Call Me a Thief (Harry Styles)

2. Inspirations

WHOOOOO! CHAPTER TWOOOOO :)

Chapter 2- Inspirations

Beth-

Once settled in my desk at the office, I realized that I was still adamantly ticked off about Trisha’s need to force another job on me. As my manager, she was allowed, but it still never set well with me. Regardless, I felt I’d been a bit rude to Harry, seeing as I’d only just met him three minutes before and I’d gone kind of snappy at him toward the end of our conversation. It was enough to say that I’d overreacted. But now, sitting at the stupid computer with a blank Word document and a deadline coming up, I wasn’t so sure. I was still seething about the ordeal, actually.         

Deciding to finish up my own paper first, I attacked it with a strange grace. Since I’d spent the day on the beach, with Ross (and with Harry), for some reason the words came a bit easier to me- it wasn’t hard for me to let loose and write about the process of a Fourth of July cookout. Adding in the interviews that I’d already done was a piece of cake. I felt proud of myself when I finished the article, and I literally found myself sitting back in my swivel chair and admiring the page from afar. It would make a nice little piece in the paper.         

My new intern, a girl I’d only just started working with, was lacking in her time management. Whenever she missed a deadline or lagged behind, Trisha left me to pick up the slack. I rather wished I’d never taken that responsibility. But I’d felt flattered that someone had asked, because it meant that there was confidence in my abilities to write. And I wanted nothing more than to get noticed for that.

Trying to think of what kind of article to write, I spun around to face my office window. On my way around I watched the colors fly by. Last year when I’d been assigned my very own office, I went a little crazy with the décor. I remember rushing straight to the party store, picking up all the flowery wall decorations I could find. Now there were dozens of giant, multi-colored flowers and leaves on the walls of the room, making the scene look more like a little girl’s bedroom than a journalistic office.

I peered through the window to the tiny, empty parking lot two stories below. Thankfully, I could still see the ocean a bit from my vantage point, just a seamless, blue expanse that seemed to never end. I reveled in the essence of it, trying to gather my thoughts for the paper.

Bang, Bang! I jumped so high from my spinning chair that it was hard to get my rear planted back in it. I almost collapsed to the floor, but calmed down once I heard his voice.

“Babe! Open up!”

I sighed, crossed the room quickly, and opened the door, letting it slam back into the wall. I stood with my hands on my hips, playfully but irritatingly trying to understand the reason he was here. “Ross. Why do you sound like someone was chasing you with a gun?”

"Beth. Why do I see a blank computer screen and a chair sitting by the window instead of near the work space?” Ross mimicked me, smirking. At the last possible second before I responded, he slammed his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side. I assumed that was what I looked like.

“Good comeback,” I snarled, walking backwards into the room. I fell back into my chair and slid it up to the computer desk. I scrolled uselessly over the blank document, wishing that there were words there instead of the emptiness.

Ross stepped inside the room after a minute, closing the door. He yanked a small paper bag from behind his back, taking two large steps toward me and running it in front of my face. “I brought you dinner.”

My eyes lit up. “For me?” I placed a hand on my chest theatrically, snatching the bag from him. “You shouldn’t have…”

“Anything for you… miss. But hey, really, I wanted to make up for earlier. And maybe, I thought, I could help you finish up so we could go out soon?”