Niall's pov

All this bullshît is so confusing and pointless to me. Harry and I are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves - and reputations, for that matter. In fact, I don't even think it's our reputations that management is worried about, but rather, their own.

Interrupting my thoughts, my cellphone began to ring. The caller ID flashed 'Taylor' making me groan before hesitantly picking up.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Oh hey Niall, so uh, I'm gonna get right to the point here so brace yourself," she started quickly, her breathing rhythms abnormally fast paced.

I nodded slowly to myself before grasping the fact that she couldn't see me, "Uh ya, ya ok," I responded, feeling flustered myself.

There was a long pause at the other end of the line followed by ragged breathing, and I tentatively listened to the shuffling around that seemed to be apparent through the receiver.

"Emma and I were told that we had to move past just visiting with you guys," she explained, her voice dilating to a mere whisper - peaking my curiosity more than I thought possible. What is that supposed to mean?

"What do you mean?" I asked, voicing my exact thoughts though with an aggressive tone.

She paused for another long moment, "Our boss wants us to move in with you guys..."

I stood frozen for a second not knowing how to respond. Did I mishear her?

"What, why? That woman is driving me nuts," I responded with a loud sigh of exasperation.

"Oh trust me, we aren't exactly happy about this either... but we might as well just do it, fix your reputations and be done with it all," she responded, her voice cracking with what seemed like hurt.

I considered her point and screwed my eyes shut with dread. Though she did make a fair argument that the best decision would most probably be to go with the flow and get everything done with as soon as possible, the nudge that told me to fight back was harder to ignore. After all, what was it exactly about our reputations that we had to fix?

I had pondered that for quite some time and over and over I came up with the same old response: I'm simply being charged for living like an average person; for striving to have fun rather than riches; for enjoying my time spent with loved ones and old high school friends rather than models and billionaires; for being me rather than who they've moulded me to be.

They could chip and chip at the barricade I had created around myself as a result of stubbornness, but never would I allow them to convince me that what I was doing was wrong. Or better yet, socially unacceptable.

However, their decisions were inevitable for as long as they had control over our careers. Loathing the future of my "aided improvement" I rubbed my chin before sighing.

Taylor moving in with me was far less than ideal, but I knew, deep down, that she wasn't half as bad as the rest of the people working with her. Besides, she had made it clear that she wasn't overjoyed or excited either. In fact, she seemed quite exasperated herself.

"Alright Starbucks loving chick, when are you supposed to move in?"

**2 months later**

Emma's pov

"Harry, be careful!" I yelled as he almost hit his head on the way into his house.

He stepped back cautiously and glanced up at the doorway with furrowed eyebrows.

"I can look after myself." He mumbled.

I sighed and nodded, "Right, sorry. I just-"

He stopped mid step and looked at me with a wavering glare.

"You wanna act nice all of the sudden?" He taunted with a chuckle that lacked any genuine hysteria.

"Stop going out of your way. Holding your breath isn't going to get you anywhere, with me especially." He seethed, before proceeding into the home.

I flailed my loose shirt around and aired it out as I leaned against my car. The more things he said, the more ironic things got.

Hard to be nice? You have no idea, pal.

I wiped some sweat from my forehead and trudged on towards my trunk to load another box into the house. The sun was shining and it was scorching hot weather. I felt like I could melt being outside for so long.

Harry went back to the car to unload more boxes and as he reached up to get some, his shirt lifted up a bit. I couldn't help but look. Any girl who denied that Harry Styles had a nice body was lying.

"Excuse me, Emma, please stop drooling. It's making me uncomfortable," I heard a familiar voice scowl from behind me. I turned around to face Taylor and blushed profusely, my eyes flickering towards Harry cautiously.

From my peripheral vision I noticed his burning stare drawn to me as his eyebrow was quirked with accusation, a smirk etching its way onto his features. Attractive little shit.

"That's rather scandalous of you, Emma, don't you think?" He commented, his voice low.

I shook my head and changed the subject, "What are you even doing here, Taylor? Shouldn't you be with Niall? Fixing his reputation and all?"

She shrugged and sat on the step of the porch, her shoulders sagging.

"Well, we were just together at his house, but he seemed like he wanted some time alone," she frowned, looking upset.

"Hey, don't let it get to you. I'm sure he's just a little taken aback with how quickly this is all going, you shouldn't blame yourself," I suggested.

"Yeah, at least you know when to give your charity case room to breath," Harry scoffed as he passed us on his way into the house.

I groaned and threw my head back a little with agony. This boy was exhausting.

I huffed, "Believe me, Taylor, you've got it pretty good over there," I mumbled under my breath as she tentatively pat my back.

"Yeah..." she trailed off, her voice heavy.

"I can't imagine how they feel though. Sure it's frustrating for us at times, but don't you think that if we were put in their shoes, we would be just as confused and angry as they are?" She continued, sympathy lacing through her voice.

I nodded in agreement and leaned into her lightly, Harry's soulful eyes insisting on being my most prioritized thought in that moment.

It seemed like every time my eyes lingered on his, he openly poured out his soul to me without hesitation, leaving all his thoughts and ambitions on the table for me to take.

That being said, he seemed to have created a simple yet effective box around himself as well, letting only a handful of people see passed the celebrity version of himself. Vulnerable, yet persistent. A combination I still wasn't sure how to handle.

After loading the rest of the boxes into the house, Harry, Taylor and I found ourselves sitting on a sofa with a firm silence between us- budging only at the mere cough or huff.

How interesting...