry said, and enjoy the party as a guest. But that part was hard to shut off after nearly 10 months of re-wiring it.
Grayson was tough to convince but finally he’d agreed to come to the party. Things were mostly back to normal with us. I tried to be home by 7 most nights and didn’t talk about work too much.
But sometimes it felt like a volcano lived inside me with how much I had to compartmentalize and keep in and when times got really tough, I wanted to spew everywhere.
“Josie told me your mom’s doing bohemian Christmas?” I ask Gray as we hover by the foyer. I’d just had a catchup with her yesterday now that she was finished exams. “Do you know what that means.”
“Mum’s crazy,” Gray sighs. His relationship with her was always followed by a sigh, an eye roll, a heavy resignation for who she was. I never quite understood it.
Josie, on the other hand, loved their loud and free-spirited mother. As for me, I thought she was the most interesting woman I ever met and we’d gotten along instantly.
“She’s always got some new idea up her sleeve,” I try to make things more positive. “What do you want a bet it’s going to be vegan?”
“I don’t bet when I know that’s what she’s serving. That’s why we do dad’s for lunch and hers for dinner. We’re too stuffed once we get there to care what she’s serving.”
“Remember when I tried to get you to go vegan and-“
“Y/N! Hi,” I’m interrupted by a friendly face in the crowd and end up chatting with people I’d worked with the last few months. We introduce our partners and they chat but I keep an eye on Grayson, in case anything changes.
I watch Harry’s friends trickle in and Gray lights up when he sees Liam and a few other people he trained.
I flit around the room with ease after that, knowing Gray had friends to keep him company. I make sure drinks are filled and catering is setting up. Until a hand stops me.
“You’re not supposed to be working tonight,” Harry reminds me.
“Yes. Right. Well…”
“Y/N,” he warns.
“Okay!” I throw my hands up. “Not working, here look I’m enjoying myself!”
I pick up a random drink and take a big sip. Champagne. Suddenly I remember the last time I drank champagne in front of Harry and I nearly cough it back up.
“Ugh,” Harry hands me a napkin and I try not to bristle. “What happened? Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I clear my throat. “Yeah sorry just…just not a fan of champagne.”
We lock eyes and I’m gripped with the sudden and very real possibility that Harry may actually remember parts of that night.
When his eyes flicker down to my neck, it’s confirmed. Oh god.
“Well! I’m off to find a better drink!” I turn too quickly, nearly taking out the caterer who was setting up hors d’œuvres on the table. “Sorry!”
Oh my god. Harry remembered.
Did he remember this whole time? Was he pretending to forget that night? Did he ever remember the moment randomly in my presence like I did?
I had to stop freaking out. It had been months!
Where was Grayson.
I locate my fiancé in a random group but his eyes are already on me. I raise a hand and he smiles, raising a finger to tell me he’d be there in a moment.
My mind races in the meantime, wondering if I should mention the incident to Harry and tell him I was fine. Or maybe that proved the opposite. No. I should just keep it unspoken like we had this whole time. Oh my god!
“Quite a turnout,” Grayson comes back to me. Two drinks in his hand. “I saw you talking to Harry why did you look so scared? Did he say something?”
“Oh!” Of course Gray saw. “No. I just…almost choked on my champagne the fizz y’know? And then I didn’t want to make a scene so I left.”
“Hm,” Gray wraps his hand around my waist. “Hey I see a mistletoe I’m going to nudge you in that direction.”
“You don’t need a mistletoe to kiss me babe.”
“It’s supposed to be romantic.”
I let him lead me to it and he kisses me with a knee-bending passion.
“Woah,” I feel dazed when we finally part. “That was fucking romantic.”
“Yeah?” He grins.
“Excuse me!” Harry’s voice rings over the crowd and the room hushes slowly. “Uh hiya! Thank you all for coming tonight and making me feel like I have friends during the holidays.”
A quiet laugh rumbles over the crowd. Harry looks magnetic on his makeshift podium, he’s in a cozy red sweater that I know cost more than my month’s salary and a collar peeks out from under it. He’s got on navy slacks and tinsel thrown over his shoulder. I’d bought that sweater, I remember. But he managed to pull the rest of the outfit together well.
“…a few people.” He continues. I’d zoned out. “My manager Jeff of course—this year has been a roller coaster and you’ve managed it all. Charlie, Claire, Niji, Elin, Sarah, and Mitch. We had a ball playing our hidden shows this fall but we have so much planned for the year ahead. I’m beyond grateful that you all came into my life and we get to make music together!”
A few whoops in the crowd and the people he mention raise their hands and shout out their own praises to Harry.
Harry thanks a few more people and says some more kind words. I don’t expect him to zero in on me.
“Last, but not least folks, I want to thank somebody who joined my team this year. She’s seen a lot—she’s been in the trenches my friends, she has. But she’s stuck with me. She’s planned everything tonight so really you’re all here because of her. Y/N, please make yourself known and everyone should give her a thank you if you talk to her tonight for tonight.”
