Trapped [H.S. MATURE AU]

1.

Charlene Whelan

I don't know what I was thinking when I had accepted to pose for Harry Styles. Or better, I know exactly what I was thinking. With 10 thousand dollars I can pay almost all my college fees, which is definitely a big help. I can survive just with this "job" for a month and then I'll find another one. I'm not sure whatever it's going to be more difficult than my usual waitress jobs, or not. I have the feeling that the real challenge will be tolerating the photographer for the whole month.

He had texted me an address in town as soon as I had finished my lessons. I had time to have lunch and then go there. I had eaten a very light salad and I had arrived just in time, unlike him.

It takes me a while to understand that the address is a studio, considering that there are no big advertising signs or windows, just a big black metal door with an intercom, from where a male voice answers me.

"Uhm... I'm with Harry Styles, I'm the model," I tell him, trying to push back the embarrassment from calling myself a model. I've hardly considered myself pretty, let alone a model. After that, the door is quickly opened and I'm faced with a big flight of stairs. Once I get on top, there's a guy on the '30s that opens another glass door to let me in.

"He's not here yet..." he tells me once he closes the glass door behind me. I slowly nod my head and move my eyes around the room. There's a grey backdrop at the end of the room, against a brick wall and there are all around the empty room big windows that brighten the whole room. On my right, instead, there are a few more people with some bags and another woman that goes through a rack of clothes.

"You must be the model?" The woman asks me, as soon as she notices my presence. I slowly nod my head, while she moves her attentive stare down my body, who's definitely too covered by my baggy clothes. "What size are you?" She asks me. "I asked Harry but he told me he had no idea and couldn't find your measurements... ridiculous!" She blurts and rolls her eyes, probably thinking that it's Harry's forgetfulness. They're probably used to work with him.

"Uhm... I wear a size 4 for jeans..." I shrug my shoulders, not really knowing what she wants to know other than that. Normally, every piece of clothing I try on is too big for me, so I stick to baggy clothes.

"Bust? Waist?" She blurts out, looking at me with her eyebrows furrowed and confusion spread all over her face. Good question.

"I'm not sure..." I shrug my shoulders. "I'm not actually a model," I specify, when I notice the confused looks on everyone's faces. The woman sighs and then takes out a meter from her bag, encouraging me to walk toward her.

"When Harry called me last night, in the middle of the night for this job, all he was able to tell me is that you're really, really thin... not really helpful, isn't it?!" The woman chuckles and rolls her eyes, while measuring my waist and taking notes.

"I guess not..." I chuckle. "Is he always like that?"

"Inattentive? Careless? Late?" She looks up at me with a sparkle of amusement in her stare. "Lately, yes."

"Great..." I let out a chuckle while she keeps doing her job of measuring me.

When Harry decides to show his face around here a whole hour is already gone. An hour that, thankfully, I had spent reading the books I had brought with me.

"Sorry, the traffic is a mess..." He tells to the whole room as soon as he gets in, putting up his best-mortified expression and act.

"Yeah, it's LA..." I sigh. "This is why I departed an hour before," I tell him, closing my book and putting it back in my bag, while everyone in the room looks at me quite shocked for the words that have just left my mouth. Harry takes a deep breath and tries hard to ignore me, instead of fighting back at me as he'd like.