Life of Mine. [Harry Styles]

1. First Day

                  

Training was over, and I was officially an intern at Bennett Publishing. I looked at myself in my full-length mirror and adjusted my first-day-of-work outfit. I was dressed in a navy-blue skirt that hugged my hips, a cream blouse tucked in, and a pair of black Jimmy Choo heels. I grabbed my knock-off handbag and headed out of my room and into my small kitchen.

            My New York apartment was nothing special. It was in a beautiful area, near the Upper East Side, but it was small and barely fit all of Emily and I's belongings. We were grateful to be here despite our shoebox apartment, but it was a little rough bumping into each other all the time.

            "Wow, you look like so professional!" Emily's bright blue eyes widened as she looked up from her breakfast. "I'm glad one of us has a job."

            "You're not exactly hunting for work, Em," I sighed, putting a cinnamon K-cup in the Keurig and taking a seat next to my best friend. "It's not like you wouldn't get a job if you actually tried."

            "It's so much fun living off your money!" she chuckled, throwing a cheerio at me.

            Emily was only joking, thankfully. Like me, she came from a wealthy family. Unlike me, they actually supported her move to New York City. She got a massive monthly allowance from her family and used it to fill her wardrobe with designer clothes and pay for our rent. Her dream was to be a fashion designer, and so far, she only had a degree from a community college and three unfinished sketches. I was always rooting for her, and I knew she would make it eventually.

            "I'm so grateful I actually have a job," I sighed, getting up to get the milk out of the refrigerator. "I expected to get here and starve to death without my allowance."

            "You gotta give yourself more credit, Ros," Emily rolled her eyes and took a huge bite of her bacon omelet. "You never needed your family's money. You're ridiculously smart."

            "They just always taught me I'd either join the family business or fail at life," I shrugged, pouring a cup of coffee and sitting by my friend again.

            "I love Ruthie and George but they should've raised you to believe in yourself, not their family business." She reached over and squeezed my shoulder.

            Emily was the only person who always believed in me. We met in fourth grade when I was writing a short story during recess. Nobody talked to me back then. I was rich, snobby little Rosalyn Jones who wore designer clothes to school and packed a lunch made by my own personal chef. I lived in the wealthiest neighborhood in Dallas, guarded from the rest of the world by gates and passwords. And I hated it. I couldn't leave the house unless it was with a friend my parents approved of. They barely accepted Emily.

            There I was, sitting in the corner of the basketball court, writing about the birds I saw in my backyard. They were the most free creatures I'd ever seen, and I wanted to be like them. Emily, the class clown, took a seat next to me and peered over my paper. After I politely asked her not to read my personal work, she laughed at me for being such a snob, but decided we were best friends. I ended up letting her read the story, she loved it, and our friendship has not changed since.

            Except now, I was defying my parents for the first time in my life. Instead of taking over the family business, I was chasing my dream of becoming a writer. Without their permission, and without my allowance, I packed a few bags, grabbed my best friend, and moved to New York. Emily had enough money to get us started, and my degree in business and English from the University of Notre Dame landed me a paid internship at Bennett Publishing. My plan was to work there until I became an established author and could live off movie deals and best-selling novels. Far-fetched, maybe, but I learned from my best friend to dream big.

            "You should probably get going. Didn't some of the actual employees want coffee?" Emily reminded me, handing me my Kate Spade planner.

            "Shit! I totally forgot," I leapt from my seat, grabbed my planner and my bag, hugged my friend goodbye, and rushed out the door.

            I hailed a taxi because I feared the subway would be too much of a hassle, forgetting how busy the streets of New York were at eight-thirty on Monday mornings. Silly me.

            I stopped at Starbucks to get coffee for the employees on the second floor of Bennett Publishing, and it was busier than usual. I took a few deep breaths, whispered 'blue skies in, gray skies out', and took out my notepad with all of the employees' orders on them.

            "No, I don't want to meet with you. No. I have to go." The boy in front of me barked into his phone. He had a thick Irish accent and I couldn't help but eavesdrop.

            "What can I get you?" the barista asked him as he reached the front of the line.

            "Uh, just a black coffee please. Grande." The boy attempted to fake an American accent and sounded a bit like a hillbilly.

            "Can I get a name for your order?" the barista smiled, raising a cup and a sharpie.

            "Um, Neil." He nodded, his Irish accent slipping back in. Why was he trying to hide it?

            "Coming right up," the barista nodded. "Next!"

            After giving the barista my novel-long order, I glanced over at the Irish hillbilly who was angrily looking at his phone. He looked so familiar...

            "Oh. My. God." My jaw dropped as it clicked who I was looking at. "Are you Niall? Like, from One Direction?"

            "Not this year," he laughed and shook his head.

            "Oh yeah, I heard you were on some sort of break. You know, N'SYNC took a break too. They're still on break." I was desperate to keep conversation. I had never met a celebrity before, and now I was talking to Niall from One Direction. Emily was going to flip. She used to have a Louis cutout in her room.

            "Do you always ramble this much?" he laughed, his Irish accent completely present again.

            "Sorry, you're just like...really famous!" I felt my cheeks turn red as I extended my hand. "I'm Rosalyn. You probably don't care but yeah. I'm Rosalyn."

            "Nice to meet you. You're funny." He laughed again.

            "Neil!" the barista announced, handing him his coffee. He gave her a polite smile and took the coffee before turning back to me.

            "Well, it was nice to meet you, Rosalyn. See you around?" he waved as he left.

            "Yeah, see you around!" I laughed and waved back.

            My first day was going pretty well so far.