Being the Beard

I Become A Walking, Talking Cliche

The cold wind nipped my face. 4 more blocks and then I can have my coffee, I thought. My headphone rang out the last few notes of Girl Almighty by One Direction. It was one of my favorite songs. There was a slight pause as my phone shuffled to the next song and then Sign Of The Times by Harry Styles began.

Images flashed in my head and I had trouble breathing. Tears pool in my eyes. I look down at the ground and try to blink them away. It doesn't work because a couple of tears roll down my cheeks and fall onto the sidewalk. I'm wiping them away when I crash into someone headfirst. My head jerks up and through my tears I see a coffee cup
falling from one hand and a cell phone from another. Instinctively, I reach out and catch the phone.

"I'm so sorry. Are y-," I begin, looking up to see who it was. Emerald green eyes and brown curls were all I saw before I reached in and hugged the man. "Tristan?" I questioned. But even before the person said anything, I knew it couldn't be Tristan. It could never be Tristan. The man that I was hugging was taller, his hair shorter, and he smelled different. He also stiffened as I hugged him, hesitantly raising his arms to embrace me. I pulled back and studied at him again.

My eyes widened in surprise before I managed to choke out, "You're The HARRY STYLES!"

Before he could say anything the paps were surrounding us, pouring in from all over. Harry grasped my arm and led me into an awaiting car, slamming the door behind him after we got in.

"I don't think you were my assigned beard," He states, as if this was an ordinary occurrence.

"Um, no." I mumbled, still awestruck by him.

"You know my name, but I still don't know yours." He said, breaking the awkward silence.

"Kathrine Victoria Jacobs." I replied

"Kathrine?" He questioned.

"My dad is British, my mom is Indian. She's from a state called Kerala where many people are catholic, hence my name. Anymore questions?" I remarked, clearly annoyed that he had judged be for how I looked. But then again, so did almost everyone else.

Harry looked like he had many more questions but didn't dare to ask any. We sat in silence for a few more minutes, and then the car stopped at a hotel just outside of New York City.

"Come on. We have to go see management." He said.

"Why do I have to come. Can't you handle this by yourself?" The panic
evident in my voice.

"Because you got photographed with me. Those paparazzi were set up there to spark dating rumors between me and this girl that management found. Now that you were the one in the pictures, you'll probably have to pretend to be my girlfriend for a while." He explained.

"Why do you need someone to pretend to be your girlfriend?" I questioned.

Harry had a pained look in his eyes. "If management makes you my fake
girlfriend, then I'll tell you."

I just nodded and let Harry lead me to a conference room in the hotel. A group of men and women were sitting solemnly, waiting for us. Harry took a seat and motioned for me to do the same.

The man sitting in the center gave me a wide grin. "I'm Mike. You were the wrong girl, clearly. But, the paps got great shots. You looked so happy to see him and immediately went in for the hug, brilliant. To be fair you do look similar to the beard we hired. We took the contract from the hired beard and are offering it to you."

I sat in stunned silence. "May I look over the agreement and make some
changes?" I asked once I found my voice. Mike nodded and handed me his
laptop. I typed up some things, deleted others , and added more rules. Management looked over the first few pages before printing it out, having everyone sign it, and putting it away.