[HarryStyles] Pop Meets Hardcore

Nine.

I know a lot about Harry Styles. More than his fans do. And that’s only because they sent me information about him, just like they sent him information about me. He’s really against this: lying to his fans, being in a relationship with me. The file of simple information about me is probably in a dumpster somewhere. And to be honest, I don’t even know what they know about me. They probably know about my brother, so I guess I'm glad that Harry threw the file out. It still hurts that he didn’t care enough. I'm a human being, too.

He’s in jail. He killed his ex-girlfriend.

“So, Simon emailed me the list of questions that Katie is asking us.” Harry leans back against his plush, black leather couch, biting down on his lower lip as he awkwardly nods his head. I don’t really watch Katie and I don’t think that I actually agreed to be on the show. No one asked me. When he mentioned it, I had to pretend to know what he was talking about, because I had no idea. He never went public like this with his other flings.

But, I guess that this is what I'm for. I'm not supposed to be a fling. I'm supposed to be someone who sticks around for a while. I'm the one he’s supposed to be serious about. It just sucks that for either of us, this isn't real. None of this is real. What people see, even the people who set up their stages and the people I consider friends in other bands, is real to them, but to us this is all an act.

I'm a hopeless romantic. It’s something that I'm not ashamed of. It’s not something that I don’t have a problem admitting. But this gets in the way of this whole, this whole, I don’t even know, this whole plan.

Granted, who the hell wouldn’t want to be with Harry Styles? I just, if I'm going to be with him, I want all of this to be real. I want him to like me. I want him to know me before we begin dating. I want to date. I want to get butterflies when he holds my hand for the first time; well, that happened, but it didn’t happen in the right order. None of this is happening in the right order. It’s a business deal.

My relationship is a business deal. That’s fantastic, so romantic.

“What do we have to know about each other?” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I run a hand through my hair, becoming hot. Anxiety makes me hot, I get hot, my whole body gets hot, and I'm pretty sure that my face is slightly pink right now, and it’s not from a blush. I don’t want him to think that it’s from a blush.

From what I have seen when I was at the gym, Katie asks serious questions. Not all of the questions we’re going to be asked are about our favorite things to eat and to do together. “Um, one of them is what your favorite thing about me is and then what is my favorite thing about you.” Clearing his throat, he rolls his eyes. I didn’t realize that I'm that repulsive that there isn't a single thing about me that he could say.

Shrugging my shoulders, I open my mouth to give him an answer, but I know that I can’t say that his eyes are my favorite part about him or his voice. I mean, I can say his voice; I would just have to elaborate and fabricate all of that. “Your voice.” Looking at me, he knits his eyebrows together in complete confusion and shock. “I can say your voice is my favorite thing about you. I can say that hearing your voice makes me happy and it still gives me the chills.”

If there’s one thing that I'm good at, it’s being in relationships and being a girlfriend. I haven’t really had experience, but I know that I want to be the best girlfriend I can be. I don’t want to be overbearing and I don’t want to be too distant. It’s all about knowing what to say and when. It’s about loving but not being annoying about it. I can do this. I know that I can.

Hell, I can have fun with this. I’ll be the best girlfriend he has ever had.

But, this isn't a fairytale. I know that this isn't going to end with the two of us falling in love. Things like that only happen in movies. And I gave up wishing that my life would have an ending like the ones in movies.

“I’ll say your hands.” This shocks me; I have no idea why he says this. It makes no sense. Holding my hands out in front of me, I look down at them, unknowingly drawing my eyebrows together. Laughing, he reaches out and laces his fingers with mine, and I try so hard to ignore the tingling sensation. “I'm going to say your hands because they fit in mine perfectly. I’ll say that our hands always find each other.”

My breath gets caught in the back of my throat. I don’t know what to say. I hate this. I don’t know who the real Harry is. Half of the time he hates me and the other half he talks like this. I know that this isn't real, this relationship that the two of us have, but the way he’s acting, I just don’t get it. I'm not something that can be toyed with. It’s not right. I don’t want that.

“Rapid fire,” I respond, trying to change the subject, trying to ignore the warm feelings in the pit of my stomach. Harry drops my hand and nods his head.

Glancing at his phone, his eyes scanning the email for questions, he stops his thumb from scrolling. “Okay, favorite place?”

“I like being at concert venues, it doesn’t matter which one.”

“I like being at home, where it’s quiet and not crazy. Oh, god, what were you thinking about before you kissed me for the first time?”

“Next question. Give me time to make it up.”

Shaking his head, Harry sighs softly. “You know, we might as well get that over with.”

Tilting my head to the side, I bite down on my lower lip. “Get what over with?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I swallow the sudden nervous lump in my throat.

“The kiss. We should just kiss and get it over with.”

Harry Styles, please, please, just stop sending me mixed signals, my hopeless romantic heart cannot take it.