Oh god. I am as bright as Harry’s sweater and with every single eye turning on me I’m sure I also turn every shade of the rainbow. I paste on a grin that feels like I’m the Joker and hope it looks normal.
I wave awkwardly and make eyes with Harry across the room who looks like he’s having a ball putting me in the centre of everyone’s attention. I was really going to wring his neck but he winks at me and finally turns the attention back to him with a few closing words, then starting the music and food.
“Am I alive?” I ask Gray beside me whose hand had dropped from my waist during the last few minutes. “I think I died of embarrassment and turned into the ghost of Christmas’ present.”
I turn to Gray and he looks around me. “Hello? Is someone talking to me?”
“Gray!” I push his shoulder and he laughs. “I hated every second of that.”
“I know,” Gray laughs again. “You hate attention.”
“I do! I swear Harry was up there gloating didn’t you notice? Ugh I hate him.”
Gray’s expression shutters for a second. “Yeah, he definitely knew what he was doing.”
“Y/N, quite a shoutout.” A voice says from my right. It’s Liam who I hadn’t seen myself in ages. I go in for a hug and hope my embarrassment clears away as we catch up.
As the night goes on I ease up a little, enjoy the mingling and the drinks. Especially the drinks. The evening’s embarrassment and everyone coming up to me knowing my name was hell so I drink to keep up the liquid courage.
Coming out of the toilets for the tenth time that night with all the drinks I was downing, I notice a light on in the room.
I go to it, in case it was a guest in a place they shouldn’t be.
I don’t spot him at first, flicking off the lights only to see a shadow move. Harry.
“Oh! It’s you. Is everything alright?” I lean in the doorway. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in this office actually. He always hovered outside it like I was now.
“Yeah yeah, just came for some air.” He walks up to me and I step out of the way so he can leave. But he stays just inside so I move back to my spot.
“Air? In the smallest room here?”
“Yeah,” he smiles like he’s been caught. “I was looking for you. We ran out of ice I just don’t remember where you stored the rest.”
“Well I’m not working remember? So I don’t know.”
“Touché. I guess the guests will just have a shite time with their lukewarm drinks.”
Ugh. He knew me too well.
“Fine. I’ll get the bag. By the way, that wasn’t funny. What you did earlier.” I put my hands on my hips, ready to give him a piece of my mind for embarrassing me.
“What!? It wasn’t meant to be funny. I’m expressing my gratitude y/n.”
“In front of a whole room of random people who are all looking at me? You know I would have hated it!”
“Let’s just say I’m trying to get you out of your shell,” Harry teases. He smells of his usual cologne, the fresh soap he used, and scotch. I spot the empty glass on my desk.
“I’m plenty out of my shell thank you. You know, you could have just said it to me privately. That would have meant more.”
His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He inhales sharply and turns around.
“What?” I ask his back.
“Nothing.” He turns back around. “You do good work y/n, people should know.”
Now it’s my turn to go quiet. I only seemed to do this when Harry was nice. Because otherwise I knew how mean he could be. Why couldn’t there just be a balance.
“Why are you so randomly nice to me?”
Oops. All those drinks made for some loose lips.
“What?” He’s taken aback.
“Yeah,” I feel fired up now that it’s out. “You ignore me half the time—not that I expect to be bffs but at least a hello now and then would be nice. Then when you do talk it’s grunts and clipped answers. You’re pretty mean to me! And suddenly out of nowhere it’s like-like this 180 and you’re really nice. And praising me in front of a crowd. What’s up with that?”
His expression retreats the more I talk and I know I’ve dug myself into a hole. Forget the whole speech just now I’m pretty sure I’ve just written my own termination notice.
“I have to be,” he says simply after an awkward pause.
“Have to?” I demand. “You have to be mean to me?”
The long deleted Dos and Dont list when I first joined flashes through my mind. Did that have something to do with it?
“Because when I spoke to Riley that one time for drinks, he told me you weren’t always this mean. So is it me? You just said to a whole crowd how helpful I am so I just don’t get why you’re so mean sometimes!”
“What else did Riley say?” Harry hangs on to that.
“I…a lot I dunno! Riley faffs a lot. He’s also a creep but that’s neither here nor there I-“
“What do you mean he’s a creep?” The room feels even smaller as he zeroes in.
“I-“ I try to stutter something to change the subject but he stays on, asking me again. “It’s nothing. He was drunk and he made a pass at me-“
“He did?! Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s zero space between the two of us now.
“Why would I? It was something that happened outside work hours, plus you warned me and I didn’t listen-“
“Y/n you should have told me,” he swears. “I let that little shite get away with way too much.”
“Yeah well he’s not the only person working here who’s made a drunken pass at me so let’s not make it a big deal okay?”
I guess I wasn’t holding back.
Harry closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. One mississippi two mississippi three-
“You’re right.”
