[HarryStyles] Pop Meets Hardcore

Three.

Part of me doesn’t understand why everyone is here with me. I mean, it isn't everyone, but my mother is here and my manager is here. To top it off, Dan weaseled his way into the meeting. It sounds weird, calling this a meeting, but I guess that’s exactly what it is. I'm meeting my boyfriend. My fake boyfriend. Yeah, I'm meeting him for the first time. But, we’ve been together for about two months now; I think that’s what the story is going to be.

Fake. That’s what all of this is. And I remember the first relationship I thought I was in, and it all pretended to be fake. A joke. That’s what this is. It’s a joke that Harry Styles is with the Queen of Hardcore, with holes in her ears and two different colors in her hair. But, to top it all off, it’s fake. And I hate being fake. I hate everything about fake things. They’re not real. They’re not genuine.

I like to think that I'm genuine. I don’t really lie to anyone. I think I’ve lied to my mom a few times about what the other bands were doing while we were out on tour, but that was a lie that made everything easier for everyone. I don’t even think that’s a lie. I just didn’t tell her that they were all drinking and partying. We usually keep to ourselves anyway when we’re on tour, simply because we’re not legal. Not that it stops the guys from drinking, but they’re not really in a band to party, we’re all just in it for the music.

Which makes me feel like this entire band that I'm now going to be involved with is fake. I mean, who the hell cares so much more about the image of a band than what the band actually does, like what they write and how they help people. This is just, it’s so different from what I'm used to. There are times when I jump at the opportunity for adventure, like when we got to tour in Australia, but this just doesn’t seem right. There are so many things that can go wrong.

If my fans find out that this is all fake, I can’t, oh my god. They're going to hate me. Things are going to go so wrong. This wasn’t a good idea. They don’t even, okay some of them do because he has tattoos and pretty eyes and really nice hair… But, like, I just, what was I thinking? I'm not even the definition of a rockstar. I don’t party. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t hook up with people. That’s what, this is all so wrong.

I don’t want to be painted that way. That’s what these magazines are going to paint me as. There is not one guy who can say that he’s made out with me, let alone held my hand. But, let’s be honest, I'm in a fake relationship, so I assume they’re entitled to write fake things about me.

“I want this to go well. So what is going to happen is we’re going to go into this as if it’s a business deal.” A business deal, really Brad? My relationship, while not real, is going to be handled like a business deal. This is not even fun anymore. It wasn’t even fun when I agreed to this.

Okay, maybe it was a little fun.

I'm a girl. Who likes guys.

And Harry Styles is one attractive guy.

&&/

I think they want me with the wrong guy. At least Zayn knows who I am. Plus, Harry hasn’t uttered a single word in my direction. It’s actually rude. I'm helping him out. Does he honestly think that this is for my benefit? There is such a thing as bad publicity.

“He seems like a keeper,” Dan whispers, biting down on his lower lip to stop the smirk from spreading across his entire face. Rolling my eyes, I punch his leg under the table, watching as his eyes grow wide in pain. I've grown up around guys, I don’t know why they continue to provoke me, I know how to hit someone hard enough to hurt them. “Listen, I still don’t understand why you said yes to this. Brad apparently does, because he thinks this will be good for us. Do you think that?”

Hesitantly, I shake my head, finally letting him know that I'm regretting this as much as he’s hating this. My mother, however, thinks that the guys are wonderful, all because they’re charming and talk with accents. I mean, I would think that too, if they were actually talking to me. The only one who is acknowledging my presence is Zayn. And he has a real girlfriend.

The more I think about this, the more stupid I feel. I know better than to live in lies, because when the lies become a web, something goes wrong and someone becomes the fly that gets eaten.

“So, Braelyn, we have to discuss the backstory.” Simon talks with such a professional tone that I now get why Brad said to go into it as if it’s a business deal. To Harry’s management, this is a business deal. While to us, a band that’s signed to a label that isn't as rich as theirs, this is just an adventure that may or may not end well for us.

Nodding my head, I lean back in the chair, not really understanding why they would invite us out to a dinner when we’re simply eating in a conference room with takeout from some Italian place. “Okay, and what is the backstory?”

Simon looks to his right, facing a woman in a pantsuit, an ugly pantsuit, it’s a gray color, but a dull gray one, and I can tell that she’s the one in charge of the story, because she’s probably the one who reads all the romance novels when she’s home at night. Glancing at Harry, noticing that he’s glaring at me, I roll my eyes, almost appalled that he would glare at me. I'm helping him. I'm really not getting much out of this because no one is going to buy our albums and our ratings on websites will probably go so far down they’ll be close to one star when their fans start to rate our albums.

He has really pretty eyes.

Dan thinks that I'm too nice. That I heard that he was in need of help and I just had to spring into action and be there to help him. And that’s probably true. There’s a part of me that wants to help fix everyone’s problems, and this is no different. He keeps getting slammed with bad press about going from girl to girl. The only problem with this is, we have to make it look like he hasn’t been cheating on me for the past two months.

I'm going to be the girl who was cheated on. Great. Fantastic. Can this get any better?

Oh, yeah, it can, because my fake boyfriend can’t stop glaring at me.