Capture

Working Girl

The alarm shrieked far too soon. I groaned and slammed the snooze button, clinging to a few more seconds of warmth. Eventually, I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water loosened my stiff muscles, the steam working through the fog in my brain as I hummed along to the music from my bathroom speaker.

By the time I emerged, I was already behind schedule. Breakfast was a casualty, sacrificed in the name of not being late. I grabbed my bag and keys and slipped into the hallway, still quiet in the early hour.

I drove myself to work—no repeat of yesterday's awkward carpool. Traffic was light. My stomach growled loudly enough to shake the steering wheel, so I stopped for coffee and a breakfast sandwich.

I was still sipping my latte when I heard, "Hold the door, would ya?"

Niall's voice. I reached to stop the elevator. "Morning," he said, breathless.

"Hi," I offered with a tired smile. Words were too much this early.

He looked effortlessly put together in a blue dress shirt and loose yellow tie—relaxed, yet professional. We rode the lift in companionable silence before stepping onto our floor, where Sam intercepted us like a bullet.

"Morning! Meeting in twenty. Conference room. Don't be late!" she said all in one breath, then vanished down the hallway.

"Classic Sam," Niall said, shaking his head. "See you in there?"

"Oh—here." I handed him the second sandwich from the coffee shop. "I bought two like an idiot."

His face lit up. "You're a life-saver."

Once in my office, I sank into my chair and got started editing the Hugh Laurie shoot. It was still surreal seeing celebrities pop up in my workflow like they were part of the furniture. But the moment didn't last long—Niall tapped on my glass, motioning toward the meeting.

"High-profile client?" I guessed as we walked.

"Gotta be," he said. "Fingers crossed for Beyoncé."

"Please. It's probably some moody teen heartthrob."

Niall grinned. "Okay—if it's someone you like, you buy drinks. If I like 'em, I'll buy."

"Deal."

We slipped into the conference room across from Perrie, Eleanor, and Gwen. Sam jumped right in.

"We've got a special client coming in today. No chatter, no leaks—we don't want a mob at the front door."

"You're buying," Niall whispered as I stifled a laugh.

"Mr. Beckham will be here this afternoon for a promo shoot."

"Wait. As in David Beckham?" Perrie blurted.

"Yes. That one," Sam confirmed.

I blinked. David Beckham. No pressure or anything.

Sam turned to me. "Emma, you'll run point on the shoot. Niall's assisting."

"Seriously?" I asked.

"You've earned it." Her smile was sincere. "Make it great."

The buzz around the office afterward was electric. Everyone had opinions on Beckham. I tried to stay focused, planning ways to make the shoot feel fresh. Niall and I agreed to brainstorm after lunch.

The kitchen was already packed when I walked in. Niall was at the center of the conversation, animated and grinning. I sat beside him, setting down my lunch.

"I don't want this Beckham shoot to be by-the-book," I said. "Let's throw in something different."

"Agreed. You thinking stylized action shots or moodier lighting?"

"Let's talk in my office," I offered. "Easier to focus."

Before he could reply, a familiar voice interrupted.

"You two having private meetings now?"

I looked up, my breath catching slightly. Liam. I hadn't even noticed him and Zayn walk in. His bruised lip was still red, swollen from Harry's punch. I tried not to stare... or smile.

"It's a work meeting," I said flatly.

"So tell me Emma? What goes on behind closed doors?" Liam asked ignoring Niall's attempt at holding our client over his head. The insinuation hung there. My skin prickled. He wasn't talking about Niall—I knew that. He meant Harry.

My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

"I have to take this," I said, standing quickly. "Hello?"

A pause. "Oh. I didn't think you'd pick up."

The voice clicked instantly. "Harry?"

"Hi."

"Is everything okay?" My thoughts jumped to my apartment.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine," he said. Then silence. Just breathing on both ends. I glanced back through the kitchen window—Liam was still watching me, his expression unreadable. "I just wanted to thank you for dinner," Harry finally said.

"I should be the one thanking you," I replied, watching Liam glare from his seat. "You saved me."

Harry chuckled. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Well, it meant a lot."

There was another pause. "Actually... that's not the only reason I called."

"No?"

"I... just wanted to hear your voice. Is that weird?"

I felt my cheeks warm. "Not weird at all."

His sigh of relief was audible. "Okay. I'll let you get back to your day. Just—thought I'd say hi."

"Hi." I smiled.

"Hi," I could hear his smile in his tone. "Ok, I'll stop bothering you, talk later, Emma."

"Talk later."

The call ended, and I couldn't stop smiling. Liam was still watching, but I didn't care.

The shoot that afternoon was a blur of camera clicks and charisma. Beckham was charming, professional, and yes—even better looking in person. Niall and I worked seamlessly together.

"Okay, how awesome was that?" Niall asked as we cleaned up.

"He's way more handsome up close."

"I know, right?" He caught himself. "I mean—he's really nice."

I grinned. "Drinks?"

He nodded. "I know a great Irish pub nearby."

The walk was warm, the sunset casting gold across the sky. The pub—Clover Pub—buzzed with energy. A Springsteen song hummed from the jukebox.

"Greg! Two beers, yeah?" Niall called to the bartender.

"You paying this time, or should I put it on the sibling tab again?" the man asked with a smirk.

"Sibling?" I glanced between them, the resemblance clicking into place.

"This is Greg—my brother. And his wife, Denise."

"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking hands.

"Hope you brought patience. Niall's a handful," Greg teased.

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, good beer, and the kind of stories that only come from family.