Personal Assistant ➵ H.S.

22

Once you returned to work after the trip, the sweltering hot weather had cooled slightly. It was as if the heat had been building and building and now the weekend was over, the intensity of that heat had diminished slightly.

Much to your relief, you and Harry had both seemingly decided to act like your conversation on the beach had never happened, focusing back on the fact that you were still his assistant, even if it hadn't felt like that at all recently. Ultimately, you had both said some heavy words and now you felt like it was a bit of a waiting game. You had told Harry to show you, to prove to you that he was true about what he said, because understandably, you had some doubts about opening your heart back up to him. When you dabbled with the limelight and mingled with celebrities, there was always a price you'd have to pay, a risk you'd have to take in pursuing certain relationships - something that'd you'd now learnt the hard way - so it made sense that you were still a bit dubious.

You had to admit though, ever since that conversation, you'd had this increasingly annoying feeling of nosiness towards Harry's journal. After he had conceded to writing 'shitty love songs' about you, the want to just grab it off his desk where it sat in its usual place when he wasn't looking grew day by day.

But, as if he sensed exactly how you were feeling, the only times you'd seen it recently was gripped in his hand or not at all, hidden away.

Besides that, you had been feeling okay. Another date with Damon had happened and you were very impressed by how much he had changed. The cocky tendencies and lack of care towards you that he had displayed towards the end of your relationship had seemed to have disappeared.

However, you'd made it very clear to him that you would just see how things went day by day, not making any promises for your future together. You'd even turned your head when he'd tried to kiss you goodnight, because Harry's beautifully anguished expression from the beach in the back of your head had stopped you. It seemed that Harry played a big part in your aloofness towards Damon, as usually you were one to wear your heart on your sleeve and your feelings clear on your face.

Harry, on the other hand, was well aware that you'd gone out with Damon again. But he was fine with that, because he knew what he had up his sleeve would blow some crappy homemade dinner out the park.

He'd taken your request to show you how he felt very seriously. So far, it was mostly just little things; buying you a coffee every Thursday or taking you for a nice lunch somewhere, replacing the drooping potted plant on your desk with fresh peonies before you arrived for the day. But he always saw that shy little smile that would light up your face when you saw what he'd brought you or done, and that was all he needed to know it was working.

It was a particularly slow day, and you sat spinning on your desk chair, unsure why the waters of Harry's job seemed so calm. Narrowing your eyes slightly, you thought that could only mean one thing - he was planning something big soon, a new client or another album to work on with an artist.

You decided that the best thing to do to cure your boredom would be to interrogate and annoy him. So rising from your chair, stretching you arms above your head, you approached his door.

Something stopped you though. You leant your ear towards the wooden doors to make sure you were hearing what you thought you were hearing; Harry singing and strumming his guitar.

After a few moments of only hearing muffled sounds through the thick wood, your curiosity getting the better of you, you opened the door as quietly as possible. Only your head was poking through the small opening you'd created but it was enough.

Your eyes rested on Harry, seated on your favourite orange sofa, guitar sat on his knees, legs bent up at a funny angle because of how long they were. He was looking out towards the windows, completely wrapped up in the song and as the beautiful lyrics washed over you, you couldn't help but wonder who his muse was.