A Journalist and a Singer [h.s]

5.

Maggie's POV:

I love my job so far. It's a dream come true, but I've learned that it can be a pain in the-

"Maggie?" Sophie says, interrupting my train of thought.

I look up and see Sophie laughing at me, packing up her things. I pick my head up off the desk and rub my eyes, looking at the time. 7:42 pm.

"How long was I asleep?" I ask, shutting my laptop and sliding it into my bag.

"Not long, but long enough to miss a phone call. Might've snooped and saw it was from Harry Styles. Tomorrow you are so telling me what is going on between you two!" She exclaims.

"There's nothing going on, I swear. It's all professional. He's just a friendly guy." I explain to her, taking a sip of cold coffee. "I have found there is more to him than meets the eye."

She raises her eyebrows at my remark. "Nope, can't tell you that. Journalist confidentiality and all that." I tell her, letting out a chuckle.

"I understand, just be careful. Work comes first with these people." She warns me. I give her a nod, dismissing how she insinuates there is more going on between Harry and I rather than just work.

That's all it is. Work. I can't even imagine anything else happening. He's - well - famous. I'm on the other side. I'm the polar opposite of famous. I'm a nobody with a little something to say. I just so happen to be able to make what I want to say public. That doesn't make me special. That makes me a journalist. There's a difference.

I look down at my phone, seeing the missed call notification. I click his contact and click his number, bringing the phone up to my ear.

The line continues to ring until he finally answers, music and people yelling over each other in the background. I hear a door shut behind him as the music fades, separating him from the large crowd.

"Hey, sorry, it was kinda loud in there." He says, stating the obvious. I let out a little chuckle and crossed my arms, resting my elbows on the desk.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, I just saw that you called." I tell him.

"Oh it wasn't anything important, just seeing how the article was coming along. I'm looking forward to seeing what secrets you reveal." he jokes, but I can tell he's a little scared I'm going to reveal something private.

"I wouldn't do that." I reassure him. "Anyways, it's going slow, but it's going. I'm waiting to hear back from editing to see if they like the first paragraph. If they do, then I can finish writing the rest of it." I explain. I can almost feel him nodding his head through the phone as he listens.

"Sounds like you deserve a break. Why don't you come on down to this party I'm at?" He offers, making my nerves skyrocket. I don't really do parties. I'm not a party person. I look down at the checklist in front of me, realizing everything's done for once. The one time I wish I could be busy.

"I don't know, it's not really my type of thing." I tell him, trying to get out of it.

"All the more reason you should come. It'll be fun, I promise." He says. I think about it. I mean, how bad could it be? Sure, I've never been one for the party scene, but it can't be as bad as I think it is. What could go wrong?

I drive over the address he sent me, a part of London I've never been to before, but then again I haven't been to many places yet. I've been wanting to explore more, but work has kept me busy. I look out my window at the old timey apartments, making me crave for a long drive in the middle of the night, listening to music, no destination in mind. The perfect night.