Chapter Two: 2017

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Quinn didn't have a second to breathe the rest of the week. In fact, she was starting to think about moving into the SNL offices. Despite the sometimes rowdy nature of the place, not having to commute to and from Brooklyn would at least give her more time to sleep.

Some weeks – like this one – were more difficult than others, with the writers working through sketch after sketch, unable to find one that would stick. If she wasn't in the room with the head writers, taking notes, she was bouncing between the offices of cast members and other writers, offering assistance, while also taking care of the administrative duties she was expected to complete daily. Even her lunches with Marcus were put on hiatus.

And as if she wasn't busy enough, this week had tasked her with a new job: taking care of Harry Styles.

Catrina, somewhat surprisingly, was nowhere to be found. Quinn figured Harry would be a big enough star to warrant Catrina putting in the face time in exchange for a selfie at the end of the week, but whenever Harry appeared with a new request, Quinn was often the only one around.

To his credit, Harry was probably one of the least demanding celebrities Quinn had come across. Most of his requests were benign, asking for a pen or highlighter or directions to a meeting room. Occasionally, he asked her to grab him a coffee, telling Quinn to pick something up for herself and Marcus, an offer she had no trouble accepting.

Each time she helped him, he was always pleasant, overly thankful, and still awkward, barely able to put five consecutive words together. Quinn didn't think Harry was the problem...he had no problem conversing with members of his team and band, as well as the cast members that were constantly around. It was only with Quinn that things went south.

Quinn wasn't entirely unfamiliar with the experience. All her life she'd been the responsible, driven girl who wasn't going to let anything stop her. She was a high achiever in all of her classes (well, except for calculus) and she joined every club she could, taking on leadership roles in at least half of them. It was who she was, and something her friends and family loved about her – (or at least she hoped they did). But to the guys she had flirted with throughout high school and college, she was intimidating. Off-putting. One had even called her scary and she had countless memories of the way guys' eyes would glaze over the second she started talking about something she was passionate about.

So maybe it was more of the same with Harry, though a not insignificant part of her hoped that that wasn't the case. She didn't understand what was wrong with him and over the course of the week she'd spent countless hours thinking about why Harry was so weird around her and why it bothered her so much, which is how she ended up overfilling her water bottle at the water cooler, soaking the bottom of her t-shirt, her pants and her shoes.


She placed her water bottle by the sink and looked around for something to mop up the mess she had made. Spying a roll of paper towels on top of the breakroom fridge she turned to grab them, only to find herself suddenly airborne, heels over head. Bracing herself for a fall, she felt a pair of hands gently grab her waist and hold her steady.

"Easy there. Are you OK?"

Quinn looked up and found herself staring at a very concerned Harry.

"Yeah, thanks for that," Quinn said, feeling her cheeks grow hot as she suddenly became more aware of Harry's hands on her waist. As if he could sense her self consciousness, Harry removed his hands and took a step back, putting some distance between himself and Quinn.

He stayed there as Quinn grabbed the towels and began mopping up the water. "Are you sure you're OK, Quinn?"

"Yeah! All's good here." Quinn hurried to finish mopping, feeling her cheeks burn as she remembered the feel of Harry's hands on her. "Did you need something?"

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