As soon as the plane touched down in California, everybody was practically straight back into work mode. I supposed it was instinct for them all, but I definitely had to consciously put myself back into it, in all honesty.
It wasn't like I hadn't been taking many photos on our week off, but it was different, here. I was photographing Harry Styles, on tour, rather than my boyfriend Harry on our vacation. Harry had his sunglasses on in the back of the car, with his fingers laced through mine as he watched out of the window. I sat sandwiched between him and Pauli, with the other three sitting opposite us.
I felt Harry nudge my knee with his to capture my attention, and I looked up from where I'd been mindlessly zoning in on Elin and Sarah's conversation. I followed his gaze out of the window, just as we passed by the museum he'd taken me to on what I supposed was technically our first date. I smiled fondly as my chest thumped nostalgically at the site of the parking lot and the exterior of the building. I'd taken in every little detail I could when we'd been there, and I couldn't help but think about the beautiful little garden hidden behind those museum walls; how much I'd loved being there with Harry so early on.
California felt pretty symbolic for us. We'd met in London, yes, but California was arguably where we really started. It was where he'd finally made a move - a proper one - and where we'd officially decided to try things out with each other. We'd been inseparable ever since. Just driving down these streets, they felt rather sentimental, though it hadn't been hugely long since we'd been here and everything had happened. Being here with him again, and feeling how everything had transformed - even when we'd kissed like we had our last time in LA, I could've never imagined we'd end up the way we were now.
I pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek as we both looked out at the museum, and his knee remained nudged against my own. I leaned against his shoulder, feeling him wrap his free hand around my knee, now. I glanced down at his hand, noticing a plain black hair tie of mine around his wrist, that I'd helped him tie into the front of his hair a couple of times to keep it away from his face when it was hot in Italy. I almost drifted off to sleep like that, just with how comfortable it felt, before I heard a buzz of screams and cheers that caused my head to lift instinctively from his shoulder.
"Here we go," Pauli murmured, as I looked up to see how the car was surrounded by lines of fans as we approached the final venue for the US shows. I felt a pulse of adrenaline through my body as I looked out of the tinted windows, and I caught a beautiful little smile pulling on Harry's lips. I knew sometimes it was a lot for him to handle, and I knew he enjoyed his privacy - but equally, this was his world. This was his life, and I knew he missed it whenever he went without it; I knew he loved doing this.
He let go of my hand as everybody got out of the car, and Harry was almost swarmed. His security formed a barrier around the group of us, but it didn't do much to deter the way everybody's arms were flailing out to try and reach Harry. It wasn't often that there were crowds waiting outside of venues like this, but it wasn't completely uncommon, either.
I was between Elin and Mitch as the group of us were led through, with Harry in front of us. I could hear him uttering polite 'hello's and 'thank you's despite how people were fiercely grabbing at him. I could see a number of girls in tears at the mere sight of him, as his security did their job in forming a wall around the group. I could hear the whole band's names being screamed at individual points, but Harry's was the resounding one - over, and over; people dying for a glimpse, or a touch, or the tiniest smile from him in their direction.
"Isabella!"
I was surprised to hear my name called as Harry entered the arena in front of us, and I was almost through the door myself. I turned my head on mere instinct; it was such an infrequent thing to happen to me in these crowds, that I hadn't quite mastered ignoring it like everybody else had.
"Are you dating Harry?!"
My lips parted at the question, as Elin practically shoved me inside the door and away from the crowd. I hadn't quite expected a question like that, and I wasn't sure I'd ever been asked it so directly, especially not by a fan of his. The door closed behind us all, and I realised my face had probably done just about everything except deny it.
I looked at Harry as soon as we were in the building, who was already turning around to reach for me with us being out of sight of his fans, now. Elin nudged my side as Harry approached.
"It's fine. You'll get better at ignoring it," she told me, and I watched a puzzled look overtake Harry's features, as he clearly hadn't heard the question.
"Mm? What is it?" he asked as he gently held the back of my head to press a casual kiss to my forehead, glancing between me and Elin. I blew out a breath that I hadn't realised I'd been holding as he kissed me.
"Nothing. Someone just asked her if you two were dating on the way in," Elin told him, and I watched his eyes shift from her to me. He laughed, stroking my hair away from my face as he noticed my worried expression.
"Don't worry," he reassured me, kissing my forehead again and pulling me into his side as he watched me nervously and silently spiral. It had felt like such a big deal to avoid that rhetoric from spreading over previous weeks; I wasn't sure why he wasn't as thrown by it as I was, but then I figured he was likely just trying to make sure I wasn't too panicked. I realised he was always a lot more at ease when we moved around in the group because it was difficult to single us out as a pair, so he didn't seem too bothered.
