Last night was amazing. Harry and I opened up to one another like never before and I feel like I understand him even more than I already thought I did. He's handled his fame so well and the fact that he's never lost himself inspires me.
It's such a foreign feeling for me, wanting him to get to know me. Freeing yet frightening. I ended up telling him all about my writing and how much I love it. The way I see it there's only so many times he's going to catch me writing in the notepad app on my phone and not ask what I'm doing. So far he'd respected my privacy but it somehow didn't feel right not telling him and letting him in. Writing is such a huge part of my life, a secret part, but still huge. It's where I find my release, and often times, my escape from the real world. Everything is under my control there and I'm never afraid or lonely. Writing takes me to my happy place.
Of course once I told him a part of me wished I never had. He begged all night for my screen name but I didn't give it up. Just because I let him in on part of the secret it doesn't mean I'm ready to share the entire thing. I doubt he'd be able to handle the things I write anyway, as innocent as he seems. His cheeks would redden so much they'd burst into flames if he didn't die of second hand embarrassment first.
Still, our conversation put me in a safe place. I'm starting to feel like I can trust him even though he already treats me like we've been friends for years. It's hard not to feel at home around him because he's so welcoming.
When I got to work this morning I was still feeling relaxed and easy going. That feeling only expanded when I was reminded that Berkley would be in Canada with Oak Market Publishing through the weekend. He'd miss my birthday tomorrow but at least we'd have some much needed space.
Ever since our little make out session in my office a week ago things have been awkward. He's been a bit more demanding, something I've been trying to avoid like the plague. We had at least three dates this week under the guise that he'd miss me while he was gone. I promptly reminded him that Friday until Sunday wasn't that long of a time and that he'd be okay.
It's not that I don't like Berkley because I really do. He's fun and attractive, charismatic and funny, he's financially stable, and ambitious; everything, on paper, that I want in a man. But ultimately our personalities don't mesh well, not well enough to date seriously that is. He makes sure to live out every stereotype placed on a man in his position and although I don't judge him, I can't get behind it. I've always liked guys who were different and who walked to the beat of their own drummer, that's not Berkley. In my experience guys who can't go their own way on their own are more susceptible to straying and doing what "the people want."
Public appearance and opinion are everything to him already so I know things can only get worse. For example, on our first date of the week he asked me to be ready at seven but didn't give me any details about where we were going. It was a Monday and I'd worn heels all day so the last thing I wanted to do was go out in a pair. I slipped into a cute top, a pair of jeans, and my chucks before putting my hair up in a ponytail. When he arrived at my house I went out and before he could even say hello to me he addressed my outfit. He wasn't disrespectful but I could see it all over his face that he was expecting me to dress up. Finally he came out and asked that I change. It wasn't a big deal for me to change my outfit but the fact that he couldn't even be bothered with asking me how my day went or even greeting me bugged the fůck out of me. Once I finally came back we had dinner but he kept dropping not so subtle hints about us getting more serious.
Similar incidents occurred Tuesday and Wednesday as well when we went out. I was happy to be able to say I had other plans on Thursday when he called. Hanging out with Harry was the release I needed for the week, and knowing I'm going to see him tonight and spend the weekend with him has me pumped.
"Girl," Amita sings in that enigmatic way she does when she has the tea, "hurry and get your purse so we can go to lunch."
I look up from my work with a smile on for the beautiful lady who's quickly become my best friend despite my resistance to get close to anyone.
"I thought we were eating in the café," I reply, shutting down my computer and grabbing my bag.
She shakes her head, "Nope. D is pulling the car around now so we can take you out for an early birthday lunch."
I loop my arm in hers as we saunter out of my office, "Yall are so sweet."
She bops her head from side to side as if to brush off my compliment. "Yeah yeah, I'm still upset you're not letting us take you out."
The elevator doors open to the downstairs lobby and we step out walking towards the front where I see Damien parked in his black on black Mercedes. He's pulled in long ways blocking traffic and not giving a damn in the obnoxious loveable way only D can do things.
"I told yall my parents want me to come home," I lie as we sit in our respective seats in the car, "I'm seriously thinking about going so I don't want to make and then break plans with yall."
It's not that I want to lie to them but I can't very well tell them that I'll be with Harry this weekend. I feel like I can trust them but ultimately it isn't their business who else I'm friends with. Especially because he's famous, I don't want him to think I'm trying to fame grab or something.
