Dote • H.S

3

My head aches.

That's the first thing I notice when I become conscious.

"Josie?" It's Megan. I instantly recognize her voice and the tips of her perfectly manicured nails rubbing circles into my arms.

I hum unintelligibly, fluttering my eyes open as memories come flooding back to me. Eddie. Bar. Singing.

Harry fucking Styles.

My eyes flit around the room and I notice that we're in Eddie's apartment, which is located above his bar. I've been here numerous times before, accepting his offer of a nice home cooked meal as he lets The Office reruns play on the television.

But instead of it just being Eddie and I, this living room is now filled with more people. Megan is seated on the couch beside me and Ivan is leaning against the wall, gazing at me worriedly.

"How are you feeling Jo?" He asks.

"Like the hottest bitch alive." I chuckle, but wince when a pain shoots through my temples. "...That hit her head."

"You took a pretty hard fall." Megan explains.

"What happened?" I already know the answer to my question. But I need to be sure. I need confirmation...that I actually met Harry Styles. Out of all the celebrities that I've met, this encounter has definitely been the most eventful.

"You fainted. I think it's exhaustion really." Megan begins. "Your management is working you to death, Josie. I'm sick of it."

Although I'm pretty sure the reason for my collapse is much different than what Megan thinks, I choose to agree. Her excuse sounds more reasonable and saves me a lot of embarrassment.

"Yeah," I laugh, trying to ignore my throbbing headache. "That's probably why."

"And she's up!" Eddie walks into the living room, a glass of water in his hand. Behind him, I see the lean physique of someone. It's hard to get a good look at his face but his tattoos and curly hair are definitely recognizable. "Drink up. You look a little dehydrated."

I do as he says. Surprisingly, I'm thirstier than what I first assume. I down the entire glass of water which causes Eddie to return to the kitchen for more.

"How are you feeling, Josie?" That's when Harry plops down on the cushion to my left and I become well aware of his leg lightly brushing against mine.

"She's being overworked." Megan interjects. "I hate them. Her management team, the label. All of it."

"Really?" Harry's eyebrows lift in concern. He continues to gaze at me, waiting for my reply.

I refocus my attention on my arm, exhaling anxiously from his scrutiny. Why is his stare so intense? In retrospect, he's probably just trying to be polite. But coming from a person that shy's away from eye contact and has slightly underdeveloped communication skills, it's a bit unnerving.

"Well my album is about to drop soon. And we're doing a deluxe edition as well. So they're just really...focused." I explain.

"At your expense?"

I glance at him for a second. He looks genuinely interested in what I have to say.

"You have options." He continues. "Just because you want to pursue music doesn't mean you should put up with assholes. Your team should be the most supportive out of everyone. Not the people stressing you out."

"But I'm new to the industry. I would have harder luck trying to find other people to help me." I reply. Silently, Eddie replaces the glass of water in my hand. I smile at him appreciatively. "Plus, I don't want to tackle the hurdle of leaving the label and lawsuits and..." I sigh. "Contractual agreements.

"Ah," He nods understandingly. "Been there before."

Nervously, I take more sips of my water, gripping the glass tighter as my palms become clammy. The last few hours replay in my mind and I fight the urge to climb underneath the couch and sulk in embarrassment. I fainted in front of Harry Styles. I fainted because of Harry Styles. And now he's sitting beside me. Somehow, the universe has let tonight pan out in my favor.

What a miracle.

Harry detects my uneasiness and changes the topic. "How's your head? You hit it pretty hard."

"It hurts a bit but I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. The throbbing is like a battle scar in a way. It reminds me of the war I just won with Eddie's awfully textured floors."

Thankfully, Harry finds humor in my comment. Whereas Eddie pokes his head out from the kitchen, glaring at me playfully.

"Don't disrespect my floors, young lady. They've been the same since my great aunt Joyce owned this bar."

I feign an apology, but truly all I can think about is great aunt Joyce's terrible taste in interior design.

Ivan chuckles under his breath and it's in that moment when I remember his existence. Damn. I guess Harry's presence is more powerful than I initially thought. Ivan then joins Eddie in the kitchen. They begin talking in low voices and after a while of trying to make out their conversation (and failing), I tune them out and chastise myself for being nosy.

It's awkward at first--being silently sandwiched between Harry and Megan--as we watch reruns of The Office. I find that I'm the only one laughing at certain cues.

"You actually like this rubbish?" Harry voices, eyebrows furrowing and lips turning downward.

"It's funny."

He sits with a focused expression, probably trying to force himself to figure out why I find the show so amusing.

But before Harry can say anything else, his phone is vibrating. He glances down at the screen momentarily before returning his gaze back to me. "I should get going soon."

It doesn't take long before we're exchanging contact information. Within minutes I'm reciting my digits to him. He plugs them in quickly, calling me to make sure he has the right number. Then I'm saving his contact in my phone, giving him a weak wave as he finally leaves.

Ivan is the second to leave after giving Megan and I hugs and telling us to get home safely. Eddie retires from the kitchen, holding a vintage scrapbook as he talks about the family history of his club and explains the tradition of his dangerously rough tiled-floors.

And in the back of my mind, I'm still trying to register that I met Harry fucking Styles.