Empire // h.s. au

Truths Revealed

Harry Styles

Samantha's call wasn't surprising. Whatever relationship it was that we had, we were getting pretty good at not completely hating each other.

Although she still annoyed the living wits out of me, I still slightly enjoyed her presence.

She had become the closest thing I had to a friend besides Niall and Louis. And even those two were shaky sometimes.

"Thanks for coming for me," Samantha said for what seemed to be the thousandth time. She looked tired and hurt. Her blonde hair was in a knot at the top of her head and her make-up was non existent. She still looked beautiful, however. Even with the dark circles under her eyes and the gaunt look in her cheeks.

She was still prepossessing. 

"Yeah, well," I said, not really knowing what to say. I was unsure as how to react to her thankfulness. It seemed like this is what our relationship had become. A back and forth of favors. 

"You know it means a lot, right?" she said. "I mean, it's kind of sad that the only person I can count on is my boss who kind of hates me." 

"I don't hate you, " I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" Sam smirked, her eyes lighting up for the first time tonight. 

"I don't hate you," I said a bit louder, afraid of the words. I had never admitted to anyone I didn't hate them. Except for my mother and sister. But they were the exception for a lot of things. 

"Really?" she grinned. "Because, guess what, I don't hate you either."

"How flattering," I answered, clenching my teeth. She had this way of annoying the shit out of me in the most endearing way humanly possible. I wanted to hate her. I really did. She was irritating and, at times, a bit incompetent. But she had grown on me. Bit by bit. She was becoming familiar and, shockingly, comfortable. She wasn't someone I felt like I needed to bite my tongue around or hold back my honesty. Sure, I came off as a dick when I was around her. But it was really just me being honest. Something that is hard to do in the business world. 

"Harry, I actually think you're starting to like me," she said, pursing her lips and uncrossing her arms. She was wearing sweatpants and a big sweatshirt. They hid her curvy body well-- to my disappointment. 

"I don't like you, but I don't hate you," I  corrected her, shaking my head.

"That hug earlier begs to differ," she said, a knowing look on her face. That damn hug. It was an accident. A reflex, if you will. What else was I supposed to do to a crying girl. 

I should have known Samantha would make a big deal out of it. 

"You've got to be kidding me," I sighed, shaking my head and covering my face. "That was me attempting to be nice. Guess I'll never do that again."

Sam laughed, her voice echoing throughout the limo. Even Bruno turning to make sure we were still alive. 

Laughter wasn't common around me. 

"Shocking, Harold," she said, the words slipping out with ease.

"Harold, huh Sam?" I said, looking at her with my eyebrow raised.

Her eyes went dark and her laughter was gone. "What did I say about that nickname? Please don't." 

"I won't if you tell me why I can't call you it," I said, crossing my arms. This whole nickname business was stupid. It was getting exhausting calling her Samantha or Ms. Anderson all the time, Sam was quick to the point. Plus it fit her a lot better. It was quirky and different, like her. She wasn't afraid to be different.