GODSPEED | HARRY STYLES

EIGHT.

Dinner. 

He invited us to dinner. 

Is that some kind of sick joke? 

He's probably just trying to flaunt his money like he has been this entire time. I don't know what it is about this man, but he just aggravates me. Maybe it's his dumb accent or the way he wears his pants, but something just makes me want to punch him in the face. 

My conscience tells me he's done nothing wrong and he's actually giving me a wonderful opportunity and dinner is just a courtesy because he's being polite. 

Still makes me want to knock him out. 

Maybe it'll humble him.

Anyway, we accepted his dinner invitation. Well, I begrudgingly mumbled a yes under my breath while Kush didn't even let the man finish his sentence before agreeing. So, we're back in the hotel room getting ready for this stupid dinner. 

"I think he really likes you." Kush tells me as he zips his jacket up. 

"I guess." 

"That means he'll definitely consider hiring you." 

"I'm just going to remain neutral for the time being. Don't wanna get my hopes up or whatever." 

"Bruh, do you ever show emotion?" 

"Maybe once or twice a year. If you're lucky." 

-

"I'm so glad you guys came!" Harry excitedly says as he greets Kush and I. 

"What makes you think we wouldn't?" I speak through clenched teeth. 

Again with the laughter. I'm beginning to think they're a paid audience. 

"Here, sit, sit." Harry encourages, pulling a chair out for me. 

A chair that happens to be next to his. 

Well, alright then. 

It's a semi fancy place. Not like cocktail dress fancy, thankfully. I could easily pass as a Hollywood snob here, though. 

I order some kind of pasta and Kush gets a gourmet burger, whatever that means. Drink requests are made and everyone gets some sort of alcoholic beverage while I simply order a water. Before anyone can make some sly "are you pregnant?" joke, Kush decides to go on about the record store. 

I'm sure Harry noticed, though. 

Now, I'm not the sort of recovering alcoholic that simply cannot be around booze to where I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown. But, I'd rather not be around it if I have the choice. I've only been sober a year, so I think it's going to take a little longer for me to be okay with others drinking right in my face. 

And God, does the red wine look simply divine tonight. Sarah, I think her name is, has been sipping it as if it was made of gold and diamonds. She commented on how smooth it goes down and I swear I felt my mouth salivate a little. 

Please, Sarah, tell me more.

I've kept my head down for the majority of this dinner. Just continuing to shove pasta down my throat and gulping water and ice cubes. It probably looks like I haven't had a proper meal since I was born. 

Kush keeps the conversation going. I get asked a few questions so they make me feel included, but I think my short answers kind of steered them away from even looking in my direction. I seem insanely stuck up, but I just don't want to go through the whole "by the way, I'm a recovering alcoholic and coke addict" conversation. Just not the best first impression.