Primrose Thrills (Harry Styles mature)

Chapter 6

I arrived at my desk on Thursday morning to an abundance of voice mails and emails, which had my stomach lurching with dread. It wasn't so much the thought of what was contained within them, but more so the daunting task of fishing my way through them, which I knew would take me the whole of the morning... And the rest. And these generally weren't emails that I could flip off with a few words and kind regards. They were the types of emails that required careful wording and politeness, which often tested my patience- particularly with the more demanding clients. Some were rude and obtuse, and as much as I often fantasised about replying with a big 'fuck you', I'd just have to sit back and bite my tongue, saving the rant for whichever poor friend I'd be seeing next.

I took a sip of my hot coffee and put my glasses on. The first voice mail was some woman ranting and raving about how she deserved our priority and how urgent it was for us to find her a suitable venue. I inwardly groaned and flicked to the next message, which took me by surprise and pushed my heart into a frenzied race. There was only one voice I knew that had that deep and rich velvety smoothness.

"Hey, I just thought I'd call to say have a nice day tomorrow. Well, today, seeing as it will be today when you hear this... Wait... Yes, that's what I meant."

I laughed as Harry stuttered and confused himself on the other end.

"Anyway," he emphasised, "I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Well, it will be tomorrow when you hear this. Friday I mean. Wow, I'm really bad with time. If you fancy a laugh, we're doing a live interview on ITV at half 11. They're always... Fun. So yeah. Have a nice day. Bye."

His sudden and rushed goodbye had me grinning to myself. I hated leaving voice mails. Pretending that you're talking to someone when in fact you're just talking to yourself is difficult. You stammer, forget what you need to say, ramble on unnecessarily... There's a fine line between a friendly message and a message where you end up having a conversation with yourself and thus looking borderline insane. I picked up my phone and typed a quick text message to him.

'Nice to see that I'm not the only one that struggles with voice mails. Good luck with your interview. X'

It wasn't even 9am, which gave me two and a half hours to finish the mammoth emailing and phone calling task so that I could sneak out of the office and into the coffee room to watch Harry's interview. I'd never actually seen him being interviewed live- just in magazines and such- so I was curious to see how he'd handle it and whether he'd make any embarrassing slip ups, which I secretly hoped he would for the sake of my entertainment.

I'd flown through my emails with just minutes to spare. Everyone else was out of the office so I slipped out of the room and to the coffee room on the second floor, praying that no one else in the building had decided to take an early break.

To my luck, the room was empty. I walked over to the TV and switched it on; flicking it to ITV before I took a seat on one of the plush leather sofas. I shot a quick glance either side of me and kicked my shoes off, flexing my toes. My heels weren't painful, but they were far from comfortable and it was a relief to let my feet breathe out of the restricting patent leather. I took advantage of being completely alone and tucked my feet up on to the sofa, watching intently as the male host began to introduce the upcoming guests.

As Harry and the rest of the boys walked on to the set, I couldn't help but smile. Each of them was dressed differently, yet they all co-ordinated with one another. Very boyband. Despite this, Harry still looked completely amazing. He was dressed in black skinny jeans with a white t-shirt and navy blue blazer on top. He'd had a hair cut since I last saw him, but nothing drastic. His curls were swept effortlessly across his head to the right; long and untamed- a complete contrast to his carefully styled outfit. I was surprised at how relaxed he seemed as he sat down on to the white sofa and leant back, spreading his legs with his feet out in front. Actually, I wasn't surprised. He had a natural self-possession that I was certain many were envious of. He was confident but not to the point of coming across as arrogant, and I found that a very admirable quality of his. There was something about his presence that had my eyes drawn to him- and not just because of my ever-growing feelings towards him. He had a presence that captured your attention instantly and it wasn't difficult to understand why he was such a hot topic for the media.