"They've asked my own sister that, before, when we were out together. I think they've asked Sarah and Elin, too. 'Doesn't mean anything. Don't stress," he said with another reassuring look as we all walked further into the arena, but I wondered if the cogs were turning in his brain, a little, too - especially after the close call in Italy. Maybe we really weren't being careful enough.
We dragged our bags along to the dressing room - or, he did, refusing to let me lift a finger - as we walked through the arena. Soundcheck was due to start in around thirty minutes, and so we had a second to breathe before the rush of it all truly began again.
After the stadium show, before, Harry had made the decision to keep the opening band they'd tested out on that night. It seemed like he'd really liked them, and with him being the way he was, I knew he liked being able to give a smaller group the platform to make themselves known. This meant they'd be joining us for these final two US shows, after Harry had contacted them after the stadium show to make the offer.
"I think-" he said, after we'd discussed the opening band for a moment. He stood in front of where I sat on the couch in his dressing room, looking down at me. "-that I should go and say hi. Make sure they're all good for tonight."
I nodded as he said that, just as I pulled my laptop out of my bag to set it in my lap. He tilted his head at me.
"I might stop by catering. I'm starving. Do you wanna come with?"
I felt a little disoriented with how ridiculously long our flight had been from Italy to California, and the fact that a show was even happening tonight. It had all been cut very close, but I supposed that was how it always was. Italy was also nine hours ahead of LA, and it meant my head was a little all over the place with tiredness, but I was trying to pull through. I didn't have it in me to feel hungry at all.
"Mm, I don't think so... I probably need to get myself all set up for later before I get too tired to do it," I told him, honestly, leaning back against the couch and bringing my legs up.
"Are you sure you don't want anything? Even coffee?" he asked me, leaning down to hover his face over mine, and I shook my head, grinning tiredly up at him as he drew closer. He was so much better at handling his exhaustion than I was.
"I'm fine. I'll come and find you for soundcheck," I told him as he leaned down to kiss me briefly, once, and then let his lips linger for a second time. I rubbed my thumb gently against his chin as he pulled away, and I was already tempted to pull him back.
"We can have a nap when I'm done," he said, obviously noticing my tiredness as he drew away to straighten his posture again. He smirked teasingly, then. "If you're not already asleep before I get back."
"Don't count on that," I replied as he walked toward the dressing room door, and I tilted my head a little as he walked away, eyeing the slouchy dark green hoodie he was wearing. He'd pulled it on when we'd gotten off the plane, but it was only now I was really noticing how nice it was.
"Stop sizing it up as if you're gonna take it," Harry said, suddenly, causing me to innocently shrug my shoulders. He shoved his hands into the front pocket, and I fought back the grin on my lips at how easily he'd read me, continuing to tilt my head from side to side.
"Hmm... I don't know... spin around for me? Let me see if I like it..." I teased, feeding into the idea that I was planning to steal it from him like I had so many of his hoodies; hoodies that I'd initially 'borrowed', or he'd generously passed to me in a time of need, but had ended up remaining a part of my wardrobe, rather than his. He laughed, shaking his head.
"Absolutely not. It's mine," he said with playful firmness, but I knew he'd give over by the time he was done wearing it later. He reached for the door handle, sending me another grin. "Bye, gorgeous."
"Bye," I laughed as he disappeared out of view and shut the door behind him, leaving me with my laptop. I reached for my bag to pull one of the cameras out of it that I liked to use for the shows, and I began toying with a couple of settings to match some templates I'd mapped out a couple of weeks ago.
It was quiet without Harry in the dressing room with me, but I knew he was only on the other side of the building, playing the part. He was so good like that; wanting to make everybody on the tour feel equally welcome and important - going to socialise with the opening act, so that they didn't feel distant from him as the main event. He was always so thoughtful of everybody else's feelings.
I was probably on my own for ten minutes or so when my phone began to ring. Anxiety didn't even have a chance to flash in my chest as I saw the caller ID, and it surprised me a little. It was my friend - technically - from the firm; a name I hadn't even thought about in months. She was one of the few people I'd really gotten along with, there - she was a few years older than me, and definitely a few firm rankings above me, but she was lovely and she always had been, to me. We'd gotten a drink once or twice at Johnny's together, after work - in fact, we'd done so on the very night I'd met Harry, and she'd just happened to peel away from our hangout a while before he'd showed up. I wondered what might have happened if she hadn't left me by myself.
"Alice! Hey! How are you?" I answered the phone warmly, surprised by her phone call but definitely grateful to receive it.
"Isabella! I'm doing great... I just wanted to see how you are. It's been so long since we've talked." her familiar voice filled my ears and it made me smile. She was probably one of the few things that made the endless hours of work at the firm enjoyable - hearing her voice made me feel a little guilty for not reaching out to her at all since I'd been here. I wasn't sure I'd even told her about my break.