My heart pounds in my chest. I want to get out of this room, find Gray, and stay in the light. Because this small, dimly lit space was becoming too intimate. And yet, I can’t seem to will myself to move.
“I am?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. It doesn’t cut it—what I did was incredibly wrong. Being drunk shouldn’t be an excuse and I promise I don’t go around doing that to everyone-“
“I know,” I say before thinking. It was weird of Harry to do but I never felt unsafe with him. I understood what he was trying to say.
“You can make it a big deal if you want. It shouldn’t have happened. It won’t happen again.”
I feel weird having the roles reversed—Harry apologizing to me. Promising not to do something again. I recognize what he’s doing is right but I don’t know what to do with myself. My breathing’s shallow with Harry so close to me, practically hovering over me. I should’ve worn higher heels to really equal the field.
“Thanks,” I finally manage. It’s low and raspy and I barely get in enough air to speak it. He doesn’t respond.
We stay in the tableau, our breathing irregular, in between a single decision that both of us knew wouldn’t end well. Yet neither of us are strong enough to end the frozen display.
“You clean up nice,” he says, eyes never leaving mine as he compliments my getup. I’d worn a simple cowl-necked slip dress and strappy shoes with my hair in an up-do. I was definitely underdressed after seeing the other guests but I believe Harry means it.
“Don’t look as haggard as I usually do, you mean?” I find my voice again. I barely have to whisper for him to hear.
“You never look haggard,” Harry says as he brings his hand up and traces the curve of my dress strap. My heartbeat was loud and surely showing through my dress.
“You should go,” Harry adds in a whisper.
My head feels like it’s filled with carbonation as I nod in agreement. This was bad. With a capital B. I had to go.
“I…should go.” I repeat. Slowly I inch sideways on the wall and Harry leans away. We stare at each other for another long moment before I scurry away, my heart in my throat and my guilt where my heart should be.
“Don’t forget the ice,” I hear Harry call out from the room. Miraculously this is exactly when Grayson turns the corner.
“Y/n? Where were you?”
“Oh I-“ I imagined I looked fucked up. Because I felt high and out of my mind. The white lie comes out, attached to a thread that unstitches something within. “I drank too much, so I was in the toilet.”
“Oh,” Gray looks relieved and I’m sinking with guilt. Technically I did nothing wrong. I didn’t even have feelings for Harry. But whatever physical magnetism he seemed to have nearly made me do something I’d seriously regret. “Did I hear someone say something about ice?”
“Yeah!” I laugh and it comes out like I had never learned how. “I just bumped into Harry, we ran out of ice. So much for not working huh?”
“At least everyone knows how hard you work,” he jokes.
I stick to Gray’s side for the rest of the night, not touching a single drop of alcohol. I had to forget everything in that room ever happened if I wanted to keep my job and my sanity. I had to be a better person, the devil was handsome and I had to stop playing into his tricks.
I call it quits a few hours later when I notice Gray low on energy.
“I’ll get our coats,” I tell him. The relief on his face is palpable.
I go through where the spare closet was but hear voices in Harry’s darkened room. The door’s open so I go to investigate. I regret it instantly.
Harry’s inside with a woman, I don’t see much of her as she’s on the bed but I know it’s Harry with the tone of his voice as they exchange words.
My stomach drops and it’s like an accident on the side of the road, I’m mortified but I can’t look away.
I watch him kiss her and I feel like I’m sinking through the floorboards.
“Oh!” The woman notices me when she turns her head and pulls the sheet up. She whispers, “you didn’t close the-“
“Oh it’s fine,” Harry laughs. He sits back on his legs and looks at me, his expression void of anything he was tonight. Like the moment in the room didn’t even happen. “It’s just y/n.”
Of course it didn’t matter to him, I scold myself. I was the one with fucked up issues that couldn’t make up my stupid mind about how I wanted to feel about this man who literally paid me to be around. Who treated me like shit most of the time. Who was nice to me sometimes and I misconstrued it to mean a whole lot more.
What was I thinking? Did I think suddenly this man who’s known to be a player had a single one-sided intense moment with me and that would change him?
I was an absolute idiot.
“Could you get the door?” Harry asks so casually, so nonchalantly, that it punches me in the chest. It was closer to some combination of humiliation and self-inflicted hurt but for now it feels like my chest aches.
“O-of course.” I shut the door and stand there, taking in deep breaths as I try not to think about everything that just happened. Tried not to think of all the million ways I was the worst girlfriend in the world. Tried not to think about the fact that I had to quit sooner than later because things were getting tangled up and it was not okay.
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TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld
I’m trying to make part 3 the last—it includes your final decisions and returning to the present to find out what happens (from the beginning of the story). Thank you, as always, for reading <3 xx
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unioncityblues · 5 months
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Debbie Harry in a hotel room in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. July 13, 1979.
Photographed by Marcia Resnick.
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ex-t3rr3strial · 2 years
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Debbie Harry (1979)
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Debbie Harry
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