Conceited [H.S.]

SEVEN

ANDREA WILSON

I open my eyes at the sound of my blaring alarm to see the sun streaming in over my white comforter. I must have forgotten to shut my curtains when I got home this morning.

I groan and blindly reach over, shut off my phone alarm, then cover my eyes with my sheets for a minute or so.

Eventually, I throw the warm comforter off of me, sit up, and let myself wake up for a second. I only let myself sleep for a few hours after my shift so I could get some sleep later tonight at a normal time. I shift back into my bed and lean against my headboard for support, reaching over for my phone and unlocking it.

It's only one o'clock; if I focus on that for too long, I'll let myself fall asleep for a little longer, which I can't do.

I swipe through my text messages from my brother and mom, responding quickly, and choose to ignore Luke's message. I don't have the patience to deal with him right now.

I see that I have a few Instagram notifications. I drop down the first and click on it, making the app open, and I see the familiar logo pop up as it loads. One specific notification makes my eyes nearly pop out of my head as I see it.

harrystyles started following you.

What the hell?

I open his profile curiously. He has millions of followers and only follows a few hundred profiles. How did he even find me? He took the time to look me up after he left? What is this man's deal? I scroll through a few of his photos, seeing him on stage performing.

A singer. Huh, I wouldn't have guessed that.

Of course, his name was familiar, but I never put the face to the name or the name of a specific career.

I have to admit the man has incredible style. Every single one of his suits is made and worn perfectly. Should I follow him back?

I mean, he was relentlessly inappropriate with me last night, or well, earlier this morning. However, there were times when he wasn't a complete asshole. He did make my shift better, apart from the inappropriate comments.

I reluctantly hit the blue follow-back button. Hopefully, I won't regret that. I return to my home page and see a new direct message.

He sent me a message?

I see the time stamp says 6:47 a.m. this morning, meaning he probably sent this when he got home.

So when am I going to be able to take you out and get to know you better?

Take me out? Get to know me better?

Isn't this the same man who said he wanted to have sex with me, called me inappropriate names while I was on the clock, and faked a seizure with Jo to get her to page 911? Why has he switched his approach so suddenly?

Oh shit...I opened the message without even thinking. Now I have to respond to him. Technically, he knows I would've seen it based on me following him back.

Jo isn't off yet, so I can't call her and ask for help. I'm all on my own. Wait, why would I need Jo's help with responding? He's just a man. All I have to do is respond. Do I respond flirty or normally?

Wait, no. Definitely normally. That isn't even a question.

Well, that's a drastic change from how you were speaking to me earlier.