Choose Your Own Direction - Harry Styles

Busy Work

“ You don't have to be that tense my dear. I don't bite.” Hugh placed a napkin over his suit-clad lap. “ Hard anyway.”

You gulp as your fingers nervously run across the silverware set before the both of you. It had been a long time since you've been able to go to a place as fancy as this. You you're fine dining isn't as fresh as you'd like.

“ So h-have you seen any good audition options lately?”

“ Yes actually. I was debating whether or not to take the job.”

You continued picking and then re-smoothing the cloth. Before the silence became unbearable you ask, “ Why not? Its a tough business.”

“ I erm,” He reached another hand to his locks. “ There is a lady I sort of fancy...and I don't think doing a risque scene with Scarlet Johannson will help me win her over.”

“ Oh...” You bite your lip. “ She's gonna be the lead?”

“ No, she's rumored to audition soon. But nonetheless...”

“ Why don't you ask someone to audition with you?”

“ Good idea...” He rubs his bottom lip with the back of his thumb. “ Do you need a role?”

His sudden words and light baby blues left a lump in your throat and shiver in your spine. “ I um,” You knock over your glass, causing a good portion of the restaurant to glance in your direction. You desperately grab at the shards, but the waiter waves you away. Hugh just handed over a napkin with an amused smile. Blushing furiously you dab at the wet spots now adorning your dress.

Hugh had his head cradled on his hand as his arm rested on the table. You gulp, staring at the floor. It seemed to get fuzzy and peoples words started to sound like a cacophony of locusts.

Oh no, not here please no.

“ So, what kind of music do you listen to?” Hugh asks politely. You look up, noticing all the people noticing you. You try to breathe slowly, despite your racing heart.

“ I like the er- Ramones, Led Zeppelin, that sort of thing.”

Please just be a migraine.

His head tilted a fraction and his eyes lit up. “ Is that so?”

You nodded feebly.

He drops his hand. “Are you feeling quite right love?” He reached his hand over to your shaking one.

You nod, attempting to be casual as you lift from your seat and race to the restroom.

Everything appeared to slow down. All you could faintly make out was a crinkling of paper and very warm-very strong-hands on your arms by the time you reached the door.

“ Leaving so soon?” His voice seemed so loud. You whipped around, or at least tried. You flailed in his arms as he pulled you out of the restaurant. He let go of you partially. Enough for you to escape....