Him and I {crowley}

Chapter 2

Harper's POV

I WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, still getting used to being in London. The apartment that I was in was small and only had a few rooms, but it didn't matter because I knew I wouldn't spend much time there. 

I pulled together an outfit from my draws and within no time I was ready to leave.

I had decided that today I would go to the British Authors Writing Association, and apply to be one of their writers and poets. I was actually more nervous than I thought I would be, apparently all upcoming writers apply for a contract but actually receiving one is rare. But  this was finally my chance; my chance to do something big, something life-changing.

I was dressed fairly smartly (which was a change) and had some make up on. I put everything I needed into my handbag and left my apartment.

-/-

The streets of London were very busy, it was clearly rush-hour. People in suits pushed past me in every direction. I wanted to stop and look around the city but I couldn't. Finally I reached the big office building that the association was in. It had glass windows all the way up; the very essence of modern architecture.

I walked closer to the building, the automatic doors slid open at my arrival. I stepped into the lobby and was amazed. They had a real fountain right in the middle of the room which stood behind a large front desk. I continued walking but before I got to the desk I saw a sign:

Applicants go to floor 23

I forced a smile at the receptionist and quickly grabbed a coffee from a coffee machine near by, making my way to the elevators after.

The lift cranked slowly up the floor and after what seemed like an eternity, I finally reached floor 23. With a somewhat fake air of confidence, I stepped out and into the office. 

-/-

I finally found the room where all the other applicants were where. It was very tense. Every single one of us wanted to get a contract here. If we did then we would be able to preform in actual theatres and venues, what with a huge financial association backing us. 

Each one of us was interviewed for about ten minutes in which we could be asked anything. When it was my time to go I walked into the sectioned off part of the office, hoping for the best. 

——————

About a week later I got a call back from the company, they wanted me on their team, but not as a poet, as an author.  I smiled through the news but it wasn't what I wanted. I had always been accused of being too hard to please but I couldn't help but feel disappointed. My whole personality was centred around my clumsy but hard hitting poetry and it was the thing that I wanted to do with my life. However, I wasn't exactly in a position to refuse and offer, so with a slight dejection, I made my way to the office. 

"Ok, let's get down to business." The manager, Mr Cooper said sternly.

I nodded.

"The new book that you will have to write is about a murder mystery set in a convent. You will have this written before the end of the next two months, or you will loose your contract."

I knew I wouldn't like him. He was the sort of man who no woman should like. He was obstructive and rude, like he knew that what he was asking me to do wasn't what I wanted, and that's why he asked for it. I often think about how different my life would be if I was a man;  would I  be taken more seriously as a poet? Would I have made a change? I guess there is no way to know, but that didn't stop me from speculating. 

"Yes Sir, I will have that book done before the deadline." I said, trying to sound professional and positive. 

"Good, you are allowed to do or go anywhere for inspiration but you will have to pay the money yourself."

"Ok, thank you for the opportunity." I said, holding back a grimace. 

"No problem." Although this was meant to be a nice comment, it sounded so cold coming out of his mouth.

He left without another word.

I sighed, knowing that if I endured this first project I might work my way up to getting what I wanted, to recite. Of course, I was grateful for the chance to work at a proper literature association, but when you have a dream you want it to be perfect, any slight crack in the glass can later cause a gaping hole. 

I thought back to what he said: 'you can go anywhere for inspiration.' Maybe I should take a trip somewhere, it was a murder mystery in a convent, well, I should probably go to one of those.