"Your parents have had twenty-two birthdays with you. We deserve one, stop letting them be selfish," Damien gripes playfully, pulling out of the lot.
I laugh, "Shut up D! They just miss me. Besides we can hang out any time, I live here remember?"
He rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything about it. Instead he rolls the conversation into one about his fiancé and how frustrating it is planning their wedding with Taylor's penny pinching ways.
The conversation flows easily between the three of us as we travel making the fifteen minute battle with traffic feel like seconds. No one's in that huge of a rush to leave or get back on time since Berkley is out of town so we go to the Chipotle we always avoid because it's further away and the line is always longer than sin. Once we get our food and find a table we jump back into discussing Damien's wedding until Amita looks like she's about to burst.
"Spill it Mita, you've got that shįt eating grin of yours on," I demand with a grin of my own.
She tries to pretend she's appalled but can't keep a straight face. "Fine. Are you banging the boss?"
When she sees my eyes widen she clarifies.
"We've heard the rumors," she starts.
"And denied them," Damien adds, interrupting her.
"Right," she confirms, "We've denied them all cause you're our girl but Whitney hasn't been having it. She's basically on a crusade."
"To do what? Not mind her business with her snake ass?" I interject with an attitude fully reserved for the woman in question.
Damien laughs, "Yes and no. She's been planting seeds in everyone's heads that you're fůcking Berkley for accounts."
I shake my head swallowing the last of my chicken burrito, "She's so fůcking salty that I got Coke and Oak Market. I'm not sleeping with Berkley but honestly I don't need to in order to get chosen over her."
"And why not?" a voice comes from behind us. She had to have sat down while we were engulfed in conversation because none of us saw her.
I feel my body flame at the sound of her voice. I was upset enough that she's lying on me but now that we're face to face I feel like slapping the taste out of her mouth.
I turn around to face Whitney standing with her arms folded across the nude silk of the dress draped across her chest and body.
Standing to my feet as well I shake off Amita's hand as she tries to pull me back. I'm not going to fight her, I'm grown and I need this job. But what I will do is read her dumb aÅs for filth.
"I don't have to sleep with Berkley to beat you because you're lazy. When's the last time, as a veteran employee, you went out and brought in a client on your own?" I ask rhetorically before answering my own question, "Two years ago, yeah I did my research. Which is yet another reason why I get picked over you every time, I do my research and it's thorough. Any of the senior managers still have their first time to look stupid presenting my work because I take care of my business. When I come to work I come to do just that. While you spend your time minding my business and flipping your thin aÅs hair. A little advice, the next time you decide to get into my mix maybe try checking my work ethic and imitating it!"
I promptly turn around and grab my drink and trash and sashay away. I can hear Amita and Damien let out surprised laughs before shuffling behind me.
My heart is racing and making my head thump from the attention I just brought on myself but I know I did the right thing. Surprisingly enough a lot of our co-workers are here so hopefully they'll spread the word and the rumors can die down.
"I'm officially calling you Slayiley from now on," Damien jokes as we leave the restaurant.
Amita laughs, "For real! You should've saw her face when you just dismissed her."
I shrug, my heart slowing down bit by bit, "She probably felt as small as her IQ."
We all laugh as D pulls out of the parking lot, leaving the incident and Whitney behind.
~*~
The rest of my day went by briskly with some people giving me encouraging grins while others avoided me as if I'd snap on them too. I left early but I didn't see Whitney again which I was glad for. It's not that I was afraid, I just find it embarrassing to allow someone to pull me out of character. She pulled my card and I showed it to her.
None of that matters now, I decide, pulling up the black shorts Harry bought me. They're quickly becoming my favorites. The full length mirror I added to the corner of my room gives me a perfect look at my lightly lined eyes and tousled hair, grey chucks match the grey of the 5 Seconds of Summer top I'm outfitted in.
I hear my phone beep and grab a pair of sunglasses to cover my eyes from the fading sun. Harry always stays in the car when he comes to pick me up so my neighbors won't see him. He texts me when he's outside so I'll know, it's worked well so far. When he comes over to hang out I make him wear a disguise or a hoodie so he can't be recognized and then he leaves late at night while everyone's asleep.
Before I can reach for the door handle I hear it open as usual. Even when he doesn't get out of the car he still opens the door for me, I like it a lot more than I should. Berkley never bothers.
