Unscripted. (H.S.)

16

Penelope Atwoods

I saw in my front room waiting for Harry this morning, and he was right on time. 7.30 on the dot, there he was in his car and his sunglasses, and that smirk. That fucking smirk I wish I could erase from my memory, because last night when I couldn't sleep, it was that smirk I swear I saw on my ceiling.

I was closing my door and when I turned around, Harry was leaning against the passenger side of his car, cigarette in hand and a cheeky grin on his face. I tossed my keys into my bag and tried to keep the smile off of my face as I walked down towards his car.

"There she is! Woman of the hour," Harry said, holding a hand out for me like I was some royal and he was nothing but a chauffeur. "What's cooking good loo-"

"Shut up." I interrupted him, climbing into his car as Harry stood there with a face looking like it had just been slapped by rejection.

Harry tutted and tossed his cigarette to the ground before climbing in and starting the engine. "Please Love Me Forever" by Bobby Vinton started to play as Harry drove off down my street. A slow sixties love song which earned its place in the soundtrack of the film set to end filming in a few days time. It's a great song, and now, it'll always remind me of filming with Harry. It's Betty and George's song.

Harry was humming away, and for the first time, he wasn't driving like a total lunatic. Maybe it's slow love songs like this he needs to stop driving recklessly, because I sure as hell feel a lot less worried for my safety when the driver is just some guy driving slowly, listening to songs like these. It makes this drive to work feel like we're going in slow motion.

There's just something about driving to work with Harry, early morning with empty roads devoid of the usual hustle and bustle. Slow, sixties love songs playing as the cool morning air grazes our skin. Harry drives with one hand on the wheel, the other hovering over his gearstick and a partial smile on his face. Occasionally he'd glance over at me, shoot me a smile and then divert his eyes back to the road.

When we arrived at work, Bondy was outside leaning against the wall having a smoke, and he gave Harry a little look which felt as though only he and Harry knew the meaning of. Harry hopped out and waited for me round the front of his car, to which he then swung an arm round my shoulders. He did it to push his luck, so I shoved it back to him and told him to behave himself. Harry acted like I had stabbed him in the chest.

The second I walked in, Smithy, my manager practically grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the side. I panicked, wondering what I've done wrong. Maybe he heard about Harry and I, and Smithy is going to absolutely kill me for that, I wouldn't blame him. Me getting carried away in some random car park with Harry isn't exactly the best thing for my nonexistent image over here.

"Where's Harry?" Smithy asked me.

"Uhh...Harry is-"

"Right here Sunflower, what'd you need?" Harry appeared from behind me, his elbow resting on my shoulder. "Marty! How are you man? Listen, anything Penelope says about me, not true. Been taking care of her I swear, well, from what she'll let me."

"It's Smithy," I shoved Harry off of me. "Asshole."

"You've been invited to a premier, The Beginning. Both of you." Smithy sighed, shrugging off Harrys weird, flirty, happy attitude which nobody around here seems to be used to. "And I suggest you two go together, not as a couple, just as-"

"Score!" Harry cheered.

"I'll catch you later, Smithy." I smiled at him, knowing damn well it is impossible to even have this conversation when Harry is lingering like perfume. He's like an itch, he's absolutely everywhere and he might be pretty, but that doesn't mean I don't want him to leave me alone. I still think he's an asshole, a big one.