"I know, I'm sorry. I'm doing really, really good though," I said happily, and I was sure this was probably the most enthusiasm she'd ever heard from me. I wasn't much fun when we were working, I was sure. I set my laptop to the side, bringing my knees to my chest on the couch as I held my phone to my ear. "It's so nice to hear from you."
"It's a photography gig you're on, right? That's so exciting! How is it? How's America?" she asked, and I realised I must've told her about my trip - or at least, someone had, for her to know all the details.
"Yes, it is. It's really great. I love it here," I grinned, toying with the hem of my sweater as we talked. It was sort of an odd feeling, talking to people from home; leaving out the massive detail of having a boyfriend, and who he was. "I'm in California right now... it's beautiful. How's work for you?"
"California! That sounds incredible... work is work," she said, in her typical tone, "you know, September is always the busiest. I was mainly calling because I was just so surprised to hear you'd officially left us. You didn't let any of us know!"
My stomach dropped. The smile was wiped from my face in an instant, and I could hear my own breath as it hitched in my throat.
"W-What do you mean?" I said, then, and I forced myself to breathe out a laugh after I noticed how solemn and panicked I sounded. "I'm back soon. I finish up here this week, and then I'm..."
I trailed off, as I came to a sudden, awful realisation.
"I can grant you eight weeks, and we can re-evaluate at that point. September is a busy time for the firm, so it's possible we'll need you back by then. But, equally, it may well be the case that we grant you the extra fortnight at that eight-week evaluation."
That was what Theresa had told me - I could see the words falling from her perfectly painted lips in my mind, now. She'd uncrossed her arms, leaned forward in her chair, and given me the closest thing to a smile I'd ever seen from her. We'd have an eight-week evaluation.
That eighth week was last week. There had been no evaluation.
"Alice," I said, my tone sounding anything but even. It was frantic, just like my mind was. "I'm so sorry - can I call you back later? I've just been called to go and do something-"
"Oh, of course! Give me a call as soon as you-" I'd cut her off by hanging up before she'd even completed her sentence. I almost felt bad, but I was too busy feeling my heart was practically thump out of my chest.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
I practically raced to open up my work emails from the firm - something I hadn't done for weeks, now. I opened the browser and went to type in my business email - only for the screen to shake and flash a red error message. I frowned, my shaking fingers tapping on the keyboard to try again; but it wasn't working. The red error message, again. And again, and again.
My account was gone.
I almost dropped my phone as I started fumbling to open up my contacts and call Theresa. The anxiety in me almost stopped me from calling her, with it being outside of work hours - but with how many times she'd kept me up at all hours to finish a wretched report that could definitely have waited until the next work day, I was sure it didn't matter.
I clicked on the 'call' button, and it rang a couple of times - and then it declined. Again - it declined. Another time, and then another, but I didn't stop calling. My mind wasn't working right now, but simultaneously, it was racing more relentlessly than it ever had - my palms sweating as my hands shook violently around my phone, and I was leaning over on the couch to get even closer to my phone.
"Hello?"
The line finally connected, and my mouth was completely dry. I felt like I could be sick. I hadn't heard her voice in months, but it still had the same chilling effect that it had before, even when she'd granted me exactly what I wanted.
"Hi! Hi, Theresa - it's Isabella. I just- I- um," I stopped - I usually rehearsed my work calls a hundred times before I even thought about making them; yet here I was, spontaneously trying to dig into how my work email account no longer existed for me to log in to. I tried again, "I was just trying to log in to my emails, and I think the system might be down. It's not letting me get-"
"I'm sorry - Isabella who?"
If I hadn't felt sick before, I definitely did, now. My eyes shifted frantically from side to side. It was like my mind wasn't even controlling the words spilling out of my mouth.
"Isabella Blake," I breathed out a pathetically nervous laugh. "Um - I'm currently on a break from the company. I was due to come back in the next week or so, um- I just wanted to see what was happening with that. My emails, they're-"
"Ah, yes. Well, wouldn't your eight-week break have ended... last week, Isabella?"
Her voice was calm and cool, and it sent a shiver through my body. I'd never simultaneously despised and respected somebody so much.
"Uh - yes. Well, we were looking at ten... and then we said we'd re-evaluate when we reached eight..." I trailed off. I knew I didn't have much of a leg to stand on, with the eighth week having passed. But this wasn't quite clicking in my head, just yet.
"Mhm. We did end up re-evaluating... and unfortunately, we came to the decision it was best to terminate your contract with us."
The room felt like it was spinning. If I'd been standing, I was sure my legs would've collapsed from beneath me, unable to support me anymore. Oh my god. No.
