principles of lust

claytons

My heart is pounding. The elevator arrives on the first floor, and I scramble out as soon as the doors slide open, stumbling once but fortunately not sprawling onto the immaculate sandstone floor. I race for the wide glass doors, and suddenly I'm free in the bracing, cleansing, damp air of London. Raising my face, I welcome the cool, refreshing rain. I close my eyes and take a deep, purifying breath, trying to recover what's left of my mind. No man has ever affected me the way Harry Styles has, and I cannot fathom why. Is it his looks? His civility? Wealth? Power? I don't understand my irrational reaction. I breathe an enormous sigh of relief. What in heaven's name was that all about? Leaning against one of the steel pillars of the building, I valiantly attempt to calm down and gather my thoughts. I shake my head. What was that? My heart steadies to its regular rhythm, and when I can breathe normally again I head for the car.

As I leave the city limits behind, I begin to feel foolish and embarrassed as I replay the interview in my mind. Surely I’m overreacting to something that's imaginary. Okay, so he's very attractive, confident, commanding, at ease with himself – but on the flip side, he's arrogant, and for all his impeccable manners, he's autocratic and cold. Well, on the surface. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine. He may be arrogant, but then he has a right to be- he's made it in to the music industry and is a international global superstar as such a young age. He doesn't suffer fools gladly, but why should he? Again, I’m irritated that Diana didn't give me a brief biography. While cruising towards the m1, my mind continues to wander. I'm truly perplexed as to what makes someone so driven to succeed. Some oh his answers were so cryptic- as if he had a hidden agenda. And Diana's questions- ugh! The adoption and asking him if he was gay! I shudder. I can't believe I said that. Ground, swallow me up now! Every time I think of that question in the future, I will cringe with embarrassment. Damn Diana Bailey! I check the speedometer. I'm driving more cautiously than I would on any other occasion. And I know it's the memory of those penetrating green eyes gazing at me and a stern voice telling me to drive carefully. Shaking my head. I realize that Styles more like a man twice his age. Forget it, lol,I scold myself . I decide that, all in all, it's been a very interesting experience, but I shouldn't dwell on it. Put it behind you. I never have to see him again. I'm immediately cheered by the thought. I switch on the radio and turn the volume up loud, sit back and listen to thumping indie rock music as I press down on the accelerator. As I hit the M1, I realize I can drive as fast as I want.

We live in a small community of duplex apartments close to the WHS campus. I'm so lucky- Diana's parents bought the place for her, and I pay peanuts for rent. It's been home for four years now. As I pull up outside, I know Diana is going to wan a blow-by-blow account, and she is tenacious. Well, at least she has the digital recorder. I hope I won't have to elaborate much beyond what was said during the interview.

“Lol! your back.” Diana sits in our living area, surrounded by books. She's clearly been studying for finals- she's still in her pink flannel pyjamas decorated with cute little rabbits, the ones she reserves for the aftermath of breaking up with boyfriends, for assorted illnesses, and for general moody depression. She bounds up to me and hugs me hard.

“ I was beginning to worry. I expected you back sooner.”

“oh, I thought I made good time considering the interview ran over.” I wave the digital recorder at her.

“Lol, thank you so much for doing this. I owe you, I know, how was it? What was he like?” Oh no -here we go, the Diana Bailey inquisition.

I struggle to answer her question. What can I say?

“I’m glad it's over and I don't have to see him again. He was rather intimidating, you know.” I shrug. “ He's very focused, intense even- and young. Really young.” Diana gazes innocently at me. I frown