It's All Down The Drain (Harry Styles)

Chapter 1

Hey! This is my new story! :) Everything is in Ainslie's POV unless it's specified! :)

Give me love!

xo Ar

I leaned over the toilet, emptying the contents of my stomach into the bowl. I stood up and wiped my mouth and cursed myself quietly. I felt better, but I felt so much shame.

So, I assume that there are some introductions to be done. I’m Ainslie and I’m 18. I’m originally from Jackson, a small town in Nevada but I’m now living in London with a few other girls. Now, I know you’ll all roll your eyes at my next statement, especially if you refer back to the first three sentences, but I model and I’ve been lucky enough to be decent enough to be able to make it in London.

I’m the complete opposite of what my agencies expect me and see me to be. I’m supposed to be a vivacious and outgoing girl but in reality, I’m not. I’m shy, introverted and quiet. In our flat, all of the girls are always rowdy and loud, and I’m either in my room or working.

Yes, I do have an issue with food. It’s embarrassing. It’s what I’m mostly ashamed of. It’s been something that I’ve been fighting and dealing since I was 13. My parents were thinking about sending me into treatment, but instead, I turned 18 and moved to London.

And let’s be honest, in this industry, nobody cared if you had an eating disorder.

I brushed my teeth slowly, erasing the disgusting taste from my mouth and stepped on the scale again. I placed my feet on it slowly, one by one. I wasn’t happy with the number that beeped back at me, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been.

I looked at the time on my iPhone sitting on the vanity and sighed. I had to be downtown in an hour for the music video today.

What I did enjoy about my job was that I never had to worry about what I was going to wear. A pair of jeans and a tank top always sufficed until I got there, and then wardrobe took over. The same goes for my hair and my makeup.

I slipped my black skinnies on, along with a white tank top and my basic black heels.

I walked out of the bathroom and back into my bedroom, grabbing my purse and leaving.

I was met outside by a cab paid for by my agency to whisk me away.

It was noisy out on the street. People were chatting excitedly, probably because for the first time in forever, it wasn’t raining.

The driver stayed quiet, thankfully. When they talked and tried to keep up conversations, I got anxious.

Buildings rushed by outside and I thought about the day ahead of me. I was excited. I had never done a music video before and this one was for a band that was just off of The X Factor. I had listened to the song once, although my agent recommended that I listened to it more, basically to suck up to more people, but I didn’t have the time, frankly.

The cab stopped outside of a studio and I handed the driver some currency. “Thank you, sir.” I said. It was the only thing that I had actually said to him the entire ride.

I walked into the huge studio, my heels clicking on the floor beneath me.

“Name?” The receptionist asked.

“Ainslie Parsons.” I muttered without thinking, taking in the office around me. Which consisted of modern seating, a huge wooden secretary desk.

“Third floor.” She smiled.

I followed the hallway down to the elevators or “lifts” as they called them here in London.

I walked in, the doors closing behind me and rode up in silence.