This couldn't be real - it couldn't be. I'd worked so, endlessly hard to get this job, and then to keep it - I'd spent months and months grovelling; sleepless nights, slaving away for these people like it was all that I breathed for. I worked myself to the bone; exhausting myself mentally and physically, because I had to get this degree. I had to graduate with the highest honours; I had to do everything that my father had told me I couldn't. This job played a huge role in setting me apart in my qualification - if I'd gone on to do a masters, or kept studying, or wanted to work myself further up in the law field, then it was this job that would keep me afloat in a sea of other candidates. This was a good firm, with a great reputation; I'd beaten out hundreds of people just like myself for this position, and I'd been stupid enough to risk it all to play into my fantasy of living out my dream as a photographer. I'd been selfish. I'd been so unbelievably wrapped up in my own ridiculous happiness, that I'd forgotten to even check in last week. I didn't know if that would've even made a difference, but I wasn't sure if it mattered.
I didn't forget these types of things. I was certain, at this moment, I'd never been more resentful of myself. This wasn't like me. I needed this job. I needed to prove this. I just had to go and do something for me, instead of keeping my head down and getting on with it. I just had to get wrapped up in love, blinded to the point I'd forgotten to keep my head straight on my shoulders. This was bad - this was so, so bad.
I'd lost my job.
"Hello?"
I'd been silent for far too long, I realised. There were a million responses to give, but I could only muster the easiest one.
"I-I wasn't informed," I replied. My voice didn't even sound like mine. I thought, truly, I could've fainted.
"We did email you. Last week - we sent out a termination letter."
"To my email. Which I can't access." My replies were blunt and didn't scratch the surface, but I couldn't manage more.
"They usually revoke access seven days after termination. I can send one out to your personal email if we have it on file, if you'd like."
How was this real? This was the absolute worst-case scenario.
"Theresa, please," I said, my voice sounding weak and trembling, but I couldn't bring myself to correct it. "Is there any way - any way - you could reconsider...?"
"That is unfortunately out of my hands, Isabella. I'm sorry." She didn't sound sorry. "Everything is already processed on our end."
I was grasping at straws. "Surely you can't- you can't terminate my employment whilst I'm on an approved vacation-"
"But you aren't. Had we chosen not to grant your additional two weeks, you would've been due back at work already. And we chose not to." All of her words were so sharp and blunt, like she hadn't an ounce of emotion behind them. I used to envy that about her - how she didn't seem to doubt a single word that came out of her mouth. Now I resented it.
"B-But I wasn't informed. We didn't evaluate-" I almost begged, but it was useless.
"We did, Isabella. It had nothing to do with your break. We were no longer sustainable as your employer anymore. I apologise if you think that's unfair."
I stared hopelessly ahead of me. I tried to think of some elaborate response to draw her in the opposite direction, but I knew it was no use. As our phone call ended, all I could do was stare ahead - I felt nothing. I felt empty.
For as long as I could remember, everyone I knew - from Grace, to Johnny, to Harry - had told me to leave that job behind me. Everybody had told me that slowly, but surely, it was killing me - and maybe they were right. But I didn't care. Getting this degree to the best of my ability was all I had left. I couldn't half-ass it, I needed to thrive in it. I needed to graduate with first-class honours, in my assignments, in my examinations, and in this placement. This placement was a huge step in getting me there - it gave me an essential leg-up, even with all of its cons. I hated it, and I hated them - but I needed them, and they didn't need me.
It had nothing to do with my break. I had a feeling that wasn't true, but it was no use fighting it. I was a university student in a far inferior position than they were, and they didn't need me. I had fucked it all up. My father had been right - he was right. I'd had it, and I'd thrown it all away. I'd been so stupid. Of course, I'd had to naïvely put myself first; I'd had to take this stupid leap of faith, and go for what I wanted. I'd sacrificed everything I'd worked so hard for.
It wasn't just a matter of getting another job, either - it simply didn't work that way. I'd snagged a job at one of the top firms for undergraduate hires in the city, and even away from that - these jobs were relentlessly competitive, with a torturous application process. There weren't enough jobs at our level to go around. I was sure they could've filled my vacant role a dozen times over by now, with how many people would've been lining up to steal it from me. How could I have been so stupid?
In every happy day I'd had, I'd had this odd sort of imposter syndrome. I'd been waiting for something bad to happen; for it all to come crashing down. I'd felt like this perfect, happy life wasn't mine - and I supposed I was right; it wasn't. I couldn't just be happy. It had to all come crashing down, crumbling at my feet - of course, it did.
I'd avoided the topic of what would happen next ever since I'd found my footing on this tour. I didn't want to think about or contemplate how leaving would be, or how it would feel; what it would mean for mine and Harry's relationship; what going back to work would symbolise. That had been my own fault - my blatant avoidance had made things murkier, and now I had my end result, and I didn't like it one bit.
I had tonight's show, and then the next. Then, I'd be going back to London without a job waiting for me.