Alive [Lirry]

08.

"Hey Grimmy!" Harry greeted his good friend Nick Grimshaw as he slipped into his convertible, the boys exchanging the typical manly handshake. They chatted a bit about the party on the way, and Harry was obviously excited.

"Uh, Harry?" Nick said tentatively, casting Harry a sideways glance, who hummed.

"She's gonna be there. Hey man I'm sorry! I didn't know you were gonna be there!" Nick added hastily as Harry shot him a murderous glare.

"And it's a high profile party mate, of course I had to invite the bitch," Nick said testily, and Harry smiled at Nick's correct use of her name.

The her being Harry's ex of course.

The curly haired model slumped in the leather seat, his excitement about the party deflating.

•••

As they entered Nick's property, the party was already in full swing. As soon as Harry stepped in, he slowly mingled with the crowd, greeting his various friends in the model business. He chatted with a few, and he was honestly having fun. Harry hadn't attended a party in ages because of his hectic schedule lately, and it felt good. And also, because he was here without a bodyguard. The freedom felt good.

Nick suddenly appeared beside Harry, elbowing him sharply, making Harry slightly spill his drink. "Snake at 3 o' clock," he hissed, and Harry straightened, gulping his drink.

"I'm leaving," Harry murmured, pushing past Nick who stopped him. "How long are you gonna keep avoiding the bitch like a coward, huh? Man up and sass her already!" Nick pep talked, shoving Harry back in the direction of the mini bar set up near the large pool. He leaned against it, trying not to turn his head and glare at Hilary, who of course had noticed Harry.

They always avoided each other, but to the media, they were simply two 'friends' who didn't have time to meet up with each other.

Hilary Chase and Harry had dated about two years ago. Of course not many relationships in the famous world are that serious and this one was the same, and so they both had went into it for the sake of publicity and their careers.

But then five months into the fake relationship, Hilary had confessed that she had started falling for Harry, while Harry was struggling to figure out a way to tell Hilary that she was starting to grow on him. Harry thought that maybe Hilary was different.

But of course the bitch had no feelings for Harry and only wanted access to Harry's luxury pad and sexy body, and all the things lovestruck Harry mindlessly bought and gave her. Naive, young Harry was lovesick, believing that Hilary had too felt the same for him. And he had even ignored Jackie's warnings of making this so called relationship with the gold digger non-professional.

And when Hilary had been bored and had maxed all of oblivious Harry's credit cards, she had publicly dumped him on twitter with a humiliating tweet.

And to say Harry was still not over his foolishness and humiliation in being played and used was an understatement. She had very easily broken Harry's heart, but it was also his own fault. He had played right into her hands.

And from then on, Harry had been ridiculously accused of being a womaniser by some magazine (and made Hilary seem like a saint somehow) when he was the one getting dumped, but Harry stuck with the label, forming an image around it. So be it.

He detested the bitch now, and he clenched his fists as Hilary sauntered over to him clad in a skimpy neon bikini and flip flops, a coy smile playing on her cherry red lips.

Flicking her sleek straight highlighted caramel hair behind her shoulder, she leaned against the bar, swishing her drink.

"Harry Styles. Long time no talk? How are you doing?" Hilary asked, sickly sweet, her ocean blue eyes wide and innocent. Harry tensed, and barely managed a civil smile her way.