COMA | ziam

2: This Is Going To Be Awkward...

So sorry for mistakes! this is a long chapter!

I end up calling Harry the next day, after talking myself out of it countless times, being too fearful for my own good. I hadn't slept, but that's nothing new, my mattress seemed like a torture device with the way it sagged and the relentless springs that poked me in the ass all nightlong, but it seemed to be the only thing I could rely on as I hyperventilated about what on Earth I could possibly say to get me this damned job that seemed so far out of my depth, so intangible. Harry's kind words seemed to keep me from losing my shit completely, but nevertheless, I still seem to be a walking shit-show with okay hair.

Hunter, the boy at work who I blamed for being fired, had caused my phone bill to go through the roof by his drunken strands of texts, and usually I'd entertain the conversation because of what a lonely twat I was and most definitely am, but instead I had blocked his number so that I was drowning in the silence of my dark, rotting apartment, regretting waking up at all.

Harry had made me feel welcomed via phone, telling me that his boss, who goes by the name of Liam Payne, was going a little mad from how much Harry had talked to him about me. His name seemed so outrageously alluring, and I couldn't help but to blush, internally smacking myself in the head for not having a computer so I could look him up. Mr. Payne is undoubtedly important and luxurious by what I've heard about him, but I'd never say it aloud. The last thing I need to sound like is a desperate fame whore, instead I was just desperate.

When I meet Harry at a Cafe that I really couldn't afford to sit at, he read through my resume while giving me an almost-sinister-but-just-friendly smile across the table. He ends up turning to me once he is done reading the portfolio, looking like he's about to jump out of his chair and I think I might too after all the coffee I had downed nervously. Suddenly he grabs my wrists telling me that I'm completely qualified to meet the child and his father without so much else. I'm left with a heart racing, wondering if I'm dreaming all of this, but soon his smile fades and he's becomes serious with me. I wonder how someone so open and friendly could be a personal assistant to someone so private.

"But if Elliot, the child, or Liam don't think that you would be the right nanny, then you'll have to look for another job. Just for a heads up, because I think that you are perfect for the job, Liam may seem like he's dismissive and cold, but he only wants the best for his little boy. He is like a guard dog so don't take it personally. They've been through a lot together, so just nod and do whatever he tells you to do. I'm so excited, Zayn! We've been looking for the right nanny forever."

Harry continues to write down for me the address of his Boss' place, hands me a set of rules to study overnight, and to bring my belongings with me if I end up moving in immediately. He makes sure I sign a confidential statement and if I had broke the agreement by talking about their personal life, they could sue me. I leave the cafe a little poorer and more stressed than ever, reading the book of rules that were solid and understandable for someone who needed a day and night nanny to live with them. I would be worried if I was in his situation as well. I'm left with so many questions flooding my brain that will be answered by tomorrow when I meet the both of them. I fall asleep bobbling my mind by what Harry had meant when they had gone through a lot together.

But if you're wondering how on Earth I had made it this far in this prestigious little maze, I really don't know.

I walk to the tube in the London Underground, feeling incompetent, the list of rules placed into a flimsy binder under my arm and a bag of my stuff which felt insanely lighter than I expected. I had gave a week's notice to let go of my apartment which was risky, but I had to just think I was moving forward. But if this all went pear shaped, I'm even more fucked than before. On the train going to Notting Hill, there's a woman sitting next to me with her clothes all shredded up and her hair a wild mess. She started to scream at me in a puzzling fit to the point where a policemen had to end up pulling her off of me like a cat mauling me. I'm bloody pathetic.