Mysterious [Harry Styles]

02

Jason Styles' POV //

I am woken up by my phone ringing. I groan in disbelief. Who in the fuck calls someone at this hour in the morning? I quickly answer, not even paying attention to who is calling.

"What?" I grumble, laying on my stomach on my bed. I place my cheek on the pillow and hold my phone to my exposed ear.

"Jason you fucking idiot. How could you do this!?" I hear Harry yell into the phone. I groan and shake my head.

"What the hell are you talking about, Harry? And why are you calling me already? Do you know how early it is!?" I complain, rolling my eyes. What the hell could he be pissed about this time? I have not talked to him in over a month!

I hear him sigh loudly over the phone. "Jason it is 11:30 in the morning. It is not early! How could you borrow so much money from a dude who has family that works for a fucking publishing company, just to not pay him back?" He questions angrily. I groan and slowly sit up in bed, leaning my bare back against the cold wall. Who is he talking about? I have borrowed a lot of money from a lot of different people. "I will take the silence as you not knowing who I'm talking about. Andrew Thomas, Jason. You have borrowed THOUSANDS from Andrew Thomas." He continues.

"Okay and what is your issue with this, Harry?" I reply, being slightly confused. Harry has never cared about the debt that I have had. He stopped lending me money a few years ago. And how does he even know about Drew?

"Jason, let me spell it out for you. You have owed Andrew thousands of dollars and have not paid him back. Your dumbass told him that we were twin brothers instead of telling him the usual story. His family owns a publishing company that publishes things about celebrities. He contacted MY management and told them that if you did not pay him back within the next two weeks, an article will be released about my "bum twin brother who does drugs and never pays people back." He says quickly, his frustration causing his voice to raise. I pinch the top of my nose and sigh.

Oh yes, the typical usual story I am supposed to tell when people question why I look identical to Harry. Instead of simply being able to say that I am his twin brother, I am supposed to say that I have heard it all of the time since I was 16 that we look alike but that it is a sheer coincidence. I am supposed to tell people that I do not have any sort of relation to Harry. It is all because he is embarrassed of me which is bullshit. However, for a free place to live, I keep my mouth shut. He pays my rent and for my car. Sometimes I accidentally slip up and tell people that we are twin brothers, and I must have accidentally told the wrong person.

Harry continues, "He will not even accept my money, Jason. He wants it directly from you, but you do not fucking have money. So, I have a plan and you are going to cooperate." He sternly says. Is he talking to me like a child? "Andrew's little sister Amelia attends college at the University of London. She is a sophomore. You are going to go there and act as if you are taking classes there. You're going to get to know her and make friends with her. You have two weeks to be able to convince her to have her brother not write that article." He explains. My body fills with frustration. I cannot believe that he is serious.

"Harry, you expect me to woo a fucking 12-year-old and convince her to get her brother to not post an article about us? How the hell do you even know this much about her?" I groan, still punching the bridge of my nose. I hear him shuffle papers in the background.

"First, she is 19 years old, not 12. Secondly, I can find out anything that I need to find out. Jason if you do not do this and that article gets published, I will no longer pay any of your bills and you can live on the streets." He states. Before I can even say a word, he continues, "I can see that she logs onto the school computers in the library most Friday mornings. Actually, she is on right now. Go to the library and talk to her. I will send you a photo of her." He quickly hangs up the call.