When Samantha James becomes One Direction's personal assistant, she gets more than she bargains for. Falling for Harry Styles is one of them. But things aren't always easy or beautiful, because Sam has secrets--dark ones, and she'll do anything to h...
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My acting coach was frustrated with me and I was frustrated with myself. I was trying hard to focus, but I couldn't. All I could think about was Sam and how everything was going. If they even were going... a part of me was worried that she'd chickened out and didn't show up at all.
In the middle of reading my lines for the seventh time, my phone rang. My coach gave me a look and rolled his eyes, waving me off to answer it. I apologized quickly and answered it without looking at the screen. "Hello?"
Sobbing. Heaving. Panting. That's all I could hear. My heart was hammering in my chest. "Hello...?" I repeated and pulled the phone from my ear to look at the name on display. Sam. "Sam? Oh, God. Sam?"
"They're—they're... oh, my God," she groaned. I heard her gag and then cough. What was going on? I opened the door to my hotel room to find Preston standing outside of it standing guard. I pulled the phone away from my ear.
"Get the car. We have to go get Sam," I ordered quietly and put the phone back to my ear. "Sam, love. Tell me what happened." We walked swiftly to the elevator.
All I could hear was her sobbing. "This isn't real, this isn't real," she muttered. "Fuck!"
There was another voice in the background, a woman's. Was it her mother? "Leave me alone," Sam practically growled at the person.
The elevator stopped in the lobby and I spotted the car out front. Preston stayed close behind as I wove through fans and paparazzi. There was conversation on the other end but the screaming made it nearly impossible to decipher what was being said. Preston slammed the door shut behind him and the car headed off.
"I knew this was a bad idea," Sam cried. "I knew it."
"I'm on my way, okay? I'm coming to get you. You're going to be fine," I said softly.
The drive to get Sam felt like an eternity. She was crying into the line and gagging, hinting that she was probably getting sick or already had been. I could hear another voice in the background but Sam wasn't acknowledging it, so neither did I. Nothing I said seemed to calm her down. I was hoping that once I was in front of her, something could be done.
The car came to a screeching halt at her parent's house. There she was, on her knees in the grass, holding herself up by her palms. She was no longer crying, but instead just sitting there, her face masked by her hair. She was incredibly still.
"Sam," I said softly, inching my way over to her. "Baby?"
She didn't speak or move. I slowly reached my hands down and placed them on her shoulders. Sam flinched and looked up at me, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. Pale wet streaks glistened on her cheeks from her insistent crying.
