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Harry knows this is his only chance. If he can talk to Emma, maybe he can convince her that he's 100 per cent ready to go to Paris Fashion Week as an editorial photographer. Emma, the legendary editor-in-chief, has repeatedly let him know that his time has not yet come. On the other hand, she always praised his work and encouraged him to take on challenges. What better challenge for a fashion photographer than that? And today is Emma's birthday. So maybe she'll be in a good mood? Maybe she'll agree to send Harry to Paris? If only he can talk to her... The problem is that Harry has lost his invitation to Emma's birthday party. He remembers they're at one of the posh pubs near Chalk Farm, but will he manage to get there?
Harry nervously brushes a hand through his long hair, which falls across his forehead as he speeds through the rather empty streets. He's in a hurry, as usual, and the halves of his black jacket are flapping in the wind. Fortunately, the birthday party venue is easy to spot from a distance. There's a large crowd of posh guests lined up around the pub, and on a sign outside the entrance someone has inscribed "Emma's party. VIP." Right.
"Good morning, hello. I've lost my invitation. Harry Styles?" Harry shyly approached the girl who stood at the entrance with the guest list in her hand.
"Harry... Harry... I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have that name on the list."
"Are you sure? Please check again, I'm from the editor's office, Emma..."
"Any problem, Carole?" - a strong voice with a slight hoarseness came from behind him. A short man in a light hoodie, baseball cap and blue jeans approached the hostess. The cool stare of his piercingly blue eyes made Harry shiver. He nervously fixed his hair again. Who is this guy? Probably too short for a bouncer.
"The gentleman is not on the list, I can't let him in."
"Are we going to have a problem, love? I think you need to find another place. And are you by any chance too young to be walking around pubs?" - The stranger's tone was calm but slightly mocking as he took a swig from the cigarette placed between his tattooed fingers. Fucking hell.
"What?" Harry felt anger. How dare he? Harry is 21 and yes, he's heard many times that he looks young - it's that bloody long hair - but this is outrages. "Excuse me! I'm of age, I work with Emma..."
"Good, good. No need for nerves, lad. We don't want unpleasant scenes here on dear Emma's birthday, do we?"
Harry growled furiously and turned on his heel, feeling the stranger's scowling gaze on him. He will show him!
With as quick a stride of his long legs Harry strode through the streets again. Barber, excellent. Harry rushed inside along with the cool autumn air. "Buzzcut, please." - He threw at a stunned barber, pointing at his head.
"Are you sure? Such beautiful hair?" - the barber was clearly trying to restrain him, but Harry definitely didn't have time for that kind of fuss. He'd get a bald haircut and go back there to try again. No one will recognize him, and such a haircut will make him look more serious, older. The insolent bouncer will no longer dare to mock him. Who in their right mind would hire someone so short with a delicate stature and slender hands as a bouncer? Who can he beat? A group of kindergarten children? Well, unless he's using those eyes of his like two blue lasers as a weapon... Harry's thoughts drifted in a completely bizarre direction as the barber did his duty, systematically removing another long lock of hair from his head. Tough luck, sighed Harry. It's time for life changes. And this is only the first of them.
Harry found himself on the streets again a moment later, heading back towards the pub. His hand went in a nervous gesture to brush back his hair, but... there was no hair there. Just rough bristles. Harry swallowed his saliva nervously. Maybe this was too impulsive after all? Maybe he should think about it better, damn it. No time for regrets now. His goal is to get to Emma's birthday party and no sexy bouncer is going to stop him. Nor his laser eyes.
This time Harry decided to exude confidence.
"Hi Carole," he greeted the girl at the entrance. "I'm one of Emma's editorial photographers. She promised that my invitation would be waiting here. Can you check if it is?" - He asked, summoning all his charm, dimples in his cheeks included. Before she could answer him anything, however, the distinctive voice with its soft hoarseness reached him again.
"Oi, you, bald one! Nice try, lad, but you're still not on the list."
The bouncer with the piercing blue gaze did not even try to hide his amusement. Harry figured this was his chance.
"I'm willing to do anything to get to Emma's birthday party."
"You are, aren't you?" The smirk he looked at Harry with was hardly discreet.
