I am woken by my alarm clock again, and I am more disoriented than I think I have ever been in my whole life. What time is it? I slam my hand on the off button, checking the time. 3:00. In the morning? I check my phone to find that it is indeed already time to start a new day, even though I still feel like I might not make a full recovery from the last one. I slept for almost twelve hours, longer than I've slept in years. I should feel rested, but I do not. At all.
After showering I head to the station, really feeling the full impact of my schedule for the first time. I've never done it like that before: sleep, wake up, work, sleep, wake up work. I am glad that my daily life isn't like that.
I think of what I told Harry yesterday, that I don't want to do this forever. The thought of forever in any sense scares me, so I push it to the back of my mind.
During today's broadcast I am almost completely zoned out, and glad that I don't have to go on air. I barely pay attention to Mike and Gail, though I hear them talking about yesterday's interview. One Direction fans are still calling in, and leftover questions about the interview dominate the better part of the morning. My phone buzzes with a text, and I don't recognize the number. I open it.
*Not a lot of places to ride horses in Atlanta.* it says. I cover my mouth as a laugh escapes. I glance up, relieved to find that no one is looking at me. Why does this feel like something I should hide?
*How did you get my number?* I reply. The icon that shows me that Harry is typing a response appears.
*That is an irrelevant piece of information.* I press my lips together, fighting a smile.
*On the contrary, I find it very relevant. This proves that any random creep can just find my number.*
*I'm a random creep?*
*Kind of.*
*I'm Harry Styles.* He's doing it again, the confidence that is borderline cocky but so, so attractive.
*That is an irrelevant piece of information.* I send back. While I'm waiting for his response, I check my surroundings again. Catherine looks as tired as I feel, and Mike and Karen are shuffling papers around. Still, no one is paying any attention to me. My phone buzzes again.
*What's your last name?* What?
*My last name? So you ARE a creep.*
*No. I need to give your full name to the people at Will Call so you can get into the show tomorrow.*
*It's Hayley Reid.* I send back.
*Middle name?* He asks.
*Jane. They need my middle name too? Extensive.*
*They don't. I was being a creep. See you tomorrow, Hayley Jane Reid.*
I set my phone on the table next to me and try not to smile like an idiot. I feel like I need to splash water on my face or something. He's so charming.
And he texted me. He's famous, I remind myself. I can't let this be something that I get invested in. I don't want to be the girl who falls for the rockstar, thinking that she's "one and only," when in reality she's "one of many."
I take a deep breath. Harry Styles is not a good idea.
When I get out of work at noon, I head straight to my mom's house. Ryan is there, he works from home. I tell him about yesterday's interview, leaving out the part where I bonded with a famous Englishman over tea and we flirtatiously text-messaged later.
"Anyway, it was a great interview," I finish.
"Yeah, it was," Ryan says.
"You listened?" I ask. I am a little surprised, he never listens to the show.
"Of course!" He seems surprised that I'm surprised. "I listen every day you're on."
"You do?" I ask, incredulous. I have never, not once heard Ryan say anything about listening to me on the radio. "You never told me that!"
Ryan shrugs. "I thought you knew."
I can't keep the smile off my face. All this time I thought Ryan slept late every day, when he was really getting up earlier than necessary to listen to me on the radio? Ryan is the closest person to me in the whole world, I really shouldn't have expected less of him. Still, I am slightly giddy at this revelation.
"Any word from the doctor about the tests?" I ask, changing the subject.
"Not yet, probably tomorrow." His answer rings with finality; he hates when conversations take a turn towards medical care or health discussions.
My mom walks in the door then, and she immediately entraps us in a story of her day. We discuss our weekend plans, and I bring up the concert. Mom and Ryan both shrug it off, like it's no big deal. Maybe because I left out the tiny detail that Harry Styles is the one who invited me. It seems like it's not something for anyone else to know.
Again, I feel like I'm hiding something. I push my unexplainable guilt to the back of my mind and lean back in an old kitchen chair, letting their voices and the feeling of familiarity swirl around me, content.
YOU ARE READING
Written
Fanfiction"Written" follows the story of 20-year-old Hayley Reid, a fiery young woman who never realized her potential in the music business until she was recruited to work on the biggest concert tour of the year. Hayley's passion immediately draws the attent...
