CEO // Harry Styles

2

"Our own office?" He shrieked, his arm flailing, accidentally knocking over the mug of coffee that sat proudly at his desk. Most at the office reveled in the substance, and our lack of virtue towards it. We were addicted.

"Yes! Our own office and everything! Can you imagine? Our own phone, assistant?" It was hard to breathe, and my breaths came out in short puffs, my arms stayed pressed against his broad shoulders in attempt to keep up.

I smell the future as my nose twitches, and it's not from the cold.

Louis' eyes were wide with adoration. "Our own coffee machine?" He practically whispered, causing to me to break out in a grin, while picking up the spilt coffee, before discarding the main chunk of glass into the bin below his computer.

"Yes, our own coffee machine. Maybe then I won't have the task of bringing others the wrong sweetener, or sugar. Bastards." Louis grinned back at me, swallowing the grand opportunity as a whole, not even chewing.

"But who will we interview?" Sadness takes over his face, and I follow, frowning at the new dilemma we have been faced with.

"I have no clue, Lou. No one will want to be interviewed by two nameless interns." I remind him, my hands flat on his shoulders, as they rub up and down to keep the perspiration ingrained in his blue button down.

"Styles." He takes a deep breathe, his eyes wild. "Harry Styles."

I snort, "Sure. May as well get the queen of England on board to," I banter with him, mindlessly trying to ease up on the unobtainable task.

"You're a hot intern from fucking Vogue! How could he not take an interview, when you're involved?" He scoffs.

"Hot? More like ungrateful twat." He frowns. The grit of his teeth as they chatter gives way the lifeless smile beneath the surface.

"Oh, come on Lou! Take a joke!" I exclaim, but his frown stays intact.

His eyes flicker from my eyes to his watch, and he breathes a deep sigh. "It's noon. Let's get lunch before were caught up by the daily rush." He persuades, but I'm starving, the offer doesn't take much to make me agree, nodding my head like a dog, heading to my cubicle to fetch my purse, and coat.

The walk is short, to the small Chinese place down the street. Vogue is in the heart of the city, making unplanned lunches filled with variety.

"Where do you want to order from tonight?" Louis asks me as he pulls open the door, holding it for me, as he stares off onto the multiple on lookers of the great city.

I quietly thank him, and step inside, cursing myself for not wearing layers on such a cold day. "I don't care. Sushi is sushi, as long as we don't order from King TakeOut." I mumble.

We are seated quickly surprisingly, as the lunch rush has yet to hit the small restaurants that sit adjacent to each other on the crowded streets.

"What would you two like to order?" A perky blonde greeted us, identifying herself as Pam. She was certainly attractive, and this fact was proven by the multiple attracted eyes that scattered the now crowded restaraunt.

"Chicken Alfredo," I answer solemnly, nodding my head to my favorite on the leather menu.

Louis remained indescisive as usual, needing to try something new each and every time. Unlike me, who played the game safe in the exact pasta dish. "I'll have to try the grilled steak ma'am." He tipped his imaginary hat to her. His act caused up to errupt in laughter, the small space of our set table and chair filled with cries of joy.

The basics were taken from his mouth, mashed potatoes, shrimp, or what not, as I paid no mind. My eyse trailed behind him to find a very attractive waiter at an empty table, using his white rag to wash down the dirty seating area. He had raven colored hair, the shape of spikes, the ones bikers had, and truly endearing.