So was the careful gaze with which he glanced at Harry. Despite the autumn chill, he felt hot.
"Listen."
"Louis."
"Louis. Listen, Louis... I'm Harry. I work with Emma. Actually, she's my boss. You see the thing is, she's about to decide who's going to Paris Fashion Week and this is my chance, I'm really up for it, if I can just talk to her, I'm sure I can convince her. She'll be in a good mood today and..." Harry threw out a torrent of words as he tried to approach the entrance, but the bouncer - Louis - blocked his way. The hand that firmly landed on his chest to stop him had a surprising amount of strength in it. Harry felt his knees soften, as he silently cursed his decision to wear his black dress shirt halfway unbuttoned.
"I understand everything Harry, but you need to understand that I can't let you in. I'm sorry."
Harry sighed with resignation and struggled to control the trembling of his chin. Would his unorganized arse, which had caused him to lose his invitation, to be blamed also for losing the chance to go to Paris? He felt himself on a verge of tears.
"Harry," he raised his head to meet the bouncer's surprisingly warm gaze. Louis was still standing very close, but he had already lowered his hand, making no attempt to physically block him. Harry's will to fight had deserted him anyway.
"Listen, love. Here's what we're going to do. When Carole finishes letting the guests in, I'll ask her to find Emma and find out if she can let you in, OK? Until then, you wait here, alright?"
Harry nodded with all the enthusiasm he could afford at the moment. He didn't risk his words, fearing that he wouldn't control his voice and come off as the kid that Louis clearly thought he was anyway.
"So, Harry," Louis led him aside and took another drag on the cigarette that had magically found its way into his hand. How much does this man smoke? "Did you really think cutting your beautiful curls would get you in?”
Harry felt his cheeks burning. Fucking hell. "I wanted to look more serious... I know it's idiotic... I don't know what I was thinking..." - His tongue tangled too, and the bloody tears stood in his eyes again.
"Harry, Harry, I'm only joking, love!" - Louis' husky voice has a sort of encouraging quality to it. "A bit of an impulsive decision, but I don't think anything will take away from your beauty." Harry raised his head abruptly. Bouncer looked at him softly, with a mixture of amusement and… tenderness?
Harry fanned his eyelashes rapidly. Is... is Louis flirting with him? Shit. Then it's even worse. If Harry is absolutely hopeless at anything it's flirting. Especially with the owners of beautiful blue eyes, tattooed hands and husky voices.
"Hey, Harry, relax. I'm sorry if my teasing made you uncomfortable. I'll stop now. Buzzcut suits you just fine. You look serious, mate," Louis is really nice. Harry feels the tension leave him.
"No, you're right. I've made a clown of myself today. And it probably won't do any good because Emma will send someone else to Fashion Week... Maybe I'd better get going." - Harry took a half-step and felt a strong hand land on his chest again, emanating warmth and effectively stopping him.
"Stay. Stay please. I'm sure we'll find a solution, Harry!" - Louis' gaze is as strong and unstoppable as his hand. "You're awfully hot-headed, lad."
Hot-headed. Funny. Louis is funny. If only. Harry feels his pulse and breathing quicken, and the hand still placed on his chest burns his skin. Fucking hell. Louis is very, very attractive and Harry definitely shouldn't be thinking about the last time he kissed someone because those aren't appropriate thoughts at the moment. Thoughts of kissing a bouncer. Kissing Louis. Thoughts of kissing and…stuff. All the indications are, however, that such thoughts are not just born in Harry's buzzed head. Louis closes the space between them with a swift movement and his other hand wanders to Harry’s neck, blue eyes peering from under long-long lashes. Harry really doesn't bear any blame for his decisions being impulsive. Kissing Louis is definitely the only sensible move at the moment.
And the kiss is only sweet for a moment, quickly becoming impatient. Harry knows that this is absolutely not the place or time to be passionately kissing strangers – in a manner that deviates from propriety – right outside the pub where his beloved boss is having a birthday party. Emma.
"I heard there was some commotion at the entrance and I went out to check, but really don't let me interrupt you," Emma's voice is quite harsh in tone.
"Harry, I see you've already met Louis. Our new art-director."
Fucking hell.
