MY NAME, IS SIR [HARRY STYLES]

~~01~~

"Charlotte, I presume?" The raspy British accent caught me off guard, but immediately grabbed my attention. I hesitantly guide my eyes up to where he stood at least a foot taller than me. My breath hinges slightly as my eyes are met with a pair of emerald hardened eyes. His tensed and furrowed eyebrows added to the harshness of his gaze as he stares down at me, awaiting a reply.

"Yes, I'm Char- I'm Charlie" I correct, as Charlotte was only a name I heard when I was in trouble, however judging by the scrutiny he holds on me, Charlotte was probably more fitting at this time.

I immediately notice the tensing of his jaw and twitching in his right brow. He was thoroughly unimpressed, and my embarrassment only intensifies, wishing the ground would just swallow me now.

"Sorry, I have to go, I apologise for knocking you, I'm running so late though." I quickly stumble over my words and offer up whatever apology was necessary to get me out of that situation.

He steps aside and watches as I scramble away, desperate to find the whereabouts of Miss Phillips.

My eyes set upon the room on the right which holds a silver plated sign revealing 'Styles' out the front of a closed door.

Making my way closer to the door, I can hear the mayhem going on inside and I'm almost too afraid to go in. Swallowing one last ounce of courage, I pull open the glass door, thankful this time for its outward motion, eliminating the possibility of a repeat on my prior event.

"Ms Bailey?" I'm questioned by a petite blonde girl, who looks to be roughly my age.

"Yes, sorry" I rely quickly; making my way over toward her.

"Sorry about all of this, as usual Mr Styles lives to his own schedule" she rolls her eyes during her breathily irritation.

I nod my head, pretending as if I understand how stressful all of this seems. But then it catches my eye. The chaos of people, they aren't setting up. They are packing away.

The fear overran me.

"Erm, what is going on?" I ask for clarification.

I could see she had a million other things on her plate right now, and by the looks of the other frustrated photographers standing in the back of the hall; I wasn't going to enjoy my answer.

"Sorry love, the shoot is cancelled , or postponed. I'm not entirely sure yet, I'll have to check with him. I'll keep you posted" she offers a friendly smile before darting off in the direction of some shattered plates in the far corner.

Postponed.

Cancelled.

This couldn't be happening. I was using this shoot as my major piece, submissions due in 2 weeks. I knew the chances of this being rescheduled in the next two weeks would be slim based off how long it took to book this one.

I had no idea what I would use as a backup subject. I didn't even think that this shoot would fall through.

Absolutely disheartened I make my way back out of the room and across the lobby of the marble glossed tiles. An apparent slump in my step as I made my way to the exit.

As I stepped outside, the overbearing winter weather has kicked in and the rain was falling heavily, completely adding to the aesthetic of the situation. I didn't even bring an umbrella and I really couldn't afford to get any off my stuff wet.

I choose to reenter the lobby and take a seat in the seating area off to the left. Dumping my belongings next to me on the ground and slumping down into the chair, I pull my phone out to message Tabitha.

Seems as if Mr Styles is an even bigger Dick than we thought. He canceled the shoot.

I rack my brain, trying to come up with some sort of alternative. Something else to use as my subject. Something that has a story with it that shows I'm more than just a photographer, I can capture a moment in someone's life. Completely capture it.

"Charlotte isn't it?" That familiar raspy accent captivates my attention again. "Can I offer you some assistance?"

Staring up at his harsh features again, I'm really not in any sort of mood for any games and quite frankly, I just want to go home. But mystery boy is in your cliche, wrong place, wrong time and I could feel the tensions, frustrations and now, added pressure from the last four years coming to ahead.

"Yeah, I do need some assistance. If you know who this Harry Styles character is; or if you know how I could get in touch with him, please let me know. I drove 3 hours for just one, god damn picture to complete this stupid photography course that my parents refused to help pay for or support in any way; and then; this lowlife who practically has his life handed to him on a silver platter can't even be bothered to hang around for five minutes to pose for a few pictures. Apparently he has better things to do. So if you're offering assistance, I would like you to kindly tell him, to go screw himself"

I regret the words the moment they exit my lips; but somehow. I feel better. However; the tightening of the jaw and tensing of the right brow show me that I have once again not impressed this guy.

"Would you follow me please" the dryness in his request causes my throat to immediately run dry.

I'm most certainly being escorted to security or straight out of this building.

Before giving me a chance to respond, his heavy, dominate footsteps are echoing across the tiled foyer and my body on impulse, charges after him. Quickly gathering my belongings and having to keep up a little run to meet his wide strides.

Just when I think I'm being led to a security office; he opens the door to a seperate room. An empty room.

"I'll give you 5 minutes" he announces and I'm immediately confused.

"Sorry?" I question.

"I'm giving you 5 minutes to get your photographs Charlotte; before I go and, what did you say; oh, screw myself" he quotes my before rant.

My lips part in shock as my stomach completely drops.

"You're" I couldn't even finish my statement.

He takes two steps toward me with his right arm held out to greet me.

"Harry Styles, wish I could say it was a pleasure"