Dancing in One Direction

Dancing in One Direction - Part 7

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Part 7

Things at work between Harry and I have got more and more tense. Well, more awkward really. After the whole conversation outside Laura's house, we are both pretty embarrassed and to be honest, I don't even know where things lye between us now. All I know is that every time we're in the same room, my instincts tell me to stay away, while my body tells me to go for it. I try not to think about it too much or I end up with a headache.

'Earth to Lauren?' Greta says to me, as she gives me a sneak peak at some of the finished outfits the contestants will be wearing on the first live show, which is drawing nearer and nearer. 'Hey maybe you should go get some water. You look kinda pale.' She says, her amused expression turning to one of concern.

I can feel my headache come back again as I try to think things over. Again. I'm so confused about my feelings right now, I think to myself as I walk down the hall to the vending machine.

I grab the two water bottles and am about to head back to Greta, when a door opens beside me and a familiar figure looks at me.

'We need to talk.' My father says, gesturing into his office. I'm about to protest, but he gives me a stern look, before looking suspiciously down the corner. He's making sure no one sees him talking to me. I decide it isn't worth making a scene where one of my friends might see us, so I walk into his office. He closes the door gently behind him and takes a seat behind his slick, neat desk. I ignore the seat in front of him that he gestures to, and walk over to the window over looking the car park where I agreed to get into Harry's car the night before.

I cross my arms, waiting for him to speak.

'I won't keep you long. There is just a matter we need to discuss,' he says, his eyes never leaving the papers he rearranges on his desk. His voice is emotionless as always and formal, as though he were talking to a business partner, or a friendless colleague. 'It is about you and that boy, from the band. Styles.'

Suddenly my attention is grabbed, and I spin around looking steely at my father.

'What does this have to do with Harry?' I say. I notice the defensive tone to my voice, and am surprised by it.

'You and the boy have been spotted around the building together, in the studio and so on.' He says, making his statement sound suspiciously like a question.

'Yeah, so? We work together so of course we'll be seen with each other. All the dancers and contestants are friends.' I say, with a shrug.

'Yes but not all the dancers and contestants hide away in my rather small and intimate closet in an effort to not get caught being in my office.' His steady, boring voice gets a few notes higher, letting me know he is serious.

I turn back to look out the window, remaining silent. He saw us, and there is no point trying to deny it.

'Look I know you aren't going to tell me what you were doing in my office, or what you were looking for.' His boring voice says, returning to his normal pitch. 'And to be honest, I don't really care. All I'm saying is stay away from that boy.'

I turn back to him, a flash of shock ringing through my body.

'Excuse me?' I say incredulously.

'If it were to get out to the press that you and – that boy - were, well, going out, then it wouldn't be long before the press would start accusing me of being biased towards his little band. And with the live shows approaching, even if they get through every week, people are going to think I'm fixing the line up.' He says, slightly irritable. Normally it would give me a weird satisfaction to see him uncomfortable because of me, but now I'm just too outraged to think about anything else.