Paper Boy //h.s. (ON HOLD)

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Harry unlocked his apartment, and cautiously stepped inside. He had an armload of papers in his satchel that he had to edit tonight and even spilling over the paper would take time, something Harry was not very fond of. He undid his tie, unbuttoned the front of his shirt and kicked off his shoes .

Harry's cat, Socks, ran across his kitchen floor and hopped up onto his table, turning her gaze to him as her tail flicked this way and that.

"Hello. I bet your day was better than mine," Harry groaned and made his way to his bedroom where another desk was. He slopped down in his seat and unpacked his coworkers and employees papers. There he stacked them and took the one off the very top, smacking it down on his desk and rubbed his forehead, investigating the paper for mistakes and suggestions. He grabbed his reading glasses from his satchel as well and put them on. Hours passed while Harry edited with nothing to hear but the scribbled of his pen and occasional throaty grunts of frustration.

By the time his task was done it was eleven. 'Eleven?' Harry turned off his desk lamp and carried himself to his bed, flopping down on it. He took off his socks, shirts and threw them on the floor. He changed into his pajama pants, too tired to bother a shirt. He lied down and pulled his blanket over his torso, rolling onto his side and shutting his eyes, satisfied that this long day was done.

And then his phone rang. His eyes shot open, his jaw tightened. He threw himself out of bed and onto the floor, getting tangled into the blanket, cursing under his breath as he stood up and fell down.

'This hell just never end does it?'

Finally he reached his cell phone, tucked in his satchel. He pulled it out and answered with a tight and raspy tone.

"Hello?"

"This is Richard Banks. I wanted to let you know that you should come early tomorrow and see me in my office. I would like to talk with you."

"Sure, I'll be there." Harry faked his pleasant tone, he was boiling inside.

"That's my boy. Goodnight Styles."

"Goodnight." He hung up briskly and slammed his phone onto his desk, surely adding a crack to the screen with his aggressive nature. He then wasted no time in getting back in bed. Within seconds he was asleep.

*****

"Harry Styles there you are! I wasn't expecting you to be here so early." Mr. Banks teased. "Take a seat." Harry ran a sweaty hand through his hair and took a seat at the very familiar desk.

"What is it?" Harry asked, concerned for his job.

"I received a letter from Ms. Wilcox in reply. I have it here, read it." Mr. Banks handed Harry a sheet of paper which read:

___

 Dear 'The Times',

I am unsure as to what your name is since you sign it only with your company name. I do thank you for your reply and and very esteemed that you think of me in such a way.

Thank you for your time and thought.

 Effie Wilcox

___

Harry looked up at Mr. Banks.

"What does this mean to me for me to come half an hour early?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"I want you," Mr. Banks cleared his throat, "to go to her classes and see if we did in fact turn down a good opportunity. Sign up for her class and come in as a student. Don't tell them you're from the press until the end of the school year. I want to see if she might be good for this company."