Well that was a shambles

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I've always had this weird habit. If people watch me doing something then I suddenly become hyper aware of it. So if I'm eating and someone is looking at me or I'm walking past and someone is watching me I start to do it in an awkward, self conscious way.

When it's Harry Styles watching you walk across a room with a slight smirk on his lips it's heightened by 1000. The distance between the door and the chair seems to lengthen as my shaky legs make their way towards it.

I can't say I'm a big one direction fan. I remember they did that 'Who is beautiful' song or whatever it was called a few years ago and obviously I'm vaguely aware that Harry is supposed to date a different supermodel every week. But I'm not into modern music at all. I don't dislike the band, they just don't feature on my radar.

So I can't say it's like meeting one of your idols or anything but I can't deny that it's probably the most nerve wracking experience of my life, I mean... He's Harry Styles. The whole room seems to centre around him and he's comfortable with it. It's so weird seeing someone so famous in the flesh.

Finally I'm sat in front of him and I chance a look at him. He's studying me and I feel myself flush as I look to the woman next to him. She smiles kindly at me, pushing a wild strand of blonde hair away from her glasses. My eyes wander to the woman next to her, a sharp looking brunette who frowns as she takes in my outfit.

"I like your t-shirt." Harry says suddenly. His voice is a lot deeper than I expected. "Are you actually a fan of Ramones or did you just like the t-shirt?"

"I'm a fan." I say a touch defensively and he grins.

"Miss Lovelace." The older woman says sharply. "I'm not entirely sure if you've just rolled off a tour bus but the candidate we're looking for should have a certain sense of occasion, you may have noticed how the other girls were dressed..."

I squirm slightly as the three of them take in my outfit. I could explain that my sister spent £150 on a dress, just for this bloody interview, but my dickhead boyfriend locked me out of his flat and I thought it was better to turn up rather than not come at all.

I open my mouth but the words won't come out and I'm just sat gaping like a fish.

Harry laughs suddenly.

"Lighten up Lydia." He grins at the older woman. "She's probably done it to stand out, right?" He winks at me and I nod stupidly.

"Anyway... Lennon." He grabs Lydia's notes away and flicks through them. "Tell us... Why should we hire you?"

He leans forward, pretending to be serious and I notice Lydia rolling her eyes impatiently.

"I've got lots of experience-"

"Hm. Yes. You worked as a PA for a band called..." He studies the paper then gives a little laugh. "...  Spunknugget."

The blonde woman giggles and Harry laughs along.

"They're a serious prog-rock band." I mutter.

What the hell am I doing here?

"Ok." Harry bites back his laughter. "So why do you want to work for me? Are you a One Direction fan?"

"Oh yes." I nod quickly. "I mean, I'm not a super fan or anything... But obviously I've researched the band and I really think that I can bring-"

"You'll be representing Harry, not the band." Lydia says icily.

"Yes of course."

"Which One Direction song most sums up your personality?" Harry asks.

"Harry, for the thousandth time, this is serious!" Lydia says exasperatedly. "We need to find you a decent personal assistant!"

When Lennon met Harry Where stories live. Discover now