Lights. Camera. PDA. (HS // au)

Same old shit but a different day

Harry

"Look at this." My Manager slash Agent, Gary Richards, threw the magazine on the table.

I raise my gaze from my phone to glance at it for a fraction of a second and then go back to playing Temple Run.

I love this game. It's just so thrilling and it makes you forget all that's going around you. Except for the fact that Guy Dangerous absolutely sucks. He has no special abilities.

"Another article on the same issue. I just don't know how to go around it anymore." Gary continues blabbering, mostly to himself.

Next time, I'm playing with Scarlet Fox.

"I don't understand. Why do they keep publishing the same thing over and over again as if their lives depended on it? I'm sick of it."

She has much more abilities than this dumb player. The only downside to her is that she screams in a weird way when she falls.

"I'm gonna try and get an interview done to clarify everything- Harry Edward Styles! Are you even listening to me?!"

His sudden outburst causes me to lose my focus and I end up tilting my phone towards the right when I should've tilted it towards the left. Guys Dangerous gracefully slams into a tree and the game's over.

I look up at Gary. With a couple inches taller than me, he's broad and has a strong, lean built. I almost took him for my personal body guard when I first met him. He's been with me since the start, always looking out for me and doing the best he can for my image. I'm really glad I have him as my Manager. Though right now, his face is annoying me.

"You killed Guy Dangerous. Are you happy now, Godzilla?"

"There is yet another article about you and you're more concerned about the game!"

I honestly wish he would stop screaming. Why is he screaming, anyways? It's just him and I in my apartment. It's not like we're sitting in the middle of a fish market that he has to scream his lungs out.

"Do you want me to read it?" I ask, not really caring what his answer would be.

"Read it?" He snorts and passes his hands through his short black hair for probably the hundredth time. "I want you to tell me that why do you give the paparazzi the chance to point their finger at you!"

I sigh heavily. I stopped caring about these articles and "news" a long time ago. I stepped foot in the filming industry when I was seventeen years old, just fresh off arriving to California from my hometown, Cheshire in the UK.

My first audition for a romantic comedy had been a blast and the Director had somewhat fallen in love with me. I had also made the mistake of instantly dating my first ever co-star. Naturally, it didn't work because of the antagonistic roles we each had and our differences got to the point that the production of the film was in jeopardy. That was when the first article regarding me being a "womanizer" was published.

"You and I both know that they don't need a chance to publish articles. They need to provide the public with gossip. It's their job and that is what they do. You've been here longer than me, you should know; it's the same old shit but a different day."

"Harry.." He sounds tired as he takes my name. "This is probably the umpteenth time that they've called you a womanizer."

"What do you want me to do?!" I flail my arms in the air. "What, I can't even hangout with my friends anymore? I can't take photos with them? They have labelled me as one and they won't stop."