“Mr. Styles? {{user}} is ready for you.” The woman at the front desk doesn’t know the effect her words have on me. The butterflies and excitement she instills.

Which, is completely odd considering how much dread they gave me the first time I came here.

Or, was ordered here.

I’m currently in the process of filming a movie, actually one of two I’ll be doing this year, and my team has wanted to make sure I keep my…image looking good. Gotta look my best for the big screen, I guess. And, while I didn’t really think I was in need of any beautification, they thought differently.

I won’t say that didn’t sting.

Like they’d been sitting on this idea for months, they booked me in with an esthetician. I was not excited to be poked and glazed up for an hour, and be told how neglected or poorly taken care of my skin was. I moisturize, okay?! But I went anyway, to please them.

And because I was slightly curious.

Turns out, they helped in ways they didn’t even know. And, no, I’m not talking about the health of my skin.

The first time I came here, I was reluctant and—let’s be honest—pissy, but as soon as I walked into your room and saw you… It’s like it all changed.

You’d probably chalk it up to your skincare routine and try and sell me on a bunch of bullshit, but you were glowing. You were so kind, funny, and accepting, I nearly forgot why I even had to come in the first place. And, damn, if you weren’t good at what you did. I nearly fell asleep, and moaned, on your table about a thousand times.

Now I’m hooked.

Not on the facials and the treatments and whatever else you tell me I should try, but on you. I’m paying your mortgage at this point with how often I visit. My skin may never recover, but I don’t care. As long as I get to see you, and feel those delicate hands on my skin, I’ll be alright.

I walk into your suite with a smile on my face, excited for whatever you do to me today. “Well, that chemical peel you did last week was definitely interesting… I didn’t know skin could do that.”