[HarryStyles] Pop Meets Hardcore

Four.

I like to think that he’s grumpy because he has to have a fake girlfriend. I want to think that it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm the fake girlfriend. That would suck, if I was the reason he’s pissed off about this. I know I'm not his type; I'm not a lot of guys’ type. Not many guys like the way that I look. But, sometimes I think I look good.

Clearly, he doesn’t.

Really, I shouldn’t care, because nothing we’re about to share is real. Not everyone is as nice as I want them to be. My expectations are too high, for everything, for everyone, and that’s my downfall, because I don’t even know him and already I feel let down.

Maybe that’s why I'm here, because they apparently know how much I do for others, because I can see it in their pile of files all about me. It’s slightly odd, how much they know about me, and I'm not sure if I should be flattered that they chose me out of a bunch of other people or slightly worried because I'm not part of their little Get Harry A Better Reputation Experiment.

Dan says it’s more like a Pop Meets Hardcore Experiment.

Let’s face it, I would never have a boyfriend who never came to one of my shows, and that means he’s eventually going to have to see what I do for a living. It’s totally different than what he does. I stay for hours after the show meeting people. Our concert tickets cost about twenty two dollars. It’s all standing room. I walk around and watch from the crowd whenever I want to. That’s not what he does, and I think that’s why the guys think this is a stupid thing to get involved in.

To be honest, I was, I don’t know, maybe I was excited to meet him, to finally see what the big deal about him is. I get that he’s hot, but that doesn’t account for everything else that people say about him. I wanted to see for myself. Photos can easily be photoshopped.

Okay, that wasn’t it. I just, it sounds like fun. I get to go around and act as if the hottest guy around right now is my boyfriend. I hate to be fake, I really do; but, what girl wouldn’t jump at the opportunity? Every single girl would jump at the opportunity. And maybe, if hell freezes over, we’ll get some good publicity out of this.

“So, we’re going to go with two months. The two of you have been together for two months now. We have two options for how you two met. We’ll let the two of you decide which story you want to go with. I know that girls like the how we met stories.” I could care less about how we met. That’s stupid. But, according to Simon, girls just love those types of stories.

Rolling my eyes, I lean back in the chair, knowing that whatever is about to come out of their little storybooks is going to be lame. Dan doesn’t want to be here, and I'm thinking that at this point I don’t want to be here more than he doesn’t want to be here.

There’s really no reason for him to continue to glare at me. It’s actually becoming pathetic and the more I try to ignore it the more I want to flip out and start screaming at him.

See! I'm never like this. I don’t yell. I don’t really get angry. He’s messing with my sanity!

I think I'm going insane.

“The first story is that you two met at an award show.” The woman has no idea what she’s talking about. She literally just, oh my god.

Shaking my head, I let out a humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t be caught dead at an award show that had nothing to do with my music. That story isn't even an option. Seriously, Brad, I'm starting to regret this.” The freak out was supposed to be internal. I was supposed to simply say it all in my head to let it go. But, I, this is way too much. “Honestly, would you ever see my band walking into some stupid Teen Choice Awards thing? Absolutely not, so your files on me are worthless.”

Brad clears his throat, sending me a glare from the corner of his eye, as he runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, what Braelyn is trying to say, is that we need this to actually be realistic because I would never send them to an award show unless it was for Kerrang, and One Direction wouldn’t be invited to that one.”

Simon nods his head, pointing to the second story that they made, and he hands it to Harry to read, which makes me guess that this one is his doing. Picking it up, Harry groans quietly, and I can’t help but feel even worse about myself. “You’ve been to Africa. We met in Africa.” Wow, good job, you really know how to tell a good story.

What am I doing with my life?

“I do go to Africa. Is that okay with you?” I really don’t mean to sound so biting, but his attitude just irks me. I'm here to help. I'm not here to fight and I'm not here to be degraded by some British asshole. Nothing that I have done justifies the glares that I'm getting from him, and at my remark the guys around him shift awkwardly, sensing the tension that now is thick in the air.

“Oh, you like to help people, yeah? You like to get things out of helping them though, right? So what did you get out of going to Africa?”

“A boyfriend who happens to be an asshole, apparently.”