a taste like kiwi ↠ [h.s]

Ⅰ . Sexiest Man Alive

   ↠

Blinded by the sunrise, you lowered the screen of the airplane window. It would only be another hour until the plane would land in New York, where you'd have to adjust from a country lifestyle to a city one. You shifted in your seat, letting out a soft sigh. It was okay to admit to yourself you were nervous. It certainly didn't help to google search your new boss after you were confirmed for the job as his assistant. There were multiple stories, most were about his wealth but there were some about his personality. Kind and generous. Those two words were scattered along articles repeatedly, shoving it into people's faces as if they were putting up a front. Mr. Styles is even voted Sexiest Man Alive of 2018, he certainly deserved the title. His face was on dozens of magazines and you would know because you did your research on him. In your luggage, there was dozens of magazines with his face on it. 

You paused, remembering what you stuffed into your purse just before you boarded the plane. Why did it take you so long to remember? You reached inside your purse, pulling out the same magazine you read over and over again, trying to gather information on him just so you knew who you were working for.

You displayed the magazine in front of you.

You flipped throug+h the pages until you were at the article. You skimmed through the lines, processing the basic understanding of how he came to be. Harry was found through his best friend, Niall Horan who is now working for Harry. He has special treatments, but Harry quoted, "Although he's the one who recognized my potential and helped me through tough situations, he's still works for me. Not that he minds it." 

I: What sort of tough situations are you implying?

H: I had an addiction with cocaine. Mr. Horan helped me get better, and eventually, he helped me rise to the top. Because of him I have my own record studio, the most requested studio artists come from around the world for. Just to record their next big hit.

You looked away from the article. Mr. Styles's story is inspiring. He came from a broken background only to be mend by a best friend, who helped him become a millionaire. You continued reading.

I: Any lucky lady in your life?

H: Harry Styles smirked, looking down to his hands. He twirled the jewel on his ringer finger. As many know, I'm engaged to the lovely Layla Grayson. 

Layla Grayson. Model, actress, and soon-to-be-wife of Harry Styles. Beautiful bright blue eyes, porcelain skin, and long blonde hair. Layla caught every man and woman's attention, having them drool like dogs at the very ground she walked on--which is rumoured to be silk. She was everyone's type, but that's all you really knew about her. You considered researching her, but shrugged it off once you reminded yourself you'd be working for Mr. Styles, not Layla. You closed the magazine, rolled it up, and stuffed it back into your purse.