Elusive [Harry Styles]

5. Winning Over The Wilful

"What are you doing here, Harry?" she sighed, leaning back in her chair. I still hadn't managed to get my head around how pretty she was, even now I just couldn't stop admiring her.

"I wanted to see you again."

There was a pause. "I saw that interview."

"You did?" I wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing. The way she said it made it out to sound as though it was bad, but what could possibly be bad about it?

"I did," she nodded.

"Forgive me if I'm missing something here, but am I supposed to know what you're inferring by bringing it up?" I asked carefully, I was truly puzzled but didn't want to sound cluelessly rude.

"I just... I don't get it? Now more than ever, actually."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"I thought you enjoyed yourself that night, but the way you spoke about me in the interview it just didn't sound like you did. You played it so cool, like it was nothing, but now here you are... in my office telling me you want to see me again?" she explained, and I was shocked. How could she think I didn't enjoy my evening with her?

"That's not it at all, really it's not. That's just how we're taught to respond to intrusive questions — to give as little information as possible and try to avoid giving too much about our personal lives away," I told her, "In all honesty, I slipped up by letting them even know your name."

She smiled briefly, but it faded to nothing in an instant. "Okay."

"Emily, I want to see you again. And I don't mean like this, I mean I want to see you again... properly, like the night at the bar," I probably sounded desperate and totally uncool, and I was.

"That's sweet, it really is, but... I don't know how to explain this... but I didn't want you to find me."

"Why?" I asked glumly.

"It's more complicated than I care to explain, Harry..."

"I have all day," I persisted.

"But I don't. In case you haven't noticed, I run this place," she reminded me, raising her hands to refer to the building we were in, "And that's partly why I can't see you again."

"Please, at least tell me why in full. When's your lunch break? I'll wait," I offered pleadingly.

"My lunch break is in half an hour, but I'll be right here... working."

It was odd to hear that someone's life might be more hectic than mine. For once it wasn't me saying I had no time and had to work, it was someone with a somewhat 'ordinary' job — well, more ordinary than being a pop star.

"Come on, I know you have ten minutes to talk to me. I heard you say no appointments to your assistant," I said cheekily.

She rolled her eyes and smiled at me — but it wasn't quite that smile I was longing to see. "That's because I have other work to do!" she chuckled.

I gave her my best puppy-dog eyes, batting my eyelashes sadly at her. I wasn't giving up that easily.

Eventually, she huffed in defeat. "Fine, fine! We'll talk. But if my business goes bust in my absence then it's on you, Styles."

"Of course, I'll be more than happy to take the blame."

After a moment of thought, she said, "I simply don't have the time nor the patience," she simplified things, putting it bluntly, and I felt my heart sink a little in my chest. "I didn't want you to find me because I didn't want any of this to happen. I wanted you to leave that bar with a nice memory of a fun night just like I did, not have your fans track me down like I was a criminal on the run."