"The disrespect," Harry laughs as I sit in the passenger seat, gesturing to my shirt.
"I like their music better and that one with the dimples," I jest, snapping my fingers as if I forgot, "You know the drummer. He's so hot."
"I'll be sure to call Ashton and let him know how you feel. I can hook you up."
"Really?" I ask with false enthusiasm.
"Not a chance," he replies throwing the car into gear and taking off so fast I fly back.
I cackle, "Put your dįck away Houdini I was kidding."
"I love that you have no filter," he replies genuinely with a laugh.
I shrug, "I spent the majority of my life keeping my thoughts to myself. By the time I turned twenty I realized it wasn't worth it."
"Sometimes you have to hold your tongue to get by," he whispers, his tone sounds like he's miles away mentally.
"I've found using your tongue works a lot better," I retort nonchalantly.
Our eyes connect just as I recognize the double entendre. Nervous awkward laughter permeates the air.
"So where are we going?" I ask, trying to change the subject.
I half-listen to his response, hearing something about the walk of fame. I find myself lost in the look of his arms. His biceps are getting so big lately as is his chest, it must be all of those days at the gym with his trainer. Everything is accentuated in the tank top and skinny jeans he's sporting. His hair is down and pushed to the side in loose waves, it looks like he spent hours curling each piece to perfection. I smirk at the image in my head, wanting to laugh but not wanting to explain.
By the time he stops the car I'm completely oblivious of whether or not we were having a conversation, but I can tell you every detail of how he looks. His hair looks almost wind-swept, each dark brown strand shiny and healthy, it looks like he got his ends clipped recently. The white of his large armhole tank is loose enough to balloon in the breeze, yet tight enough to debut the prominence of his chest and, on the luckiest of occasions, give a peak at his tattoos theere. His arms are on full display, allowing me to search his body for available tattoo space without looking too hard. The tightness of his black jeans highlight his cute little butt and stress the bulge in the front of his jeans I'm desperately trying not to stare at.
As we walk, I hear his brown boots hit the ground, blending in with the sounds of city life, running cars and blaring horns.
Stepping over a few empty spaces I declare, "This is where yall need your star."
He grins, "For sure, right in front of a Chinese food shop. People can get fed and then come out and take pictures by it."
"Do you think you each get one or just the group?" I ask, honestly unsure.
"The group, that's how they did Destiny's Child and God knows none of us are Beyoncé," he jokes, turning to continue to walk.
"I'm pretty sure Zayn is," I laugh, "He's brown-ish, gorgeous, and has high notes for days."
He howls loudly, covering his mouth moments too late. "I'll be sure to tell him that!"
I shrug, standing fully by my statement.
By the time we get to the end of the street and start heading back, I notice people whispering. A few people have their phones out and pointed in our directions in what they think is an inconspicuous way.
I turn to let Harry know but I can see in his eyes that he sees it too. We don't have to say a word, speeding up in response to the attention.
It takes us half the time to get back to the car and hit the road. Luckily he's in the Audi and not his Mercedes, it's a lot easier to spot. We head to our mountain as he tells me about the meeting they had with someone who's co-writing a song for them.
"I just wanted to scream because I want to write more for the album but there's so much more that goes into it. The songs have to fit together cohesively, I'm just afraid my style is too different for the direction the album is going in," he confesses, pulling the car to a stop.
"Well is it going the way you want it to? Are you all in agreeance?" I ask, turning to him in my seat.
He shrugs dejectedly, "Our personal styles and preferences are so different. Normally we're able to make it work but it's harder this album for some reason. I hate to admit it but when Zayn left it shook us. Sure he came back a few months later but by then the damage was done."
I reach out and grab his hand, "Do you think yall will be okay?"
He looks up and into my eyes, stilling me and my heart with the disappointment in his eyes, "I'm not sure. We've always had problems, it's part of why Zayn left, but they've always been small. We were shocked and hurt. It even damaged our friendship a bit. Ultimately I think we'll get through it we're just having trouble coming to a consensus on things."
"You have to be more assertive Harry. Say what you want and stand by it. I'm sure your ideas and songs are great you just have to be bold, be brave," I explain, rubbing the soft skin of his hand.
"Thanks B," he smiles, dropping it when his phone rings. "One second I have to take this."
