a taste like kiwi ↠ [h.s]

IX. Sex Toy

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Your eyes stared up at your ceiling, your body not wanting to move the next morning. You recalled the events from yesterday. You turned down "lunch" with Mr. Styles, Mia was actually being nice to you, and you were really excited about working today.

After showering and getting dressed for the day, you walked out onto the sidewalk. You quickly overcame the obnoxiously loud city, sticking your hands into your trench coat as your legs carried you toward the direction of Styles Records. You stepped over puddles from last night's rainfall, glancing up at the sky which gloomed above. You made the smart move by bringing a trench coat.

The most satisfying part about your walk was once you passed the construction workers, there were no catcalling or wolf whistling coming from any of them. You smiled to yourself as you walked by, crossing the street and into the building of Styles Records. You stripped your trench coat immediately after stepping inside, taking the elevator up onto your office floor.

Once you stepped into your office, the realization hit you; you forgot Mr. Styles coffee. Your shift has already started so you'd have to tell him the truth and wait until he gives you permission to fetch it. You stepped in front of his door, softly hitting your knuckles against the frame. You barely heard him say, "come in". You walked in, stopping right under the doorframe. Your fingers twirled together as you spoke softly, "It seems I forgot your coffee, Mr. Styles. If you let me I can head right over--"

"No, it's fine." He said in a low voice, his eyes stuck on his laptop screen.

"Are you sure? I know how much you love your--"

"I'm fine." He softly said.

Should you insist?

You looked at him for a bit until giving up and walking out. He seemed off to you. He didn't give his usual lecture or deadly tone whenever you did forget something...he was more quiet. With the thoughts running back in your head, you walked around your desk and sat down. You logged into your work computer, openining Mr. Styles's schedule--your eyes widened. His schedule was cleared off for today. You frantically looked up "last edited" which would tell you who and what time the schedule had been edited. Maybe you accidentally erased it all? Maybe you didn't notice--your eye brows lowered in confusion.

Last edited: Harry Styles 5:34am

This morning?

You stood up again, knocking against his door. After his voice yet again quietly invited you in, you walked in front of his desk, "Mr. Styles? It seems you may have accidentally deleted your schedule for today--"

"It wasn't an accident." Mr. Styles replied, the fingers on his keyboard slowing down. When you didn't reply, he looked up at you, "I'm going to a business party. You'll be attending as well. Wear the same dress I bought you--"

"Unless I'm getting paid there's no need for me to go." You stated boldly, yet your fingers twirled together nervously.

Mr. Styles's lips parted. He looked away and nodded, "You will be paid."

"And I think I'll buy my own dress for the party."

Mr. Styles didn't look up, "That's all, (Y/N). You can leave now." And although it was an order, his voice was soft yet again. You nodded, slowly walking away. You knew something was wrong. You knew that and there was something in you that wanted to ask him if he's okay. But do bad bitches do that? What would Mia do?

Before you could decide whether or not to ask, you were already out his office. You shut the door behind you, pressing your back against it. Your head titled up, letting out a deep breath. You were becoming much more bold with your sentences, but the nerves always snuck back in. You wondered if Mr. Styles ever felt nervous or anxious whenever he was bold. Maybe back in the day? Or maybe he was always the type to give orders.