Don't Let Me Go

After returning home from my night in London, I fell back into my regular routine. I hadn’t told anyone about my night with Harry, with the exception of Emma. She freaked out like I was expecting her too, but seemed mostly happy that I had, as she so delicately put it, “got some”.

Yeah, Emma got around a little bit and didn’t understand why I wouldn’t sleep with any guy I considered cute or sweet. But hey, that was Emma and I loved her. I returned to work, finished the article, and returned it to Marshall’s assistant. The next week I got a call from her that Marshall wanted to meet with me.

I immediately panicked, wondering if it had gotten around that I had slept with Harry. I’m pretty sure that would qualify as inappropriate, considering I was supposed to be interviewing him.

I nervously walked into his office the next morning. His assistant sat me down, saying Mr. Burman was on a phone call, but would see me soon. I waited for about ten minutes before the assistant motioned that he was ready to see me.

“Hi,” I said timidly.

“Miss Clarke, nice to see you.” He said formally, not breaking his eye contact with his computer screen.

“You too, sir.” I replied.

“I’ll make this brief. I just wanted to thank you for the last minute trip to London. I appreciate that kind of commitment to the magazine. I read your article too; wasn’t bad for a receptionist. It’ll be in the next edition. ”

“Thank you,” I said, but it sounded more like a question coming out of my mouth.

“Did you enjoy Mr. Styles?”

“Um, yeah, his music was great.” I stuttered, feeling my face turning red. He couldn’t know right? This wasn’t some kind of test, was it?

“Very good,” he nodded, returning his eye contact to his computer. “We’ll let you know if another opportunity comes up for you to write.”

“That would be great,” I nodded.

“Nice to talk to you, Sophia.” He replied, and I took that as my cue to leave. I said goodbye to his assistant, and I noticed her name was Sarah from the name tag on her desk. As soon as I left the office doors, I did a little happy dance of joy. Marshall Burman had just told me he liked my writing. Marshall Burman knew my name!

“Well,” I heard a voice from behind me. “Someone’s a little too excited for a Thursday morning.”

“Just had a meeting with Marshall,” I nodded.

“He finally fire you?” he laughed.

“Shut up, Cole.” I laughed, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. Cole worked in the finance department at the magazine. I knew him casually, for he always stopped at my desk to tell me little anecdotes or jokes. He was incredibly handsome and was a graduate of Harvard. Working finance at the magazine wasn’t exactly his dream job, but I’m pretty sure he earned way too much money to turn down.

“Did he ask you out?” he smirked.

I rolled my eyes at him, “Actually, he was just complimenting me on my Harry Styles article. They’re going to run it.”

“That’s awesome!” he said, actually genuine. “How was Styles?”

“He was pretty good,” I shrugged, face turning red again.

“Oh not you too,” he shook his head.

“What?”

“All the girls in my department talk about how attractive he is. Like all day long. I think there’s even a poster of him in our coffee room.”

“I guess I didn’t really notice.” I shrugged. “But I guess I should head back to reception. And you should go back to finace.”

“Boring, rule follower!” he called after me as I turned to walk towards my desk.

“At least I’ll still have a job!” I replied, not bothering to turn around. The next few weeks seemed to pass by as usual. I hadn’t heard anything from Harry; instead, I was just focusing on my job. Marshall hadn’t asked to write anymore articles. I mainly got coffee, typed up reports, and transferred his phone calls.

It was a Friday afternoon and I was just about to leave when I heard my phone ringing. It was Emma.

“Hello?” I greeted her.

“What are you doing tonight?” she responded, in lieu of hello.

“Nothing as of now,” I replied.

“Well, you know that guy,” she paused.

“Which guy, Em?” I rolled my eyes, as I made my way out of my building.

“Brooks,” she answered, as if I should know this.

“Ok, yes, Brooks. What about him?”

“He asked me out tonight.”

“That’s fun.”

“But,” she stressed. “He has a friend that he already said he’d hang out with tonight. So I mentioned that you’re single and turns out his friend is too-“

“Emma!” I all but shouted. “What the hell? You’re not setting me up with some random guy.”

“He’s friends with Brooks!”

“I don’t need your help finding a date, Emma.”

“I know you don’t, Sophia, but please just do it for me. And I know you haven’t gotten any since your rendez-vous with-“

“Emma, ok fine.” I groaned, not wanting to think about my “rendez-vous”.

“Ahhh thank you thank you!”

“You owe me,” I grumbled, as I walked into the subway.

“I do. I totally do. So I was wondering if I could borrow those green earrings you have. They’d look amazing with my…” I zoned out on the rest of the conversation. I hurried home and changed in order to meet Emma and Brooks and his friend at a nearby bar. I changed into jeans and a top, applying minimal makeup before heading out. When I arrived at the bar at half past 8, it was already packed. This was highly unusual; this bar was not usually such a hot spot. I spotted Emma and a guy sitting towards the back. I made my way over.

“Hi,” I greeted them.

“Look who finally showed up,” replied Emma.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find you. It’s so crowded here.”
“There’s some popstar here. That’s why all the ladies are dressed to the nines.”

“Really?” I said, perking up a bit. “Who?”

“Some guy from England. I think his name was Harry?” shrugged Brooks, taking a sip of his beer.

“WHAT?” screeched Emma and I at the same time. A few of the bar goers turned around and looked at us.

“I’ve-I’ve got to go,” I stood up, grabbing my bag. I turned to leave before bumping into somebody.

“Hi you must be Sophia, I’m Dean.” Greeted a cute looking guy. This must have been my ‘set up’ for the night.

“I’m really, really sorry, but I just remembered I have somewhere else to be.” I rambled, before quickly disappearing. As I was about to walk out the door, I slammed into someone, dropping my bag onto the floor. I bent down, apologizing.

“Wait-“ he said, sticking his arm out. Touching my shoulder. I almost passed out.

“I’ve got to go,” I maneuvered myself out of his grip. With that, I walked out the front door.