PART 1.. fanficparker
Fake it, till you make it— it was just a small phrase with an unknown source, no available citations, no shreds of evidence available of how effective it was, yet so overrated. Maybe that was the prime reason why you accepted it as a mantra. A mantra that would solve a specific problem in your life, a problem that goes by the name of Harrison Osterfield.
Harrison Osterfield or Haz (as most people called him) was simply your colleague. How difficult was it to get away with him? Maybe not so easy. Because that was exactly the problem with colleagues.
If your boyfriend was an arsehole, you can break-up with him. If your best friend or literally any friend was an arsehole, you can get rid of them too. If your roommate was an arsehole, you can search for a new place to live in. But relatives and colleagues? How are you supposed to get rid of them? Also, relatives aren't always near you, but colleagues?? And then colleagues like Harrison??? You can't pretend they don't exist, especially when one of them is always wandering around you. A condescending pain in the ass and someone you had a crush on.
Your fellow crew-member and basically one of the only two people you could address as 'friends' on this weird set of Utopian fantasy mini TV series had warned you to not get along with Harrison on the very first day when you joined the project but would you listen? A charming young man with the best possible flirtatious techniques and those messy sandy blonde curls and blue eyes as pale as those had approached you, not to forget with that grin... How would you resist anyway? He introduced you to everyone, boasted your confidence, got you coffee regularly, even dropped you home if you had extra work... Literally a magic boy.
But... All of it was fake.
Fake.
Fake.
You were falling for him and he was faking it from the very beginning.
He had invited you to a party in a pub and that's when everything was revealed. You were simply just a stupid prank bait for him.
The way he initiated everything, the way you both ended up in the corner, just below the staircase, away from those sweaty bodies that had engulfed the whole room. Your back was pressed against the wall while his hands rested on both sides of your head as he leaned in, his warm breath was fanning over your lips while he was staring at you through his lashes. Your heart was thumping in your chest as you closed your eyes and waited for his lips to press against yours, only that it never happened. Instead, a whole bucket full of cheap beer was dumped over your head.
You gasped and opened your eyes, seeing him back up, completely dry while his friends were standing on top of the staircase with a now empty bucket laughing like a maniac and right then Harrison Osterfield started laughing too. He laughed hysterically while you watched him with your hairs dripping from alcohol, clothes spoiled, fists clenched and vision already blurred with tears.
Strangers stared at you and giggled with their partners, his friends said some stuff probably some insult, but you couldn't hear anything as your mind was full of embarrassment and heart well... broken. Harrison then walked closer to you, you wanted to move away but your legs were frozen as ice. He slowly pushed those wet curls behind your ears and used his finger to wipe off some alcohol that was dripping from your chin. He leaned in again, whispering close to your ear—
"Sorry, darling but I don't do feelings. And anyways you are not my type of girl."
That's when you pushed away his chest and tried to run, only to trip over the beer and fall on the floor. He stretched his hand in your direction but you rejected it.
"Ooh, sass." One of his friends booed. You looked at Harrison one last time with tears bursting out of your eyes. He wasn't laughing anymore and that made everything worse.
Sympathy? Haha, really?
No way!
You ran out of the door and drove home in your little drunk state. You don't remember what happened after that, maybe you slept but the one thing you knew clearly was that you fell for the wrong guy and he definitely was not your type either. But you also knew that it would take time to get over him and accept every sweet moment with him was fake and part of that bigger prank. His dates, him dropping you home on busy days, him bringing you coffee, him telling you that you looked lovely, him telling how great your costume designs were, him bringing some new recipe he tried, him taking you roller skating and what not.
Truly a magic boy who knew nothing but cheap tricks.
***
Right now, you were getting ready to go home. Being a costume designer on set was a good start, although you joined in late and had nothing much to do rather than working on old designs that the previous designer left, yet it was your first big project.
You had to clear away everything because your assistant was on leave— your other friend Simon. You were already getting late because of the extra work you had to do on his behalf and were just about to step outside the door of your little room when you collided with Harrison.
The lenses of your spectacles pressed against your cheeks getting them covered in your moisturizer that covered your face, making them blurry. You didn't look up, rather got to the side, mumbling a 'sorry', rubbing the lenses from the edge of your top.
"I guess it's time for getting another eye checkup, specky."
That was his new thing— making fun of trivial things. Idiot, trying too hard.
