Caught in a Lie ~ h.s.

♕ XI ♕

♕♕♕

When I met Niall behind Pierre's boutique I ran up to hug him and never wanted to let go. It seemed like ages since I had seen him last. His usual clean-shaven face now was home to some stubble, making him look more grown up than before. During our ride to Harry's place of work we caught up. He told me about his fiancée and I told him about my many phone conversations with Harry. Whilst he was still weary about Harry, he kept a smile on hips lips whenever I spoke about him. We talked all the way until approaching the building reading: Atler Financials.

"Are you sure this is the place?"

"This is the place."

"Text me before half-five and let me know where to come and get you. If not -"

"You'll track my phone like the last time. I got it, Niall." We smile at each other before I reach across the centre console and give him a hug. "I never really get to thank you for everything you do for me. I do appreciate you and I can't picture my life without you. Thank you for putting up with me and thank you for helping me with this whole escape the palace thing."

"Don't mention it, kid." He smiles brighter when I pull away from our embrace, earning a roll of the eyes from me. Our touching moments never last long before one of us cracks a joke or lightens the mood another way.

"Stop, you're only a year older." With a deep breath I pull down the mirror above the dash and make sure there's not a hair out of place and that my glasses are fingerprintless. "How do I look?"

"Harry's a lucky lad." I nudge Niall in the shoulder before bidding him goodbye and swiftly exiting the car. It's a tad hard to get in and out of vehicles in this dress, but whoever said fashion is easy?

My heels clack against the pavement as I make my way towards the spotless glass doors, pulling the handle with ease. The air con is strong, blowing a few strands of my hair everywhere, and for a second I fear my wig's taken flight, but thankfully it hasn't with the titanium-like glue. An older woman sits behind a desk near the main entrance, looking in my direction as my shoes alert her of my presence. I send her a wide-toothed grin, even though the nerves are eating my intestines, and approach her.

"Welcome to Atler FInancials. Do you have an appointment today?" She's a jolly lady with greying hair and bright pink lipstick. Her eyeglasses are hanging on the bridge of nose, the lens almost too large in size.

"Not exactly. I'm looking for Harry Styles." The woman nods her head before turning her attention to the computer screen in front of her. My eyes take the time to wander the open concept of this place.

The interior is rather industrial with exposed brick walls and exposed piping along the ceiling. Whilst it's very open feeling, there are multiple offices lining the back wall, all encased in frosted over glass. There's a conference table in the centre of the room which looks like it also purposes as a breakroom. It's not the most extravagant of places, but it's nice.

"Well, he's just finishing with a client and then he's open for the remainder of the day. Would you mind waiting just a few minutes?"

"Not at all."

"Wonderful!" The woman chippers, standing to her feet. Her height is short, only coming up to my chest, then again I am now wearing five inch Louboutins so she's probably not that short. "I'll let him know that you're here, Ms..."

"Mary Claire." God, why did I choose that name? "Thank you." She tells me to have a seat, pointing towards two leather chairs across from her work area. I watch as she saunters down the corridor, her gait slow but determined. She reaches the first office, knocking twice on the door before opening the door a crack and sticking her head inside. My eyes are glued in her direction, my nerves sky-rocketing now that he officially knows that I'm here.