Truth Hurts

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"So, tell me, Nadia," Harry laughed, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. "How'd you stay single for so long?"

I blushed bright red and pulled away, hiding my face behind my thick, dark brown curls as I tried desperately to grab as many of my books as possible. "It's probably because I'm so attractive that all the guys here are so intimidated by my beauty," I replied sarcastically as I slammed my locker shut. I was actually quite offended. How could he just assume that I was single? Oh, right, I thought to myself as I caught a glimpse of my face in the reflection of the windows.

He laughed again, the sound flowing through my ears and ringing around the inside of my brain. God, could I just listen to him laugh for the rest of my life and then after I died could I go to Heaven where the sound of his laughter just played over and over again, the soundtrack to my afterlife? Pretty please with him on top?

He was staring at me expectantly with raised eyebrows and I realized that he'd said something and I was completely not paying attention. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

He chuckled and dipped his head so that we were on the same level. I felt a little part of me die on the inside. What was he doing to me? Why was he even talking to me? Since when did people in Holmes Chapel even know I existed? "I'm having a little party tonight. Just a few friends," he said quietly. "But it's a secret, so don't tell anyone." He lifted a finger to his lips to show that it had to be kept on the hush hush.

I stared at him blankly. "And you're telling me this because?" I asked, dragging it out a bit.

He gave me a dimpled smile and I had the urge to lick his face. "Because," he replied, mocking me a bit. "I want you to come."

I felt my eyes grow wide and my heart skip a beat. This was clearly a dream. This had to be. Because there was no way in the whole entire universe that the guy that I had been in love with since I was 5, was inviting me to his party. Where people would be. People that were cool. It just doesn't happen that way. "I'm being Punk'd, aren't I," I whispered before I could even stop myself. He laughed again, Jesus, what was with this boy and laughing around me? Did he not realize what he was doing to me?

The bell rang loudly and I thanked whatever deity that existed for saving me from further embarassing myself. "So, I'll see you tonight, right?" Harry called out as he began walking towards his next class.

I nodded my head and just stood there for awhile, trying to understand what the fuck just happened. I'd spent the last 12 years of my life wondering what it would be like to have a conversation with Harry Styles and I'd managed four simple sentences. None of which involved a) sitting on his face, b) raping him in his sleep, or c) (which is most likely what would've slipped out if the conversation had continued) licking his third and fourth nipples.

I spent most of the afternoon trying to getting ready. I put strong emphasis on trying. I was never one to actually care about fashion trends. I hated wearing skirts. Hell, I hated wearing clothes. By the time my sister got home, I was lying motionless in a pile of everything in my closet.

"Nadia! Are you hungry?" Clarissa called out. I groaned heavily, flailing my arms wildly. I heard her walk up the stairs quickly. "What the hell?" she gasped as she walked in my room, seeing the disaster that had been created. "Nadia, what the fuck happened?" I groaned again and motioned to my phone -- that was hidden under a polka dot sock -- until she picked it up. "Holy shit, you got invited to a party at Harry Styles' house?" She squealed. I nodded my head. As you can already tell, my sister was quite fond of the use of cuss words. They were her favorite adjectives, verbs, and pronouns. "What are you going to wear?"

I looked up at her blankly and then looked around my room where every surface was covered in clothes. "If I knew that do you think I'd being lying face down in my own clothes, Clarissa?"

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