°•

"Harry Styles, software developer," the tall man pulled out a little piece of paper and handed it to her, "my card. Has my number on it, if you wanted it."

"Was wondering what these symbols were," she said uninterestedly, setting the card down and getting up.

"No need, doll," he stopped her, "I'm a family friend."

"Oh how lucky you are," Crissle muttered, continuing to knock on Zayn's door. He muttered something before Harry opened the door anyway, a large smile taking over his face.

"Zaynie!" he cheered, sitting atop his desk and crossing his legs, "you didn't tell me you got a new assistant," he said, peering at Crissle, who stood at the door, waiting to be dismissed, "she's a looker, eh? Nice change of scenery."

Excuse you?

"Is it a surprise I got a new assistant?" Zayn asked, glancing at her then back to Harry.

"No, but it's a surprise you didn't pick another blonde bimbo who always has her titties out. Anyway," Harry continued, walking over to the alcohol and pouring himself a glass of scotch, "what's your name new assistant?"

"Cr--"

"Erica," Zayn deadpanned, closing his laptop and picking up the papers she had given him moments ago.

"I'm afraid I wasn't asking you, Zayn," Harry sipped on his scotch and sat back on the desk. Crissle was starting to like him more as time passed. His green eyes met hers and he smiled again. "What's your real name?"

So he knew about this stupid name thing too?

"Crissle," she answered, internally happy someone cared to know.

"I like it," he said, "nice change from all the assistants whose names so happened to be Erica. Zayn? Thoughts?"

Zayn glared, a hint of amusement behind his hazel eyes. "I think I should get a new friend."

"Don't be like that, babe--"

"Can I leave?" she asked abruptly, really not wanting to listen to whatever they were talking about.

"No," Zayn said, leaning back in his chair and looking at her.

Crissle huffed, shifting from one foot to the other before making her way to the door, "I'm gonna go, anyway. I have a lot of work to do."

"Did you not hear me?" Zayn said sharply, "I said you couldn't leave."

"And I said I had a lot of work to do--"

"Sit down."

"Uh, no."

"Erica--"

"Crissle," Harry put in.

"Cris--" Zayn glared at his friend, obviously annoyed Harry even talked during this whole ordeal, "you know what? I'll deal with you later."

"Thank goodness," she closed the door behind her and cheerily walked to her desk.

Honestly, the stack of papers the one and only Zayn Malik dropped on her desk did keep her busy for two and a half hours. From business deals, to contracts, to business trips, she did it all. She had to organize and prioritize, a hidden talent of hers.

Speaking of meetings, Zayn had one in five minutes and he was still with Harry.

Crissle knocked on the door and their laughter died down before she opened it. "Sir, you have a meeting in five minutes."

"Shit. Who is it?" he asked her.

"The head of your clothing line."

"Um.." he looked around quickly, fumbling through the papers she gave him today. She sighed and walked over the the desk, getting out the itinerary and slamming it back down on the desk.

"Four minutes," Crissle told him before leaving again.

°•

"Erica," Zayn interrupted her talk with one of the other workers on this floor. She sighed, walking into his office and closing the door behind her. She pushed her weight against it and watched him retreat to his desk.

"Sir?" Crissle said, her chin high. She refused to take any shit from him today.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Why didn't you tell me I had a meeting today?"

"I did?" She told him slowly, standing up straight.

"Yeah, with three minutes to spare!" he yelled and she was pretty sure everyone on this floor could hear, "do you know how embarrassing it was to arrive late while everyone else was there waiting?"

"Uh, yeah. I was with you. I'm your assistant, so," he really couldn't put the blame on her.

"You needed to tell me earlier," he ordered, his stare hard on her as she approached the desk, "that's your fucking job, and you need to do it."

"Your job is to listen, also, Zayn. You called me deaf last week? I fucking told you what you were to do today and I proceeded to give you the itinerary as I spoke--"

"You--"

"Shut up--"

"That's no way to talk to your boss!"

"That's no way to treat your assistant," Crissle shot back, "and while I was telling you what you should do, you ignored me and continued on with watching shit on Netflix. Who's at fault here, hm?"

"Still you," he seethed, "you're supposed to remind me--"

"And you're supposed to remember," she interrupted. He stood, his jaw clenched as he gripped the collar of Crissle's shirt and twisted. She coughed out a breath and he leaned closer.

"I don't pay you to order me around, Ms. Sinclair," he barked, "now, are you going to do as I say, or not? There are so many other people that would love to have your job. I could give them a ring if I wanted. Do you want that?"

She shook her head, the feeling around her neck was unpleasant and she struggled to breathe.

"Do you," he yelled, "hear me?"

She coughed and he let go.

Crissle's body fell the the ground and she tried to regain her breathing. Her lungs hurt and so did her throat, feeling like somebody lit a match to it. She was pretty sure she hit her head on the wall also, feeling a knot forming at the crown of her head.

"Shit," Zayn tried to help Crissle up but she pushed him away.

"Fuck you, Zayn!" she screeched, the tears running down her face. She pushed shot glasses and anything else valuable off his desk, watching it clatter and break when making contact with the floor. "Fuck you, fuck you! I don't need this, I don't need any of this shit," Crissle leaned against the wall, as far away from him as possible.

His eyes softened at her words and he had apology written all over his face, but he didn't come any closer.

"Crissle--"

"Shut up," she snapped, straightening out her now wrinkled shirt and hair, "now, if it's alright with you, not that I care, but I'm going home for the day."

"Cr--"

"Good day," she told him, opening the door, "you have a meeting in three hours. Don't be fucking late."

°•

I'M SO SORRY THIS WAS TRASH

bye