oh, anna [-hs]

smoke in her perfume

a/n hello i'm sorry

4.

We split the bill. Thank God. How awkward and date-like would it have been if he had paid? And slowly the second half of my work day winds down. The footage I capture makes me happy, I'm proud of it, but compared to that one shot of Harry I got yesterday, I doubt any of it will stand out in my mind.

He followed me around all day. I didn't expect that at all. I mean, isn't he Harry Styles? International sensation? Isn't he in the middle of writing his next album? How does he have the time to waste a day tailing an amateur filmmaker?

I sell myself short. I am definitely not an amateur, need to stop doing that.

I put away the big camera and am rifling through my stuff when I feel him approach me again. This time, his presence doesn't catch me off guard. I look up, smiling. He stands at the other end of the table, palms face down on the surface, bending down and watching me intently. When he notices my gaze, he gives a sheepish smile back and stands up straight.

"Well, Quinn Bellini, today was--"

"Interesting?" I interject. He laughs and shakes his head.

"I was going to say fun."

I feel a warmness rise in my chest and shrug my bag onto my shoulder. And I'm about to continue the conversation, when a tall woman with straight blonde hair grabs him gently by the arm. And now I'm staring blankly at the two of them.

He leans over for her to whisper into his ear, and nods at whatever she says, and then she gives me a sweet smile and walks away. I blink.

"I need to go now," he clears his throat a little and stuffs a hand into his pockets, presumably to find his keys.

"I should hope so," I chuckle. My eyes dart between her retreating figure and his guilty expression. Guilty. Why guilty? "When will I see you again, Harry?"

"Umm, mmm," he looks down at his watch, his hands still searching for his keys. "Perhaps tomorrow when I come and shadow you again?" I make a face.

"Do you have time for that? Why would you shadow me again?" I feel my features scrunch up. He shrugs and a smirk washes over his face.

"I like watching you work. Like you said, you're my muse."

"Harry," a soft voice calls from behind him. He yanks his keys out of his pocket and nods to me.

"See you tomorrow, Quinn."

I watch him walk away with a sense of excitement in each step. And then he disappears around the corner and I'm still watching the air where he was just standing. It's red hot, there's still traces of his aura where he just was. I sense it.

I methodically pull Cherry off of my shoulder, flipping her open and pressing record. And then I just stand there, quietly breathing, completely still, my camera trained on the spot where he was just standing. Until I can't bear it anymore, the space is too warm, I feel my breath growing shallow. The heat from where he stood is unbearable. I end the recording and close the camera, practically sprinting out of the room and into the cool, New York evening.

I breathe a sigh of relief and look around, hailing a cab. No bus on the way home, I deserve to splurge a little.

I climb into the taxi, ramble off my address, and stare blankly out of the window as the car pulls away. What just happened?

Why was I so on edge all of a sudden? Why was the thought of him so red hot in my mind? I think back to the woman, her body leaning to whisper in his ear. His eyes fell away from me, and suddenly he was chasing after. But why did that make me feel so anxious? I would have done the exact same thing, without a second thought. That's who I am, chasing my feelings, not letting myself get tied down by guilt and sentiment. Get a grip, Bellini. I roll my eyes.