Written

Chapter 4

The rest of the interview goes even more smoothly than the first half. Before I know it we have only ten minutes left on-air, and my sides hurt from laughing so much.
Mike asks the boys what they are most looking forward to about being in Atlanta for the next few days. Harry looks straight at me says "I think I might go horseback riding." I
fight to keep myself from smiling and blushing. This is ridiculous, I am an adult. The others in the room are watching us, confused by Harry's ridiculous answer. Rather than ask for an explanation, Mike just shrugs and moves on.

The studio is in a flurry of activity once the interview ends. Pictures are taken, autographs are signed, and assistant producers are pushed into the corner.
Wait, that's only me.
The holding room is suddenly filled with more people than ever, and when I hear a shrill shriek I assume that a few fans have been brought in. Catherine always tries to involve listeners when she can. A shoulder pins me against the wall momentarily before the person moves away, but I decide to stay there.
Getting trampled by crying girls or news reporters was not on my agenda for today.
My eyes sweep the room as I lean against the wall, taking in the scene. I can only describe it as hectic. There are four fans who have been brought in, tears streaming down their faces and entire bodies shaking violently. There are at least twelve photographers and reporters, cameras clicking almost nonstop. And there is one frenzied Catherine, guiding people around, trying not to appear as frantic as I know she is.
My eyes find Harry in the thick of the mess. Although he is surrounded by utter chaos, he seems to be completely at peace. As I watch him bend over and wipe the tears from a little girl's cheeks, my own eyes are in danger of tearing up.
Harry holds the little girl's wrist as she blubbers through her tears, talking about how her mommy got her their CD for Christmas. Harry talks with her for a long time, and I am reminded of how much I love this industry. Music changes people. As much as I want to roll my eyes at all the girls who cry over One Direction, I will not. I understand that music is powerful. I understand the connection between fans and artists, and how it seems like a true friendship. Watching Harry, I begin to think that it is.

Harry straightens up and smiles down at the girl. She runs forward and throws her arms around his legs. He is momentarily caught off guard, but he reaches down and pulls her up into his arms. She lets out a shout of pure joy and my heart feels like it could burst in my chest. People have started to file out of the room, but the little girl and her mother stay engaged in conversation with Harry. All eyes are on them as harry takes the hat from his head and puts it on the little girl. She wraps her arms around his neck in a chokehold and says "I love you," in a voice that has her mother weeping. Harry holds her away from his body and kisses her on the cheek.

"I love you too, Isabella," he says. He sets her back down and with one more hug, Isabella and her crying mother are on their way. Harry finds himself standing next to me again, and this time I don't mind that he's standing too close. Activity commences around us as information is exchanged between teams.

"Are you coming to the show Friday?" Harry asks me.

"Um. No?"

"You don't seem sure," he smirks.

"Something tells me that you're not giving me much of a choice," I say, trying, to stop the smile that is spreading across my face.

"Nope," he laughs. "I'll leave stuff for you at will call." With that, he steps away from me. Each of the boys goes around the room, shaking hands with station employees before leaving.
Harry waves at me over his shoulder before he exits the room.

Everyone from the station is quiet as we listen to their footsteps fade. Cheers erupt as the sound of the elevator doors closing reaches the holding room. It's over. And it went well. Really well.
Congratulations are exchanged, hands are shaken, backs are patted. Suddenly I feel exhausted. Catherine is sitting at a table with her head in her hands, clearly relieved to be done with the day.

"Hayley was GREAT!" Gail yells across the room. People shout their agreements and pat me on the back. I blush and laugh, shrugging off their compliments.
Truthfully, I know I was great. But this is my job, and I am uncomfortable being extensively praised for it.
The room slowly clears until it's only the Mike on the Mic crew left. Catherine's head is still cradled in her hands, and I suspect that she might be crying.

"You've got a little thing with curlyboy," Gail whispers to me, nudging my shoulder.

"What?" I shrug her off.

"Come on!" She crows, throwing her head back. "Everyone could see you two making heart eyes at each other!"

"What?" I ask again. "We were so not!" I cringe at the way I sound like a teenage girl denying being flirtatious to her gaggle of girlfriends.

"If you say soooo!" Gail says in a singsong voice. I just shake my head at her. Mike suggests that we all go for a celebratory lunch together, but I am dead on my feet and Catherine is still having a mental breakdown.
I wish Mike happy birthday one more time before collecting my things from the break room and heading down the stairs.
There are a few fans still standing outside, but they pay me little mind as I walk past them. One girl has an "I heart Harry" T-shirt on, and I amused to think that I just sat at a table with her favorite band member, discussing my career.
I wonder what it feels like to have so many people think that they know you.

It is after three o'clock when I get home, a solid two and a half hours later than usual. I debate calling my mom and Ryan and seeing if they want to grab dinner, but when I flop down on my bed I don't think I will be able to get up. I pull the comforters around me, not even bothering to change out of my dress. Green eyes drift through my thoughts as I fall into sleep.