oh, anna [-hs]

successful

28.

QUINN'S POV
ONE MONTH LATER

I wake up the day of at 5:00 AM. Emma groans at the sound of my alarm and rolls over. I pull myself out of bed and turn it off, glancing out our window at the dark morning. The sun hasn't decided to rise yet.

I sleepwalk to the kitchen and make myself a cup of coffee. As the machine softly whirs, I sneak back into our bedroom to change into all black, my uniform. While everyone else will be a rainbow of colors and styles, as a staff member, I need to blend into the background. I pull my hair back into a low pony and stride back into the kitchen, feeling more awake.

My coffee cup now filled with espresso, I pour cream into the mug and crack an egg on our stovetop, scrambling it. Then I sit down at our kitchen table and look out our grimy window, scarfing down the meal. I glance down at my watch, toss my dishes into the sink, and grab my bag and Cherry as I race out the door.

Today is the day.

Emma said I could borrow her car, so I head down to the garage, sliding into the driver's seat. All of the preparation this past month, every meeting I've been in, it all was for this day. MET Gala day. I pull out of the garage and onto the dark streets, feeling oddly cold, even though the heat is blasting. There's something about a dark, early morning that makes you cold.

As I drive through the different New York streets, I think back to the promise I made Harry a month ago. Shit, a month. How has it been a month? So much has happened, it feels like two years honestly. I hired a manager, I filmed the Janelle Monae video and released it. A bunch of artists and other people have followed me on my socials. I've been in pre production meetings for three separate projects that are coming up.

The world is really working right for me right now. It feels like so many things are falling into place. Almost like a high. Last week I flew out to L.A. for a weekend to film Charlotte's lyric video for her new song. I wondered if Harry was there too, or if he was in New York, or where he was.

Shocker, we haven't talked since the phone call. That's how it always seems to go. We both just get so busy. Or at least I get busy, I'm sure he does too. Life is pretty much a whirlwind right now. It's in the quiet moments, the gasps for air, like this dark car ride, that I remember him, and miss him desperately. So I'll think of him today, and have fun like I promised, and film some things for him to see when I get back.

I pull into the staff parking lot, park the car, and climb out, bag and Cherry in tow. The place is already bustling with activity. I weave through people to get to the film equipment backstage, stuffing my things into a locker and picking up the giant camera. I'm feeling flashbacks to NYFW.

The day is another in the hundreds of whirlwinds my life has been. From the moment I enter the space, to the celebrities arriving, to the night beginning, I feel like I'm moving at lightning speed. I'm worried I'm not stepping back and appreciating that I'm here, at the MET, surrounded by hundreds of gorgeous people. I get a killer shot of Blake Lively in her giant, gorgeous red gown. And then the crowd's attention turns back to the entrance of the event as Zendaya strides down the carpet, clad in a chainmail dress that puts Joan of Arc to shame.

My jaw drops and I train my camera on her, careful not to pull out the cord feeding my channel to the control room. I let the camera guide me. From my headphones, I hear the buzz of the director's voice.

"Cam 3 standby."

That's me. They're going to use my shot in the coverage. I steady my camera and keep my angle on her, making sure to give her body enough space in the frame.