Press Release

10: Yoga Press

Saturday morning is my day to workout as hard as I can, but I have to switch up my routine weekly for obvious reasons. Today I manage to find a pickup game of beach volleyball. It's amazing cardio because the sand keeps shifting under my feet, and I have to work harder with my legs to keep traction. Plus I get to meet other people who are competitive and enjoy a quality cardio routine.

There's always that awkward moment when someone recognizes me, and I get the "Aren't you Harry Styles?" question. I usually agree to a few pictures before the game with the stipulation that they post them the next day. Once we're in the game, no one pays any attention to my celebrity status. It's all about kicking each other's asses, which makes it fun.

I follow up the high intensity workout with a yoga class that takes place on a beach just down from the volleyball game which means I get a jog in along the wet sand. The timing is perfect between the two sessions. My muscles are burning from the intense workout followed by the run, and then the yoga allows me to stretch them out, making me complete. And bloody exhausted.

There are some fans in the yoga class, so I spend time signing autographs but refusing to take photos. I used to feel like a shit for not taking photos with them after my workouts, but this really falls under my personal time and not my work time. Although I can differentiate, some fans can't. Luckily, most of them are respectful if I ask them politely to please refrain from taking a picture. And then there are the ones who snap pictures of me as I walk away. Those people piss me off. They call themselves "fans", but really that couldn't be further from the truth. Trolls. That's how I think of them.

Today I'm lucky that word hasn't been released on social media about my presence on the beach. Otherwise, I'd be mobbed. I've been pretty charmed lately. Twice this month I've been treated to some amazing sex, plus my co-star hasn't been the complete wanker I expected. And now to have fans leaving me alone so I can go about my day?

Damn. Spoke too soon. As I approach my car, there's a crowd standing around it, many of them young women and men with phones in hand. Too late to turn back now as they've seen me, so my only choice is to barrel through, get in the car, and go. While I would love to sign autographs and take pictures, this mob doesn't seem to be the type to wait patiently or refrain from taking pictures of me all sweaty and gross.

I toss my jacket over my head, leaving a little room to see through the front as I purposely walk towards them, my body tense. The key fob is in my pocket, so I don't even have to reach for it.

"Harry! Can you sign this for me?"

"My sister's sick, Harry. She'd love a picture."

"Fuck me, Harry. I'd treat you so good."

"Harry, can you sign my boob?"

"Harry! HARRY!!!!! Remember me?! I was in the front row at your concert two years ago here in LA! We had a connection! You looked at me, and we fell in love! Don't you remember?"

"Hey! Harry! Why is your head covered? Got a hickey?"

"Your ass looked hot during that downward facing dog!"

"Harry! HARRY!! HAAAAARRRRRRRYYYY!!"

And so on and so forth. It's tiring. If I'm going to some event or other, I expect to sign autographs, but I'm just trying to get home after an intense two and a half hour workout.

"Excuse me," I mumble, pushing my way through them. "Please let me pass." I try not to throw an elbow in anyone's rib cage or anything, but they are packed pretty tightly around me. Finally, my wiry frame allows me to navigate past them to the car door. With one hand on the handle, the door unlocks, and I carefully and quickly maneuver into the driver's seat.