Right Down The Line

1

A/N:
This is a sequel to The Way I Feel Inside.

Bee's POV:

"I really don't think I'm the right one to do this feature," I scrambled behind Whitney through the open office space.

"Well that's a shame," she retorted, glancing over her shoulder at me, her messy blond bun bouncing quietly on the nape of her neck. "You should really believe in yourself more," she joked, knowing that was not the issue at all.

I rolled my eyes and kept pace with her toward her large office in the corner. "Whitney, seriously."

We reached her office door and she turned around, propping her arm up on the door frame. I gave her my best pleading eyes and gestured with my hands together out in front of me to accentuate my point. I quickly glanced to the side to make sure no other employees were in ear shot. "I think it's a really big conflict of interest. Plus I've only been a writer here for two years. This big of a story should go to a senior writer. Like..." I looked around the office space until I spotted the back of Toby's balding head where he was seated on a lounge chair by the window typing on his laptop. "Like Toby!"

Whitney only looked amused. Her small, fit frame commanded attention and respect, and her perfectly pressed grey pantsuit was stunning on her. The woman always had her shit together.

"You are the reason he said yes, Bee."

I swallowed harshly, and she turned around to walk to her desk. "Whitney," I called after her from the doorway. When her eyes met mine, I told her, "I love him."

Whitney scoffed as she pulled her wheeling chair out and sat in it. She folded her hands in front of herself on the wooden desk, sitting with her usual perfect posture. She looked up at me and spoke gently - definitely more gently than she wanted to.

"I know you love him. You know who else loves him?" She didn't wait for a response. "Everyone, Bee. So, who better to write this feature than you? One of the other millions of people who loves Harry Styles? You know him. You know what to ask. Maybe you can get a straightforward answer out of the guy, for once."

I just stared at her helplessly, bringing out another scoff as she lost her patience. "Jesus, I just don't understand what the big deal is. You dated the guy for what? A month? How 'deep in love' could you possibly have fallen?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but she raised a hand. "No no, that was rhetorical."

I tucked my lips into my mouth and nodded. "I just..." I sighed. "I really don't want to let you down. Let the publication down. I love this job. I feel like I'm finally in the right place and I really don't want to do anything to fuck it up."

Whitney eyed me for a moment, then she leaned back in her chair with her dark red lips pursed.

"I guess I could see how it would..." she searched for her words, "sting, a little bit, to ask an ex lover about his recent marriage," she mumbled in consideration. I instantly felt relaxed in the hopes she'd take me off this feature. But the relief didn't quite overtake the pressure in my chest at the reminder of Harry's marriage.

I rubbed the center of my chest and took a deep breath, staring at Whitney and waiting for her to sort her thoughts.

"Fine," she resolved, reaching for her office phone. "I'll call his team and see if they're alright with Toby doing the feature."

My shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank you, Whitney."

"Don't thank me yet." Her eyes peered up at me while her fingertips tapped numbers on the keypad. "If they insist on you doing it, you're doing it. If you refuse, or they pull out, you're... Fired." She rolled her eyes. "Okay, not fired. But I'll be pissed." She pointed a finger at me, signaling the very obvious fact that I'd be the one she'd be pissed at.