Being Harry Styles’ assistant might’ve been tough, but it was just as rewarding. An advantage: being able to go to all the red-carpet events. Being able to walk into a high-end store and not getting looks as if you didn’t belong there because everyone knew you worked for Harry. Everyone respected you much more, which wasn’t easy in most of the industries. Sure, you might’ve been living off four hours of sleep a night and a gallon of coffee every day to keep up with his hectic life, and you pretty much barely had any time to sit down and relax, but still! The job was great and your pay cheque was even better. (You weren’t solely doing it for the money because you could honestly say you loved Harry to death, but the fantasy of being able to move out of your dinky little apartment one day becoming a reality was definitely a motivation.)
Being Harry Styles’ assistant might’ve been tough, but being his assistant while having a huge crush on him was even tougher. As dramatic as it sounded, it absolutely devastated you when he was seen skipping around town with some tall, blonde, leggy Victoria’s Secret model. (He claimed he didn’t have a type, but he definitely had a type.) Having to send the girl off with a care basket after her frisky night spent with Harry just felt like he was rubbing salt deeper into your wound. It wasn’t fair, that was all. You had been working with him since the Take Me Home tour, and for him to not notice you at all in the five-ish years that you had been together wasn’t a great feeling. Now that you were working for him and seeing him 24/7, he still didn’t notice you and didn’t see you in that way. Going out on a date and having Harry see you in a romantic light was merely an impossible dream! One time, he told you that you were a wonderful friend and he was glad that you were ‘like, one of the lads, y’know? I like tha’ about you’.
So, imagine your surprise when Harry asked you out to dinner. It turns out you had been completely oblivious this whole time to Harry’s feelings because according to literally everyone else on the planet it was pretty clear he was completely smitten with you. You were just the only one who hadn’t realized it.
“Wha… What?” You felt like your heart had stopped beating for a proper minute when the question slipped out from his mouth in the middle of your guys’ conversation. You were talking about how you were planning to binge watch documentaries on National Geographic for the night because you didn’t have anything better to do, and Harry just casually… asked you out?
“Dinner. I’d like t’ take you out for dinner, Y/N.” Harry smiled softly, tilting his head slightly as he tried to pick apart what exactly your reaction meant. You couldn’t help but look around the room, feeling as though there were hidden cameras somewhere. “I’m not pranking you, you silly goose.”
“But… why?” It was clear you were still in a state of shock and unable to form a proper sentence because did Harry seriously just ask me out on a date?
“Because I like you,” Harry replied simply, glancing over at his phone when it buzzed. He reached over and locked it, focusing all his attention on you. “I think you’re sweet, funny, talented, and awfully cute. I figured I had to snatch you up before someone else did.” Oh. Oh.
“Oh.” You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly. Unsurprisingly, it was very hard trying to contain your screams of excitement at the fact that Harry had been interested in you this entire time. You had to play it cool, though. Now that you knew Harry liked you, you had to act like you had your emotions under control, which wasn’t the case at all. I’m cool. I’m as cool as a cucumber.
“I’ll pick you up at eight tonight, yeah?” Remember, Y/N. Stay cool.
“Eight… is a great time to pick me up.” Your fingers seemed to automatically form into guns when you made the unintentional rhyme, Harry’s lips twitching as he tried to contain a laugh. “But, like, I’m cool with whatever time. I’m super chill like that.” You shrugged casually, getting up from your seat and nearly knocking the chair over. Jesus Christ.
“Eight it is.” Harry beamed, watching as you collected your things and zipped up your backpack. (You were actually running late for an outfit pickup but you couldn’t care less at this point.) “Do you like French?”
“I like anything! Hon hon baguette and omelette du fromage and all that.” Oh my god. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, rolling his eyes playfully. Your awkwardness was too darn endearing and was definitely one of the reasons why he liked you so much.
“Alright. Au revoir, mon amour.” Oh, god. What did he say? What’s a mon amour?? Since when did Harry speak French? Your brain was now in a mild panic mode, and you blurted out the first relatively French-sounding words you could remember from your high school classes.
“…Ç'est la vie, señor.”
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