I nod, watching him exit the car to talk and have some privacy. I hope I've helped him but I'm a fish out of water when it comes to solving issues between friends. Every friendship I've had has crashed and burned for one reason or another.
Idea sparks for a line for my book making me groan. If I don't write it down I'll forget it but Harry could come back at any minute and I don't want to get caught again. I doubt if I'd be able to get out of showing him my work now that I gave him the "be bold, be brave" speech.
Looking out the open door I see he's a few feet away enthralled in a conversation. I swallow, opening the notepad app on my phone praying my typing speed doesn't fail me now. I'm halfway there when I feel the car dip down.
"What're you writing?" he asks nosily peeking over the top of my phone.
"Nothing," I deny, pulling the device to my chest defensively.
He laughs loudly, hurting my ears in the enclosed space. "I know you're writing B, why won't you just show me? Be bold and brave and not a hypocrite."
I roll my eyes annoyed that I was right that he'd use my words against me. "It's just a hobby Houdini."
He shakes his head, "Anything you'd defend that fiercely can't just be a hobby. It's important to you, so it's important to me."
I'm floored. We've only known each other a few months and here he is showing me such support and love for something he has no idea about. I could be writing Smurf smut for all he knows. All he knows is that it matters to me and that's enough for him. My heart physically clenches in my chest. I feel it flutter at the realization of his words and the weight that comes along with them.
"The first time I got feedback on something I uploaded I knew I had found what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I was so excited I screamed. The comment wasn't anything crazy; it wasn't like it was a book deal. All they said was that they loved my book but those few words were everything for me," I can feel my eyes getting misty and try to sniff away the tears. I'm moved by the memory and his words all in one.
"So why aren't you a full time writer? Why not do what you love?" Harry asks scratching the tiny amount of stubble against his chin.
"It's not a stable career. At least that's what my parents convinced me of. I was ready to change my major and pursue it fully but they have a way of making me see reason I guess. I'm a good girl, I've got to be able to take care of them when they get older you know?" I half-heartedly joke, feeling dumb for using the 'my parents said so' excuse.
If he's judging me he's doing a dÄmned good job of hiding it.
He nods his head, "Understandable parents have a way of doing that even when they're wrong."
My eyes widen, turning to him I ask, "You think they're wrong? You think I could do it?"
He smiles showing off his dimples, "I wouldn't know since you won't let me read any of your stuff. But I think if it's what you want to do you should and you can do it. Life's too short to not do what you love."
I smile, turning back to rest my head against the headrest. He's completely right. Although I'm not going to quit my job and become a starving writer any time soon, it feels good to have his support. I'm amazed at how much faith he has in me and my abilities even without seeing them.
I make up my mind and with a few clicks of my finger I begin to read, "Zendaya loves Jamison with every fiber of her being but she's getting tired of his shit. Dealing with his overbearing mother wears her out daily. The woman doesn't know her place. And apparently she's confused about where her home is as well. Every day she's at their home, beating her home, and eating her food."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
What's up my good people!!!!
I hope yall enjoyed the chapter! It only took me 2 hours this time so if it's short, sorry! It's kind of another filler chapter although there were some important moments here.
Bailey is slowly distancing herself from Berkley and turning to Harry, she stood up for herself against Whitney, Harry opened up to her (showing his trust level for her) and she was able to counsel him, and he was able to get her to open up a bit more.
The biggest thing about this chapter was her allowing him to listen to her writing. For B her books are her everything and she's protective of them while simultaneously being ashamed of them. A part of her always hears her parents voices telling her it's not a real career and it makes her want to give up. Sharing them anonymously relieves that shame so it was a HUGE deal that she trusted Harry enough to share with him.
This chapter's song...
Voodoo Doll by 5SOS. I wanted to pick a 5SOS song since she's sporting their shirt in this chapter as well as I feel like parts of the song fit because even when Bailey isn't with Harry she can feel the lasting effects of his presence. He's really becoming a safe haven for her, even more than she realizes.
As for new follower S/O's...
This time we have: Wolfz01, Crazy_White_Girl, miren03, lavishlife, nyah_christina, dionysiae, ks_dreamer, bevwilliams94617, princessdoglover, and ShardayHayles!!!!
Thanks so much for following and I hope I don't disappoint!
Invite your friends to read and follow and leave me some feedback in the comments!! I love hearing from yall!!!!
Until Next Time,
WBN