Moments of Impact H.S. A.U.

7.

"Sorry Maddie, I gotta to," I say.

"Call me afterwards," she demands, and I take a deep breath. It's not that I'm late, but I'm nervous as hell. I called Maddie to calm me, and although she has to some extent, I'm sweaty and my hair is sticking to my forehead. Stupid Australian summer.

"I promise," I say and hang up fishing a Kleenex out of my purse to wipe my forehead. Why on earth do my boss have to be so hot when I look a mess? Perhaps if I apply another layer of lipstick he won't notice?

"What are those?" Harry asks me with raised eyebrows taking a look at my shoes when I enter his office. Perhaps wearing flat shoes on my first day was a bad idea, but for all I know he'll have me running around, and I really don't want to do that in stilettos.

"Sandals. Birkenstocks. I don't know if the correct term is actually thongs," I take a deep breath to stop myself from my ramble. It is only a matter of time before I lose this job. This is my first day, and I'm already making a fool of myself. I feel sweat running down my back. Why? God why?

Harry licks his lips. He looks as if he is contemplating his words as he stares at me with an unreadable look. Perhaps now is the time to grab my stuff and leave this place? "I can see that. I'm just surprised that's all," Harry sends me a smile, and my eyes widen. Am I hearing him correctly?

"I'm sorry, sir. They are just very comfortable. It won't happen again. It's just- my stilettos fucking hurt. And they are giving me blisters," I say biting my lip. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it like that, sorry. I can go change, Mr. Styles," I say turning on my heel.

"Miss," his voice catches me off guard, and I stand frozen in place. I turn around slowly. My eyes meet his. "It's Harry. And I don't need you to change. I'm surprised that's all."

"Surprised?"

"Yeah," he says flashing me another smile. Why did his smile have to be so damn cute? "I'm sure all the women here at the office are thinking the same. Not that I have any experience with stilettos, but I can imagine how uncomfortable they must be. You're the first person to address the topic. I don't know if you are aware, but we don't have any requirements when it comes to clothing. I just want you to feel comfortable in your shoes," he says, and I'm not sure whether he means being confident and believing in myself, or if he is simply just talking about footwear. Perhaps he means both.

"So that means?"

"You can choose any piece of clothing of your liking, including your shoes. I don't care what you're wearing as long as you show for work at your scheduled time."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Now that you're here," he clasps his hands, and I look at him in confusion. He's much more down to earth than I thought he'd be. "Look what I've got. I don't know if it's the right brand, but I had Gertrude pick it up for me," he flashes me a smile.

"Gertrude?"

"Gertrude Martin. She did your job interview," he says. Perhaps that's why she prefers Mrs Martin. Gertrude. Like seriously. I'm not trying to be mean, but somehow that name reminds me of an old person.

"Right. I didn't know. She only told me her last name." Clearly she doesn't like me.

"Yeah. Don't start calling her Gertrude. She'll kill you if you do," he winks at me. I still don't understand how she got this job. But perhaps I'm not one to ask questions. "So, what do you think?" He asks in excitement showing me his brand new coffee grinder, the French press and a lot of coffee beans. It's cute how his smile brightens. He seems proud of himself.