“Emma, my darling birthday girl!" Louis is clearly not one to lose his wit. Harry, on the other hand, barely dares to look at his imposing boss, whose distinctive red hair blazes against the elegant dark green suit she has chosen for the occasion. Chic as ever.
“Don't try to charm me here, Louis. Harry, let me have a word.” So that means it's all over. Harry swallows with difficulty and slowly comes to terms with the vision of losing his beloved job. And only moments ago he was dreaming of Paris and building a long lasting career as a photographer!
"Emma... I'm very, very sorry for my behavior, I understand if you don't want to work with me anymore... I thought he was a bouncer... But after all, he's too short for a bouncer" - Harry, as usual in a stressful situation, is unable to utter a full sentence that makes any sense.
"What?!" - Emma snorted with laughter.
"What?!" - Louis couldn't hide his disgruntlement.
Harry feels himself blush from head to toe, and tears of horror and embarrassment well up in his eyes. He's made an idiot of himself again. In front of his boss and his new art-director, who also happens to be incredibly hot and nice and… yes — Harry is a hopeless idiot. Ditto.
"Harry, calm down, darling. Of course I want to work with you!" - Emma, as usual, sees and understands everything. What did Harry do to deserve such a perfect boss?
"I'm not too short for a bouncer at all!", Louis sneered.
"Louis, I'll talk to you later. Perhaps we should renegotiate your contract and assign to your role the duties of a bouncer as well. Surely, too, you should become more familiar with our company policy on kissing subordinates. I assure you that we have a moral code that takes such situations into account." Ouch. Harry is glad that at least this time he is not on the receiving end of Emma's pointed glare. Although, when he looks more closely a full amused smile is on his boss's lips.
"Emma, I know it's your birthday... I really didn't want to ruin the party for you and I know all is probably lost now, but it's all because I'm so anxious to go to Paris Fashion Week and really, I'm ready, I know I can take good pictures..."
"Harry. Please take two deep breaths. You didn't ruin anything. I didn't mean to scare you or upset you. Yes, I've thought about it before, that it's probably time to give you some more responsible work. If you want to go to Paris Fashion Week - I don't see why not... Well maybe just the fact that Louis will be covering it for us too. But from what I've seen, you two get along well." - Emma allows herself a small chuckle.
"Emma... it's not like that... I... I didn't know who he was, I would never kiss him... I mean no, I would kiss him, Louis is very handsome and those eyes, those lashes, those hands and the stubble..." Fucking hell. Harry really should think before he says anything. Emma's laughter is deep and hearty.
"There's not many people in the world who wouldn't want to kiss Louis, believe me. The thing is, he's usually more reserved, so feel special, Harry! Now, please, let's forget about this minor misunderstanding. Enjoy the party!"
With these words, Emma drifted off into a crowd full of people eager to engage her in conversation or raise a glass of champagne in her honor. After all, it's her evening and Harry should be grateful to his lucky star that he managed to have a word with her at all. And on top of that, he will be going to Fashion Week in Paris! As the official editorial photographer! Harry shook his head in disbelief - it was probably his lucky day after all.
"Harry... Look, it came out all wrong…" - Louis' slightly hoarse voice jolts Harry out of his reverie. The handsome man stands nearby, rubbing his tattoo-covered hand over his chin in a gesture of slight embarrassment. “I’m sorry”.
"Yes... no... I understand, listen... I'm the one who has to apologize to you, I shouldn't have kissed you.... I just didn't know you were my superior..."
"Oh, so you're in the habit of kissing only bouncers?" - amusement and slight taunt flashed in the blue eyes.
"No... I... no, I don't kiss strangers at all!"
"So I'm special?" Louis has somehow inexplicably found himself much closer to Harry and the gaze of his clear blue eyes burns Harry's delicate skin again. That's why his cheeks are once again covered in blush. Fucking hell.
"You are."
Harry can't believe he's showed such boldness, but apparently, that's what needed to be said, because Louis' whole face lit up in an instant in the most beautiful smile Harry had ever seen. These crinkles by his eyes will be the death of him for sure. But he's willing to risk it, as long as Louis smiles more often.
And maybe he should have more faith in the future after all...