Plaza (HS)

II. Isolated

isolated (adjective): far away from other places, buildings, or people; remote

I shove my brown leather notebook into my bag. The notebook comes around everywhere with me. It holds all the songs I have written and all my thoughts. I haven't written in it much lately, all the appointments I have been driving my mum back and forth from are the main things on my mind. I haven't got time to write music. She's my priority.

It's been three days since I met Harry. I mentally slap myself for looking out for him over the days. Hoping that he would stride through reception. But some things we hope for just don't come true. He's probably isolated himself down in his villa. I don't blame him. You could lose yourself in the beautiful scenery each villa provides. The rolling waves. The lush green surroundings. The perfect quiet.

The sound of a knife blade hitting a chopping board pulls me from my thoughts. Niall chops away at a carrot at the speed of lightning. He scrapes the minuscule cubes off the chopping board and into the pot, then repeats the process with the tomatoes and coriander.

"Niall?"

Niall is the head chef of Styles Plaza; his extravagant creations never cease to amaze me. Today is Saturday, and I've taken a shift in the kitchen tonight since there's nothing to do at home. I may as well earn a bit of extra cash. 

I sit next to the bench Niall is using; I lean against the bench top and stare out into the distance. Some other cooks accompany Niall and me, but they're all at the other side of the kitchen preparing for a massive auction taking place tomorrow night in the Grand Plaza. All the rich and wealthy from around America will be coming to attend, even the employees are invited.

"Mhm," he mumbles back to me.

"Do you know of anyone called Harry Styles?" I timidly ask. Trying not to sound too eager to figure out exactly who Harry is.

"Yeah, why?"

"He's staying here and I took him down to his villa, he seems really-"

"I know him, wouldn't want to mess with him," he cuts me off, sending me a warning glance.

The phone on the wall starts ringing and Niall hastily places down his knife.

"Can you keep chopping the capsicum?" he asks – I don't really have a choice though – as he dashes off to get the phone.

I pick up the knife and chop all of the capsicums he left on the bench until he comes back.

"Emma? That was a room service call. They ordered a bottle of Moët & Chandon champagne. It's in the cupboard over there. There should be a champagne bucket filled with ice in the fridge, just put it in there and take it down."

"What room?"

"Villa 2," he chuckles.

"Harry? You're kidding, right? This has to be a joke." 

"Nope."

I groan as I take the champagne out of the cupboard and place it into the bucket. I walk out of the kitchen after grabbing my bag and head towards the parking area where all the buggies are lined up for staff use. I hop into one and quickly drive it down to Harry's villa. When I arrive there the night sky is dark and only one light in his house is on. I walk up to the door and ring the doorbell. I stand there nervously waiting for Harry's frown to greet me at the front.

The grand entrance light flicks on and I hear Harry walking towards the door. The massive wooden door gradually swings open to reveal Harry. When our eyes make contact my heart beats ten times faster. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his hair's pulled back into a man bun and it's accessorized with a Nike headband. Harry wears an Adidas jumper with a white towel draped over his shoulder and black gym shorts. He looks unintentionally provocative.