[HarryStyles] Pop Meets Hardcore

Seven.

Sliding his hand onto my lower back, one of his fingers hooking around the loop of my jeans, he pushes me forward, gently – more gently than I thought he could ever be considering his rough personality. Biting down on my lower lip, I attempt to stop myself from commenting on his fingers that are just hanging above my ass, or the fact that he’s holding onto my jeans in a way that I'm not comfortable with. “Keep your head down. You’ll get used to it eventually. There are a lot of fans out there. We’re not stopping to talk to anyone, though. There are too many people. Liam will go in front of you’ll follow him.”

All of this information is thrown at me all at once, and I don’t really know how to process it all or try to understand why he’s suddenly so nice to me. I know that his little comment wasn’t an empty threat, but I thought that he only meant that when people who didn’t know about our little arrangement he would act like the perfect boyfriend. “I've been in crowds before. I'm not, I have fans.” Knitting my eyebrows together, I glance up at him, he’s so tall, attractive really, and I realize that he isn't tall enough that kissing wouldn’t be uncomfortable for either of us.

So, maybe I don’t get mobbed every time I go outside, but I have enough fans to know about trying to get through a crowd. They stand by our bus, how they find it I'm not really sure, but they just camp out there after the show, waiting for us to finish our showers and the final interviews of the night, just waiting. As soon as they see us, they surround us, walking with us, encircling us as we try to get to our bus, which usually ends in us giving up and talking to every person standing in our way. It hurts, his comment, a little bit, knowing that he thinks he’s better than me in every way possible, it just, I don’t know how he wants me to react to what he said.

Combing my fingers through my hair, I inhale slowly through my nose, realizing how intimidating the crowd actually is, when I let down my guard and anger at his comment, I realize that he was right to warn me, because this is insane, I'm pretty sure it’s a hazard to public safety. Anxiety rushes through me, and Harry senses it, suddenly realizing that I'm a person, a human being. “I didn’t mean to scare you about what will happen out there.”

“You did, mate. You meant to scare her. Can you at least try to be nice to her? There’s no reason not to be nice. She’s here to help.” Zayn to my rescue. I'm starting to like him.  He seems like a good guy. “Her fans are going to hate her and you know that. I told you about her. Or did you not listen?” I didn’t want the two of them to fight, for there to be tension between the band members, the guys who are like brothers to each other, at least not because of me.

Shaking my head, I open my mouth to say something, anything, to try and stop this whole budding argument in front of me, I raise an eyebrow as I watch Harry glare at Zayn. “You honestly think that she gives a shit if her fans hate her? She’s in the spotlight now. That’s what she wants, and that’s what she’s getting out of this. All she wants is the fame that comes with pretending to be with me.” His words are full of anger and disgust, like he’s talking about something so despicable and evil, like he knows everything in the world and his anger is justified.

Rolling my eyes, I bring my thumb to my lips, sliding the knuckle of it into my mouth and chewing on it, a habit that I can’t seem to shake when I'm about to flip out. Dropping my hand to my side, pursing my lips, I tilt my head to the side. “You're scum. I don’t want your fame. I don’t want your fans. I don’t want anything from you. I'm doing this because,” stopping myself, I shake my head, not okay with telling him the reason I'm doing this, knowing that it’s just as bad as doing it for the publicity, and he wouldn’t understand, it would make things worse.

“Let’s just get going.” Liam mutters, punching Niall in the arm, cocking his head to the side, towards the doors, trying to get someone else to going him in hopes of everyone else following. I don’t know what his deal is, why he thinks that he’s in charge, but I guess that’s been his role from the beginning, and I'm not the one to tell him he doesn’t control me, because I really want to get going, too. The sooner we leave, the sooner I'm away from Harry. This isn't really as fun and exciting as I thought it would be.

Without another word, without another glance at each other, the six of us walk out, bodyguards in tow. Harry’s other hand grabs a hold of mine, and the position in which we’re walking is extremely uncomfortable; he’s to the right of me, his left hand still on my lower back and his right hand now lacing his fingers through my right hand. It’s almost like when a mother walks behind her baby to help her, or him, begin to walk.

It’s almost surreal, how loud it is once the doors open and we’re outside, I can’t hear myself think; I've always hated that saying, because people said it and it was never loud enough for that to be true, but right now I'm positive I cannot hear myself think. People everywhere are screaming to us, not even at us, like they want us to have a long conversation with them as we’re walking to the car. I don’t know how the guys to this every single time they walk outside, this is insane, this isn't how a person should have to live their life, famous or not.

Mindlessly gripping Harry’s hand tighter, I let out a sigh of relief once he squeezes my hand, and I really don’t understand this hot and cold thing he has going on. He hates me, but then he tolerates me. It just makes no sense and I'm not in the mood to waste all my energy on figuring it out.

“Holy shit!” I hear Harry scream, only because his mouth is so close to my ear as he pushes me through the mob, and I turn my head to the side to look at him, only to see someone’s fist approaching my face.