Slightly Askew

Chapter 2

I checked my reflection in the small mirror in my sun visor, checking that there was no food in my teeth, and popped an Icebreaker in my mouth.

Making a good first impression was my only goal.

I knew that in order to get Harry to like me, I had to be charming, not that I knew how to do that. I was uncoordinated and clumsy. Traits my mother had passed down to me.

My shoes clicked on the pavement as I walked towards the front door. Mr. Ambler had been clear in the packet that I was to dress and act as casually as possible, so as to not cause suspicion.

So, under his very specific instructions, I dressed in black skinny jeans, red Converse, a loose fitted tank top and a blazer. Casual yet work appropriate.

The building was hidden and very difficult to find, which was most likely done strategically to keep out unwarranted visitors. I'd heard unruly stories about the fans of Harry Styles, the “teen heart throb.”

A man in a sophisticated blazer guarded the door, asking me for some sort of proof as to who I was, so I held up the ID with my information.

Autumn Brinley. Vocal assistant and lyrical artist.

Why the hell they didn't just write “song writer” I would never know. It seemed that all big corporations found it more professional to overcomplicate things.

He granted me access to the building, instructing me to head on up to the top floor.

The elevator was empty, luckily, so I just scrambled in and pushed the button with the number 13 on it, which I assumed to be the top floor because it was the highest number on the panel.

The elevator played some soft, almost inaudible, elevator music that somehow loosened up the bundle of nerves in my stomach.

When the doors opened, I saw a sign on the wall opposite the elevator. It contained a list of all the rooms and departments on that particular floor, although I wasn't sure which to report to.

I sighed and ran my fingers through the front of my hair, pushing it back off my forehead. The recording room seemed like the place I should go, but I still wasn't sure.

Why couldn't there be a preppy receptionist waiting for me at the front of the elevator?

I turned to head towards the recording room, but collided with a hard chest and bounced back. My eyes roamed up the length of the strangers firm torso, meeting a pair of oceanic blue irises.

“Sorry miss,” the man apologized, taking a step back to give me some space. “I didn't see you there.”

I smiled and shrugged. “It's fine. I was just trying to figure out where to go, it's my first day here.”

“Oh,” He smiled, shaking a shaggy lock of brown hair out of his eyes. “Welcome to the team. I'm Louis.”

I shook his hand. “Autumn.”

He let his hand drop to his side after shaking mine, and then sidestepped so he was standing next to me. “What do you do?”

“I'm a journ-” I started, but quickly caught myself. “I... write songs?”

Louis chuckled at my stuttering mess of an sentence, holding his arm out for me. I linked it through his and he began to walk in the opposite direction of where I had been headed.

“You're in the recording room,” he said and I mentally high fived myself for being right. “Which sucks because you're stuck with the asshole all day.”