"I said sorry and my vision is perfectly fine!" You said pretending to be super confident.
"That's why you wear them?" Harrison chuckled, pointing at your spectacles. You wore them back looking directly at his face.
"For your kind information Mister Harrison Osterfield, more than thirty percent of humanity wears glasses. Let alone so many people on this set, even our director. You can't just make fun of me, especially when I only need them at the time of drawing or sewing. It's even a fashion symbol!" You stated like a diplomat, but it felt as if your words fell on deaf ears. He didn't care to hear you, rather started scrolling through his phone. You sighed at the lack of response.
"Okay now get out of the door, I need to go home."
"George wanted to see you though. That's why I came here." He said without even looking away from the screen, getting inside the room from the side.
So, what was that argument for? You sighed yet again, walking to George's office, the director on set.
"Harrison said you called for me." You got inside the office, seeing George already packing up.
"Yeah. He was complaining about some fittings."
Complaining... Yeah, what else could he do? Pfft.
George continued, "He said he has some problems with the new costume so if you can fix it, the shoot is tomorrow."
"Yeah, I will... If-there-are-any."
"Huh?" He narrowed his eyes, unable to clearly hear your fast-uttered words.
"I mean... Yeah sure. Give me the costumes, I will fix them at home." You smiled politely.
"Umm... That's the problem Y/n. The costume has to be used early tomorrow for rehearsals, and your work timings start a bit late, so... Can you stay a bit here and fix it?" He pressed his lips in a thin line.
"Hmm... Everyone is leaving—"
"Harrison will stay till it's fixed. He can try them too."
The day can't surely get any worse.
"Fine."
What else could you even reply?
"Okay then. The costumes are there. And see you tomorrow. Maya is still here and if you need any help, surely call me. Good night." He pointed at the costume kept in the corner of the room and got out to leave.
Haha... Good night. Good, really?
You glanced at the costume that seemed alright and walked back to the room, instantly greeted by Harrison sitting on your desk still busy on his phone.
"Now what's wrong with this?!" You slammed the fabric on the table getting his attention, annoyance evident in your voice.
"A lot," He shrugged, shoving the phone in his pocket and getting up, picking up the costume.
"The left shoulder. I can't even move my arm!"
"Really? This minor fitting?" You scrunched up your nose in disbelief.
"And I can't wear this costume because of this 'minor fitting'!"
Seriously Y/n, out of everyone you chose to have a crush on him?
You concluded that it was stupid to waste time talking back to him, he was definitely an expert in pointless arguments. You snatched the costume away from his hand and sat on your chair.
"Don't you have to take my measurements?" He dragged the opposite chair, sitting in front of you.
"The other shoulder is perfectly fit? Right?" You said picking up a needle.
You were busy opening the stitches and comparing the sleeves with each other when you noticed Harrison's eyes trailing at your working figure, specifically your face and then down your neck. You looked through your lashes in conformation. Your eyes met his and a smirk formed on his lips with his thumb swiping over his bottom lip as he raised a brow.
The veins in your neck cruised and your skin felt like burning. You shifted uncomfortably on your seat, looking down, adjusting your glasses for no reason, trying to put all your focus in the sewing process. But from the corner of your eyes, you could easily see the size of his smirk doubling noticing the little reaction from you.
Fuck! No, he knows what he is doing and you know very well who he is. You can't let it happen again...
It was after all, barely a month...
You looked to the side and the tip of the needle pricked your finger, making you gasp.
"You okay?" Harrison moved closer to you, studying your finger. Luckily, your finger didn't bleed and luckily your work was finished, so you don't have to be with him anymore.
You passed on the costume to him, ignoring his concerned questions about your finger.
Haha, like he cared.
You got your bag and were ready to move out when he stopped you.
"Shouldn't I try this first?" He asked, lifting the costume.
"I have done my work. That's on you." Your reply was monotonous.
"Don't you want to see me shirtless, Y/n?" You could see the grin on his face as he started to lift his t-shirt.
You rolled your eyes, completely ignoring him and walked out.
Maybe you were too weak to hate someone powerfully enough but that's when you took the help of that mantra.
If he can pretend his fake-love for you, why can't you pretend your fake-hate for him? And then just wait till this fake hatred turns real...
(TBC) COMMENTS WILL BE APPRECIATED AND THEY GIVE ME the INSPIRATION TO WRITE :)
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Words count: ~1.9k words
Published on: 13 July'19