The "Biggest" Fan (EN)

31.

Matt sat behind his desk, professional and serious, while I, in contrast, sat legs sprawled, laid back like a teenager whose parents had been called to the principal's office.

"Alright, fifth candidate," Matt announced, inviting the next man into the room. Broad shoulders, clean-shaven head, and a face so stoic it probably hadn't cracked a smile since 2008.

Matt glanced at the notes jotted on his clipboard. The guy started speaking, his voice so deep it sounded like it came with bass reverb. And I tried, halfheartedly, not to look as unprofessional as I was, but my attention span was already gasping for air.

"You wrote that you have extensive experience as a celebrity bodyguard?" Matt asked.

"Yes, correct. I used to work at..." The man began, rattling off names of people and companies I'd never heard of. My brain had already tuned out ignoring every sound as if it was noise.

"Do you have any secret talents?" I interrupted suddenly, breaking whatever conversation they were having, "Like talking backwards or I don't know... Juggling?"

Both of them stared at me, clearly thrown off. Okay, so maybe my timing wasn't great, but in my defense, the interview had already lost me at 'celebrity bodyguard'.

"Excuse me?" The guy asked, who's name I still didn't catch, his expression as serious as ever.

"Oh, come on. I'm done with all of this," I declared dramatically, raising my hands and looking at Matt. He sighed deeply, thanked the man for his time, and sent him on his way.

Matt clicked his pen, fixing me with a sharp look, "Can you at least pretend to be interested?"

"No offense, but these guys seem better suited for saving presidents than sneaking me out for tacos," I crossed my legs and shot him a pointed look, daring him to argue. If I was going to be stuck with someone, they couldn't be the type to silently judge my every move.

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose like he was two seconds away from breaking something, "Well, if you don't pick someone today," he said slowly, "You're not attending Harry's event tomorrow."

My head snapped up, "Excuse me?"

"You need a bodyguard to go. Non-negotiable," Matt said with a shrug.

"But I can't not go," I protested, "I have an interview arranged with Harry there."

Matt's pen stilled mid-tap as he slowly raised his eyes to meet mine, squinting, "Why didn't I know about this?"

"Probably because I didn't tell you until now?" I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

"It's not your job to arrange your own interviews, Louis," Matt said, his voice tight with frustration.

"I didn't," I shot back. Of course, it was Victor's idea, but maybe it would kill the rumors about me and Harry fighting. "Also, I thought you wanted me to keep my image good. An interview with Harry? Very good, right?" I added with a grin.

Matt sighed, "I want to believe you're doing this because you're mature and really care about your image," he said, still tapping his pen, "But I don't," His eyes rolled subtly, but he didn't push the matter.

No, Matt. I was doing it because I'm dating Harry Styles, and it's part of his producer's little game to keep our image squeaky clean. But, you know, just tiny details, right?

"Let's move on," Matt said abruptly, "Next candidate."

The door opened, and another man walked in. He was a bit older than the others — late forties, fifties maybe — and had an endearing awkwardness about him. His suit was slightly rumpled, and when he introduced himself, his voice was polite rather than intimidating.