The Only Exception | W2S

FOUR.

Sounds good I'll see you there

Thankfully, the traffic wasn't too horrendous, considering it was Friday morning, and we arrived in good time.

I ditched George and Arthur as soon as we arrived, making up an excuse about my hair, so not to panic anyone about the unfinished speech, and messaged Harry, telling him where to meet me.

I set up shop in an empty room, and laid out the contents of my speech in front of me. There wasn't a flow to my writing at all, and there were lots of gaps where I couldn't find the words to fill, and even the thought of talking in front of everyone was making me feel slightly sick. Despite millions of people watching me chat shit to a camera, when I was actually talking, it was just to a camera. Not to actual people sat in front of me.

The door pushed open, and hurried footsteps approached the table. I stood up, turned around, and Harry stood there in a suit, reminding me of the night we'd first met.

"Holly —" he started, but no other words left his mouth, as he just continued to stare at me.

Confused, I raised an eyebrow. "Hello, Harry. Come on, we have work to do," I said quickly, turning around to face the table again.

A few moments later, he cleared his throat, and sat opposite me, still looking at me with an indescribable expression on his face.

"Okay, give me your speech. You can try and read mine, but it doesn't read very well. I'm not good at writing things down," I say frustratedly, handing him my paper, as he hands me a folded up piece in return.

Immediately, after only reading a few sentences, I find myself smiling, and nearly laughing at some points too. I hadn't known Ethan or Faith as long as Harry had, but some of the memories he talked about I was aware of, which made me smile more.

"Harry, this is great. I don't know why you were panicking," I tell him truthfully. "It sounds finished. It's got a good ending, it's funny, sentimental at some points, too. It's great."

He looks at me, doubtful. Almost like he thought I was lying to him. "For real?"

"Yeah, for real," I respond gently. "Ethan and Faith are going to love it."

He maintains eye contact for a little while longer before looking down at my crumpled pieces of paper. "I can see where you're going in yours, and what you've got so far - it's good. I think you just struggle with writing your thoughts down, but when it gets to the moment, you'll be fine."

"Sorry, are you seriously telling me your advice for me to just wing it?" I ask, not sure if I've understood him properly. "You want me to stand up in front of everybody, and wing it?"

He nods. So calmly, it slightly makes me want to punch him.

"Well you've been no help at all," I groan, snatching back my notes.

"If I thought you couldn't wing it, I would write it for you. But I do truly think you'll deliver a great speech. I've heard you talk about your friends and family on numerous podcasts, and that includes your own and other people's. You have a knack for it."

"I can talk to a camera, yes. Not to a room of people!"

"I think you'll surprise yourself. Have a little drink beforehand, calm your nerves. I promise you it'll be cool," he repeats again, but nothing he's saying is making me feel better.

"Not cool. Absolutely not cool," I huff, standing up from the table, about to leave the room.

"Holly," he calls out from behind me, and I'm so frustrated I nearly ignore him and continue walking, but I stop anyway, turning back around. "Save me a dance later?"